Neon Hearts Part 21A. Last chapter of 1995! Marvel copyright to their characters 
good indefinitely, though....

This chapter is being shipped in two parts because I'm afraid it may be too long 
for some servers. How I do run on sometimes.... :)


PART 21A--GRAND LAKE


Thanks to the bright spring sun, the interior of their rented 4x4 was blessedly 
warm. "I have SO much packed snow in my pants legs," Cassie laughed, plucking 
the cloth aside with one hand and slapping the tented fabric with the other, 
which indeed caused a small avalanche to cascade out. "You?"

"Me too," Hank admitted merrily as he copied her actions. It all seemed far too 
funny; he wondered if this euphoria meant he ought not to be driving. He'd 
forgotten the professor's advice about Cassie and excitement again. "I don't 
mind driving barefoot for a while, but you should put on some dry socks and your 
other shoes."

Cassie scrambled half-over the back of the seat to rummage through their gear, 
creating yet another spectacular view for Hank's enjoyment. "Give me your 
shoes," she said, as she bounced back into the more customary sitting position. 
"I'll wipe them down and we can put them right under the heater on my side. 
They'll be dry, or at least warm, by the time we get to Grand Lake."

The drive down the far side of the pass was equally scenic, but uneventful. 
Hank's generalized bliss did not disperse with the reduction in altitude; he 
dismissed his theory about lack of oxygenation in favor of endorphin activity 
when the thought meandered across his mind, then quickly shunted the whole 
subject back to his subconscious where it belonged. Cassie was far more 
interesting to listen to.

They soon found themselves making the turn off the highway that would take them 
into the old resort town. "Oh, look, the riding stable is still there!" Cassie 
exclaimed. With an unmistakably mischievous look, she added, "Do you want to go 
riding, Hank?"

"As sure as I am that it is a delightful pastime," he responded, arching his 
neck to give her a wry look over his glasses, "I rather think there might be 
some difficulty in trying to locate an animal capable of carrying my not 
inconsiderable weight." She tried to look innocent, and failed. "I had in mind 
more sedate tourist-like pursuits."

"Snowmobiling?" she teased, and didn't seem at all dismayed by his pretense at 
exasperation.

"Shopping--and lunch. After all this driving and dashing through the snow and 
such, I'd as soon EAT a horse as ride it. Metaphorically speaking, or course."

"Of course," she replied, lips twitching as she pretended to a gravity as 
feigned as his own.

One pass up and down the main thoroughfare that ran parallel to the banks of the 
huge mountain reservoir from which the town took its name made it obvious that 
both options were strongly encouraged here. "One cannot in good conscience 
return home from a vacation without bringing souvenirs for those who stayed 
behind," Hank pointed out as he locked up their vehicle. "And it's probably wise 
to start the process early." He took Cassie's hand as they headed down the 
quaint wooden sidewalk. "Some of my friends are...difficult to shop for." He 
thought of Wolverine and Professor Xavier. "And the others are impossible." 
Cassie looked dubious, as though she wasn't sure whether or not to begin 
worrying. "In any case, we shall give selecting the proper presents a valiant 
try, my dear," he grinned, and she grinned back.

The couple began a methodical perusal of every shop they passed, no matter how 
unlikely it looked from the outside. Hank had been prepared to encounter a 
certain homogeneity of trade goods, but was soon pleasantly surprised to find 
the various shopkeepers of the small town seemed to adhere to the traditional 
Western tenet of rugged individualism. The stock varied fairly widely from store 
to store. Even those that contained a high percentage of gimcracks had DIFFERENT 
gimcracks for sale.

Perhaps appropriately, the first item Hank felt compelled to purchase was for 
Cassie. While inspecting racks of garments emblazoned with images and slogans 
promoting the town, the region, the state of Colorado and indeed the entire 
West, he noticed Cassie gazing with awed admiration on a western-style shirt of 
hand-painted silk. In an instant he was at her side, taking the item from its 
hanger. "Try it on, why don't you?" The clerk who had apparently been about to 
suggest the same thing dropped discretely back.

"Oh. Well...." Cassie looked around, and the clerk pointed out the dressing 
room. She hesitated, then succumbed to temptation. When she returned, her cheeks 
were flushed with pleasure. The sky blue silk suited her perfectly, Hank 
decided, and the delicate silver clouds on the yoke added just the right amount 
of ornamentation without crossing the line into gaudiness. "Did you see the 
back, Hank?" she asked him, turning around. A spirit horse, all sun and mist and 
gilded shadows, flung itself headlong in the ecstacy of ethereal freedom.

"We'll take it," Hank told the clerk, who smiled and began to rummage for a 
suitable packing box. Cassie started to murmur something. "You DO like it, my 
dear?" he queried.

"Oh, yes!" Whatever she had been going to say was lost as she stroked the silk 
sleeve. "Blue is my favorite color," she confided, her eyes giving the simple 
phrase a deeper personal meaning.

The look was as intimate, as seductive, as a caress. "You can wear it to 
Silver's, when we go home," he suggested, picturing a happier night to erase the 
bad memory of the first one; a night out with some of the team, to help further 
their mutual acquaintance. Her happy nod of agreement was encouraging.

While the clerk wrapped the shirt, Hank went back to the other clothing racks, 
where he found the perfect gift for Bobby. It was a hooded sweatshirt 
commemorating an ice carving event held some months previous. 'Poetry in Ice', 
the legend proclaimed, illustrated by a most heroic-looking, sculptured 
individual striking an appropriately artistic pose, halfway between dance and 
fierce attack. "It fits him AND his vanity," Hank assured Cassie. "You'll see 
when you meet him."

The intrepid shoppers acquired a few additional gifts and potential gifts as 
they made their way down the boardwalk, pausing only to enjoy an unusual 
chicken/avocado pizza at a restaurant that claimed to have been in the trade in 
this location for over a hundred years, though admittedly under different 
owners. They stopped to kibitz a group of shouting children running through a 
giant maze attraction ("THERE'S something we haven't done in the Danger Room," 
Hank declared, eyes alight with unholy glee), bought a great deal of homemade 
candy because indulging in excess was easier than making a choice amongst so 
many excellent possibilities, and generally flung themselves happily into each 
trap for tourists as it came along.

"Ooooooh," Cassie said, laying her hands on the plate glass of a shop window to 
get the closest possible view of the objets d'art inside. "Exquisite," Hank 
agreed reverently. "Quite impossible as gifts...but let's go look."

The sign on the door said simply, 'Art of Glass', which made the song of a 
similar title instantly begin playing in Hank's mind. Inside, the walls were 
lined with multiple light boxes, background displays for a shattered rainbow of 
stained glass window hangings. The interior of the shop had racks and shelves of 
figurines, wind chimes and similar ornaments.

"Hi!" said the person behind the sales counter. "Nice day, isn't it?" 
"Wonderful," Cassie agreed, trying to keep herself from reaching out to touch a 
trio of gold and crystal carousel horses suspended from a brass ring. "These are 
beautiful--did you make them?"

"No, but my partner, Blondie, did," said the woman with pride.

"Had to be," Hank murmured, still humming. "She's extremely talented," he said, 
more loudly. "I wish I didn't live in New York."

"Usually, when people from out of state buy something here, we ship it to them," 
the shopkeeper said promptly. "Do it all the time--it's absolutely guaranteed to 
arrive safely. We've had a lot of practice at bundling things up."

"Oh, REALLY?!" Hank answered, eyes agleam, and began to look more closely at the 
items for sale. There were definitely possibilities here. "Cassie, my 
dear...let's SHOP!"

Some time later they emerged, leaving behind several solid and secure packages 
with "DO NOT OPEN! THIS MEANS *YOU*!" written all over them in Hank's firmest 
script. "I must confess, it makes me eager to return home, just to see my 
friends' faces when we give them these," he said as they crossed the street.

Cassie noted the optimistic 'we', but made no comment as to the likelihood 
anyone would think she had much to do with the gift selection process. It warmed 
her to hear Hank say it, though. "You've been thinking about going back already 
anyway," she observed calmly.

"I...suppose," Hank admitted, feeling vaguely guilty. "What makes you say so?"

"You just get...a look, when you talk about your work," she explained. His 
voiced speeded up as well, and his fingers moved, like he was typing. "I 
understand--what you're doing is very important."

"It is." No argument there. "You know that after we go back, I'll be, well, back 
on duty. Long stints in the lab, missions with the team, training sessions...."

"I know. That's what you do. It's okay," she assured him, making a private 
promise that it WOULD be okay, she would MAKE herself deal with it all. "I keep 
myself pretty busy when I'm writing--and the good thing is, I can time my times 
off to fit your times off!" She beamed at him with determined cheerfulness. 
"Maybe we'll appreciate the time together more if we have to work at getting 
some."

"Absence making hearts grow fonder, and all that?" he mused. "Perhaps." He 
kissed her thoughtfully on the top of her head. "You know, you may well be 
correct about the necessary negotiations after an agreement has been reached 
being the more difficult part of the relationship...." They halted in front of 
the door to a hardware shop, shared a querying look, then shook their heads in 
unison, laughing as they travelled on. "But I maintain confidence in our mutual 
problem-solving abilities!"

"You're good at drumming up confidence," she said, squeezing him with the arm 
that was around his waist. "I'm kind of looking forward to going home with you, 
actually."

Though he instantly noted the ambivalence in Cassie's words, Hank chose to focus 
on the positive portion. "I'm glad we're both going," was all he said, with a 
gentle squeeze in return.


(End Part 21A)
PART 21B--GRAND LAKE


As they passed a pay phone Cassie hesitated a half-step, and Hank took notice by 
stopping short. "I...thought I might just call my folks," she said with a 
diffident tilt of her head. "I told them I'd check in, and I don't know when 
we'll be by a phone again soon...."

"Good idea." The phone stood by a canopied picnic area on the edge of the park, 
but the warmth of the sun beckoned Hank to choose a bench a few feet further 
down the sidewalk instead. He placed their collection of shopping bags on the 
seat beside him, crossing his arms behind his head. Leaning back to maximize his 
exposure to the sun, he relaxed as deeply as possible, just keeping one lazy eye 
partly open and on Cassie for the pure pleasure of watching her go through all 
the little motions involved in making a call.

A tourist family came down the walk; Mom in the lead, Dad following, two 
bouncing tykes in the middle of the pack, and a rangy teenager bringing up the 
rear, conscientiously capturing all the sights on a camcorder. Hank was 
immediately aware when the camera lingered an extra second in his direction, and 
just as aware that the young cameraman was trying to disguise this action 
through extreme nonchalance. His unruly sense of humor goaded Hank to turn his 
head, smile and give a cheery half-wave. The boy, catching this through the 
viewfinder, sheepishly waved back, and lowered the camera as the group passed 
by. But his abashed smile was a guileless one. The thought crossed Hank's mind 
that if he did not go home soon, he might lose his touch at producing the 
isolation signals which kept strangers safely separate in urban situations. Not 
that the general openness of Westerners wasn't refreshing, in a way....

Cassie's voice carried to where Hank sat, and he half-listened to her side of 
the conversation as she described their journey thus far. He noted she skipped 
entirely over her little river adventure, which did not surprise him. He'd 
suspected she was an 'editer', prone to spare people from information that would 
disturb them to no purpose. And in this case, he concurred with her judgement.

"Sure, he's right here. Did you want to talk to him?" Hank's attention snapped 
fully to Cassie, who was looking mildly surprised. Then her face grew serious. 
"Okay...." She shook her head at him as she pressed the receiver a little harder 
against her ear, her free hand taking a grip on the cable. She listened without 
saying a word as Hank watched, somehow troubled. When the color suddenly drained 
from her face, he was at her side in two quick strides.

Her grip on the phone was now so tight her knuckles were as white as her face, 
and she did not seem to see him. "No..." she suddenly said. "Don't--I...." She 
closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "I don't know...I have to think...." Hank 
could hear sounds leaking from the receiver, but not well enough to make out any 
words. "Okay," Cassie finished numbly, and handed the phone to Hank, who placed 
it to his ear without taking his eyes off Cassie.

"Hank?"

"Here, Carl," he answered crisply, resisting the urge to shout demands for 
instant information.

"Is Cassie okay?"

Hank had slid his arm around her, and could feel her trembling, but he answered, 
"Yes," anyway. "Has something happened there, sir?"

"No, no, nothin' like that," Carl hastened to reassure him, but there was 
something fierce growling in the back of his voice that made all Hank's systems 
tick over to alert mode. "I had to pass along a message to Cassie, and I don't 
suppose she liked hearin' it any better than I liked tellin' it." There was a 
pregnant pause. "Guess it's her choice whether to talk to you about it or 
not...but, son, I hope to heaven you can. She sounded like she was going to need 
to."

"I'll try," Hank vowed, shaken by the blank, drowned look filling Cassie's eyes. 
There was a quick exchange of goodbyes, and he hung up the phone without 
looking.

Instinctively, Hank guided Cassie towards the bench where he had been sitting, 
and she followed his guidance without protest, like a robot. But the street 
suddenly seemed terribly public to him. A quick glance around showed him another 
bench against one wall of the community theater building, facing the currently 
empty playground. He gathered up the shopping bags, then steered Cassie to the 
more private location, one protective arm around her shoulders.

The bench was in shadow, and there was a startling drop of temperature when they 
entered the shade, which echoed the chill collecting in Hank's heart. He sat 
down, then tugged gently on Cassie's hand to pull her down beside him. She was 
still staring outwards, blind to everything around her, intent only on some 
unknown horror in her mind. "Cassie?" When she didn't move, he touched his 
fingertips to her chin, and brought her face around. "Talk to me, Cassie," he 
implored. "Let me help."

Cassie blinked her eyes into focus, but as soon as she seemed to really see him, 
she ducked her head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry...I'm such a ninny," she said 
faintly.

Hank ignored this for the time being. "Your father said he had to pass on a 
disturbing message?" She held so still, he was afraid she was slipping away from 
him again, but at last she nodded. "He also said it must be your choice, whether 
to discuss it with me or not...." 'But if I am ANYTHING more to you than a 
pleasant diversion,' he added silently, 'PLEASE do.'

Cassie had regained some modicum of control. "Dad told me he got a letter 
from...a doctor who's...trying to find me."

"A doctor?"

"A psychiatrist or something. He's working with..." he heard the pause, felt her 
gather herself as if for a daunting physical effort, "...Bob."

So. The malignant shadow from her past had a name. "Why does he want to find 
you?"

"He wants me to--" A violent shudder racked her, and Hank put his arms around 
her, expecting a storm of tears. But she was beyond that, and not yet able to 
accept his comfort, either. Back and shoulders rigid with the effort it took to 
speak, Cassie went on. "Wants me to come to a therapy session with him."

"With...." It made no sense at first; why would some strange psychiatrist want 
Cassie to come to him for treatment? Then a different identity for the pronoun 
suggested itself, and it explained her reaction all too clearly. "Oh, no! That 
would be MOST inappropriate!" Hank spluttered, outraged. "Cassie, trust me, 
there is NO way you can be required to submit to such an invasive, potentially 
dangerous situation."

"But...." Now she looked at him, and it was like a replay of seeing her swept 
away again, but this time lost in a river of dangerous emotion. "I...think I 
should."

Hank could only gape at her in stunned silence, until she looked away again. 
Knowing he ought to take the time to form a carefully kind argument, but also 
knowing every second's further delay made his implied criticism stronger, he 
blurted, "But, dear Cassie, WHY? It is YOU who were the injured, and innocent, 
party in the matter. He nearly killed you, did you great emotional harm as well. 
You owe him NOTHING!" All she did was shake her head. "I don't understand," he 
went on, helplessly. Suddenly she was a stranger to him, alien. "Is it...that 
you still love him?"

That brought her head around fast, and her eyes searched his. "No. That's the 
trouble."

"It is?" He felt unaccustomedly stupid, for some reason.

"I used to. And I promised to love him forever. But I didn't." She wrung her 
hands, letting her head droop forward, like a flower grown too heavy for the 
wilting stem of her neck.

'Isn't that HIS fault, that you didn't?' Hank asked silently, since to say it 
would seem to be an unfair attack on a rival who could not respond. But he'd had 
some experience with the razor's edge that divided what you felt was right from 
what you would prefer to do; wavering between the two could cut a person rather 
deeply.

"A mistake in judgement, at worst," he asserted. "Certainly nothing that would 
require you to sacrifice YOUR hard-won sanity in a hopeless cause."

She seemed to consider this, and slowly raised her face to his. "Why do you 
think it's hopeless?"

"I have heard of this type of therapy, and, except in unusual cases, I 
disapprove of it most vehemently. If your...former husband's treatment were 
progressing well, his doctors MIGHT seek to learn whether you had made a full 
recovery, to reinforce his improvement. But since they are asking you to meet 
with him, face to face..." Cassie shuddered again, a violently clear expression 
of her true feelings, "...I fear they are feeling at a loss, and hope to incite 
remorse in him by letting him see you, hear you tell him how much he hurt you." 
He wished she would reach out to him physically for comfort; the way she stayed 
huddled into herself disturbed him on several levels. "The technique CAN be 
helpful, in certain cases. But I am not at all sanguine that the dynamics here 
are acceptable for that purpose."

"You mean...I'd freak out, and he wouldn't care."

Or he would enjoy it. Couldn't risk saying that either. "You know him. I do not. 
But...if I may make one more observation? To have a biochemical imbalance cause 
mental instability is not something anyone would choose, not a matter of fault. 
However...when it manifests in violence towards another...I feel it may indicate 
a tendency that already existed. One that possibly still exists."

"But...there would be someone else there...." Cassie interjected, alarm making 
her eyes go wide, like a doe caught in the headlights of oncoming traffic.

"I'D be there," Hank snapped automatically, then struggled to control his 
instant reaction of wrath at the thought someone might DARE to endanger Cassie. 
"If you wanted me to be, that is." He stroked his hand over her hair, as if 
smoothing it could soothe the turmoil beneath. "Be assured that, whatever you 
choose to do, I will stand by you, and help in whatever way I can."

"But you don't think I should." Her tone was flat.

"It must be your decision, Cassie. I know what I think...but actually, I am 
trying fairly hard not to press my opinion on you too forcefully."

"Would you think the same...if it wasn't me involved?"

Hank did his best to strip the problem of all personal meaning, mentally turn it 
into a case history in a journal for the moment. At last he said, "If I knew 
what I already know, from you...I would. Even as a disinterested observer, I 
would seriously question the potential usefulness of this technique when weighed 
against the probable injury done to the former victim."

Cassie nodded slowly to herself, then stood. "Let's walk, Hank, okay? It's cold 
here." He rose silently, and as they crossed the small park, gently put his arm 
around her shoulders. She allowed it, even leaning into him a bit. The sun 
seemed suddenly to dim, and he looked overhead to note the leading edge of a 
heavy bank of clouds beginning to obscure the sky. A brisk breeze had sharpened 
while they sat in the lee of the building.

Neither of them spoke as Hank followed Cassie's aimless steps, which eventually 
led them across the street and down a small side spur to the edge of Grand Lake. 
It sprawled before them, grey rumpled ice frosted by skiffs of snow. Something 
about it seemed to draw Cassie, which he found unsettling.

There were crude piers made from planks lashed to oil drums reaching out to what 
would be open water in a few weeks. As they stepped out on one, their combined 
weight made it groan and bob, the ice cracking ominously, but Hank thought it 
felt solid enough for the moment. From the end of the dock they could see a 
patch of open water, far away in the center of the lake. "Talk to me, Cassie," 
he said at last, encircling her from behind in what he hoped was a comforting 
embrace. "I'm feeling a bit left out here."

"I was just thinking...this is never going to end." Hank tightened his arms, 
knowing from her tone she did not refer to their current sojourn. "Just when I 
think I'm over it all at last, something new happens."

"I know the feeling," he replied, and Cassie automatically squeezed his hands in 
commiseration, which he hoped was a good sign. "But I have found...there is no 
changing the past, at least not without tremendous cost to the present and 
future." This caused her to look at him oddly, and he wondered what meaning she 
was ascribing to his words. Not the literal one he meant, he was sure. "It's 
better to come to terms with one's past, and move on from there."

"I'm trying. I've BEEN trying," she protested quietly. "But now I'm dragging you 
into it. That's not fair to you."

"Cassie." This habitual putting off was growing painful. "Have I done ANYTHING 
to make you think I don't want to be involved?"

"That's not the point."

"Then explain the point to me," he stated evenly, determined not to add to her 
burdens at the moment, but equally determined to gain SOME understanding this 
time.

"Hank--" She wriggled impatiently out from under his arms, turning towards him, 
taking no notice of how precariously close she stood to the edge of the dock. 
"Face it, I'm a hysterical mess! You deserve better than that." A gust of icy 
wind sang through the cracks in the pier.

"If we always got what we deserve, you would never have been hurt the way you 
were," he said in a quiet but firm voice. "What is the real issue here, Cassie?" 
It silenced her, and the only thing in the world were her wide eyes. "Tell me 
what you're really afraid of."

"Of hurting you, Hank. Somehow. Not being able to help it," she blurted, then 
bit her lower lip. Tears began to gather in her eyes.

Hank pulled her to him in a hard embrace. It was good to see the rigid barriers 
of her misguided control give way, but quite difficult to have to endure tears 
for his sake. "I'll take the chance, if it means having you in my life," he 
whispered, bringing his head close to hers.

"For as long as you want me," she said, half-sobbing out the words. "I'm not 
going to break another promise, but...for as long as you want me to, I'll stay 
with you."

"All right, Cassie," was all he found to say. From the expression of desperate 
gratitude on her face when she turned it up to his, it seemed that it might 
suffice. "It WILL be all right," he assured them both, somehow producing a smile 
for her. She nodded and managed to return a shaky version of it. "For now, 
though, what do you say we seek out a warmer place to continue this 
discussion--providing, of course, that that's what you wish to do?"

For the first time, she seemed to take notice of the steadily lowering sky, and 
the chill in the wind. "You're saying you don't want to camp out tonight?" she 
said, in a brave attempt at recapturing the previous light mood.

"Not right here, right now," Hank temporized, silently rejoicing to see her 
making an effort at humor. "One presumes Grand Lake has motels...."

"I would think so."

"Then...shall we, my dear Cassie?" He swept his hand out in a gallant 'after 
you' gesture, pointing the way back. Wordlessly, she slipped her arm around his 
waist, her grip almost tight enough to make him think she needed his support to 
make it that far. The ice creaked a sort of goodbye as the pair moved in tandem, 
heading for the shore, and eventual sanctuary.


Susan the Neon Nurse
(Susan Crites/CRITESS) Email to carosue@iguana.ruralnet.net


INFO, ETC.

There is also a mailing list for people who want to get new chapters ASAP. Be 
warned--you sometimes get odd extra mailings as well, when the spirit moves 
me....

Disclaimer: Since I am a) inserting a new character and b) not privy to any of 
Marvel's editorial decisions, this story is forced to be an alternate universe. 
It is similar to the 'real' one when it works out, plotwise, okay? And I DO make 
mistakes sometimes, I know. Such is life.

"$$ doesn't buy happiness, if you don't know where to shop."


----------
Neon Hearts Part 22. The author would like to formally crave everyone's indulgence 
of her silliness and general egotism in this section....

The Marvel characters are, as has been mentioned in passing before, copyright to 
Marvel. Other characters will have to look out for themselves and each 
other--fortunately, that's what they do anyway!


PART 22--LIFE IN THE BREAKDOWN LANE


Hank stood on the roadside in the almost-actually-hot midday sun, his irritation 
well past extreme and edging over into near-infinite. In the last few days, he 
and Cassie had made a nearly non-stop pilgrimage to every worthy scenic sight in 
the entire state of Colorado. But it was only NOW, when they seemed to be in the 
exact square center of nowhere at all, population zero, that the gods had seen 
fit to inflict a blowout on them. And that was far from the worst of it....

Fisted hands on hips, head tilted to match the unnatural camber of the 4x4's 
body caused by the flat tire, he frowned into the empty holder where a jack 
ought to have resided. "I shall CERTAINLY have something to say to the rental 
company when we return this vehicle." His mood was not helped by the fact they 
had had to unload the entire cargo section to get to the place where the jack 
wasn't.

"Narf?" Cassie said very softly, giving him a deliberately idiotic look, her 
tongue lolling out to one side of her mouth.

Her teasing miraculously melted his rancor, and a grin gradually emerged on 
Hank's face as his usual sense of humor reasserted itself. "Are you...pondering 
what I'm pondering?"

"Oi think so, but..." Cassie made a show of considering their surroundings, and 
when she met his eyes again, the teasing look had been augmented by something 
much more adult-oriented, "...isn't the public roadside awfully...public? Plus 
there's sandburrs."

Hank grinned even more broadly, while shaking his head in mock sorrow. "I knew 
we should have rented a minivan." Cassie's unequivocal ardor still gave him a 
mild, pleasant shock each time she let it show. Not to discount the importance 
of being in tune with one another mentally and emotionally--but it was a 
decidedly agreeable notion, to be growing sure she felt a genuine passion for 
him despite his unusual physique. "To return to the problem at hand, 
however...."

They were currently in the southern part of the state, where Cassie had 
relations she had taken a notion to visit. Undulating plains of faintly greening 
grass and scrub stretched to the horizon in all directions, with the only 
manmade structures currently in sight being a fence and the ubiquitous 
powerlines. Plus the 4x4 with their luggage strewn around it, of course.

"At least we have a good spare," Cassie said with determined cheer. "If we can 
get to a phone, we can call my relatives, and someone can drive out with a 
jack."

Hank considered this. They had passed a town some miles back, farther than he 
cared to walk if it wasn't necessary. And the idea of wandering up to a 
stranger's door in search of a telephone seemed foolhardy, even though he 
understood such behavior was considered commonplace out here. He rather thought 
he could manage to change the tire without tools, provided Cassie was able to 
assist at the times he could not be doing two tasks at once.

Just as he was preparing to outline his plan, a grey car approached from the 
east, slowing as it passed. The driver was frankly staring. With a mixture of 
appreciation and mild worry, Hank watched the car brake, then make a u-turn to 
draw up behind them.

As the vehicle's door opened, he stepped closer to Cassie, just in case. The 
woman who got out was hardly threatening looking, though. She was short and 
stout, with a tousled cap of blond hair, and glasses she pushed up on her nose 
as she eyed them. "Problems?" she inquired with a friendly smile.

"It would seem the rental company from which we procured this vehicle did not 
anticipate a need for its patrons to deal with minor road hazards," Hank said, 
feeling irritated all over again.

"No jack," Cassie clarified helpfully.

"THAT'S plenty annoying, isn't it?"The woman took a quick peek into the empty 
luggage area, as if she suspected they, being tourists, might have somehow 
overlooked it. "Well, you're sure welcome to use ours."

During this exchange, the other occupants of the car had emerged; a tall, 
bearded youth and another woman, this one with brown hair, who had removed a 
young boy with glasses from a child's car seat, then boosted him to a good 
vantage point on the front hood. Cassie moved a little nearer to the child. "Hi, 
guy. What's your name?"

"His name is Michael," his caretaker answered for him. "Do you want to say hi, 
Michael?" In response, Michael tucked his face into the woman's neck, although 
he peeped back at Cassie, curiosity overcoming his natural reserve.

"He's shy with strangers sometimes," the blond woman explained, with an 
indulgent smile at the boy.

Michael brought his face enough out of hiding to focus on Hank. Leaning forward, 
the child studied him carefully, then looked at the blonde. "EY-eee?" he said to 
her, touching his own glasses.

"Yes, he does have glasses like us. That's neat, huh?" She smiled as she looked 
at the faintly bewildered Hank.

"Boo!" Michael added, now pointing as he looked to the blonde for confirmation.

"AND he's blue, right. That's something different, isn't it? She had moved to 
her car's forward window, and was fishing out a bulky tangle of keys and 
keychains from the ignition. Hank noted a miniature Etch-A-Sketch and a 
corkscrew amidst a collection of medallions and other ornaments dangling on a 
long string.

"Hi!" Michael said, having made the sudden decision that these two strangers 
were yet more members of his fanclub.

"Hi," Cassie replied, drawing closer as if drawn by invisible bands. "How old 
are you?"

"He's three," answered the brown-haired woman. Interpreting Cassie's puzzled 
look as a question, she added, "Michael doesn't talk much yet."

Hank abruptly caught on to the odd conversational style. "Cognitive delays?" he 
asked the woman closer to him.

Her chin jerked up a trifle, and he could almost see the analysis flash through 
her mind as she considered what to say to him. Did HE look that way, he 
wondered, when fielding personal questions from strangers? "A processing 
disorder," she finally said, eyes narrowing a bit. "Do you work in the DD 
field?"

"No, mostly genetics." Hank smiled as disarmingly as he could, hoping he had not 
offended the little fellow's family with his observation.

"HI!" Michael shouted, drawing the attention back to himself. He thrust out his 
hand, palm upwards, to Hank. This left Hank at a loss, until he saw Cassie mouth 
the words, 'High five,'. With extreme care, he tapped his huge palm against the 
tiny one, then turned his up to receive the little boy's return stroke.

"Aw-RI!!!" crowed Michael, with an expectant look.

"All right!" his family dutifully echoed, laughing.

"Thanks, he loves that," the blonde confided. Hank could see he had elevated 
himself several dozen notches in her esteem by that simple act. Amenities over, 
she moved to open the trunk of their car, and the rest of the group followed. It 
was almost as full as the 4x4 had been. "You know," the blonde mused to the 
youth with the beard, "we REALLY should put this camping stuff away sometime."

"But why, Mom? It's almost camping season again," her son observed wryly, as he 
began to hand things out to her and Hank.

"True," she admitted. With three of them working, the trunk was soon empty. But 
after throwing back the carpet that covered the wheel well, she said mildly, 
"Sterling...the jack handle isn't here."

The boy did a quick survey of the disloaded items and the trunk, much as his 
mother had done a few minutes before, and no doubt for a similar reason. "No, 
it's not," he agreed.

"Why not?" she demanded, with the barest hint of a peevish tone in her voice.

Sterling regarded her with pained indulgence. "And...you're asking 
me...because...?"

"Because..." she was plainly searching for a legitimate reason to justify her 
implied accusation, "...you're standing here? And it would be dang silly to ask 
Michael...."

"Or me!" inserted the woman holding Michael.

"Yes, or Caro...."

"*I* haven't changed any flats lately," Sterling stated, crossing his arms over 
his chest, as though this was a mark of honor.

"MY guess is the culprit has a German accent," Caro volunteered darkly.

This pronouncement seemed to make sense to the blonde, who shook her head in 
annoyance before turning to Hank. "I'm SO sorry--I thought we had a COMPLETE 
jack," she told him apologetically. "Looks like all we can add towards solving 
your problem is a tire tool."

"Actually, with that and some assistance from you or your son, I think we can 
manage." They went back to the front of the grey car. Caro sat Michael on the 
hood again, and Cassie began trying, with noticeable success, to entertain him.

"First I'll remove the lug nuts," Hank said to his two attentive helpers, 
following his words with the actions. "If one of you would care to get the 
spare?" The boy named Sterling dutifully grabbed it up from the spot where Hank 
had laid it to go in search of the jack, and placed it in a handy spot by the 
flat tire.

Once all the lug nuts were off and neatly piled in an easily accessed spot, Hank 
moved to the rear of his vehicle. "Now I'll lift the car and you switch the 
tires," he said, and braced himself for their amazement and questions.

Instead, Sterling and his mother gave identical brisk nods. Cassie, the other 
woman and Michael all moved well back, just in case of problems. Trying to 
disguise his pleasure at the chance to show off for Cassie, Hank heaved the back 
half of the 4x4 off the ground with all the style of, and a great deal more 
grace than, an Olympic weightlifter.

The instant the back wheels cleared the pavement, the blond yanked the flat tire 
off, at the same time crowing, "YOW! This man is a trained professional, kids! 
Do NOT try this at home!" As soon as she'd pulled the flat tire out of the way, 
her son socked the spare into place, and within seconds, the pair had the lug 
nuts on tight enough to let Hank lower the vehicle to the ground. "Teamwork!" 
exulted the blonde woman with a broad smile, as she dusted her hands off on her 
jeans.

"Let's 'teamwork' all this stuff back into the cars," suggested Sterling, giving 
the distinct impression of someone who had been left to do the detail work alone 
a few too many times. This took only another couple of minutes.

"Okay, you're all set," the blonde observed. "You should be able to get your 
tire repaired in Las Animas or Lamar, if you want. But your spare looks good, so 
you shouldn't have any problems."

"Thank you so much for your assistance," Hank said, and Cassie nodded her strong 
agreement. "But before you go...may I ask you where you got the t-shirt you're 
wearing?" It featured a young female in a martial arts uniform, doing a kick 
well over her head. The legend read, 'When someone says you kick like a girl, 
take it as a compliment!'. He was certain Betsy would love it.

"Sure--but there's only one place you can get one that I know of, and it's up by 
Denver."

"Not a problem. We'll be heading back that way soon."

"Okay. I'll draw you a map." After a short period of rooting around her car for 
her purse, and then searching for the notepad secreted within it, she did so. 
"It's the corner of the little group of shops, where the sign says 'Tae Kwon 
Do'. Tell 'em Ms. Crites sent you, and that I said Hi!"

'Ah,' Hank thought. "So that's why you have no qualms about stopping to help 
strangers at the side of the road?"

"Nope, not a qualm in the world," said the blonde with a wicked grin. "If we 
were to stop to help someone and they got out of line, we have a plan. 
Sterling'd hit 'em high and I'd hit 'em low." Hank added his grin to hers, in 
appreciation of the mental image. "And Caro would keep score!"

"And Michael?" he inquired, just to play the humor to its conclusion.

"Michael takes notes for future reference," she laughed.

"Is that right, Michael?" Cassie cooed. She had advanced to holding him, to his 
obvious enjoyment. "Are you a tough boy?"

"Yah!" he exclaimed, cupping her face in his hands, brown eyes gleaming.

They made their goodbyes, after Michael demanded and got a hug and a kiss from 
Cassie. The last glimpse they had of their helpers was various arms waving from 
open windows as the grey car reversed its direction again and headed away down 
the highway.

"Well, that went much better than it might have," Hank remarked jovially, as 
they merged back onto the road.

"Yes," Cassie agreed, still looking behind at the grey car disappearing into a 
speck against the flat horizon. "I didn't know you could lift a whole car," she 
added, changing the subject.

"I'm a man of many talents," Hank informed her solemnly.

"Tons of talents," she agreed, and he thought he detected a hint of dismay in 
her tone. "That Michael was a cute little guy, wasn't he?" she continued, 
altering the subject once again.

"Yes, he was. He certainly seemed to like you."

"Did you hear that lady say he was adopted?"

"No, I missed that." Hank checked Cassie's expression; she looked contemplative, 
but not blank and distant, as she might if she were upset.

"Adoption can be a good way to build a family, I guess," she said tentatively, 
and looked to him.

"There are a lot of children without families," he agreed. "My friend Scott was 
raised in an orphanage. He didn't like it."

"Oh, dear." She sat quietly, lost in thought for a time. "You know, when I meet 
little kids, it makes me wonder if I would be a good mother."

"My dear, I am certain that you would be an EXCELLENT mother," Hank assured her. 
His tone lowered as he struggled to express his sincerity. "I have no doubts 
about your ability to love someone unconditionally."

The glow these simple words brought to her face set off a responsive warmth 
within him. She took his hand and said simply, "Thank you, Hank."

"Any time, Cassie." 'Any time I can make you look like that with a few words,' 
he added to himself, 'you can be certain I will.' Happy, in tune with the 
universe and each other, they proceeded down the open highway.


Susan the Neon Nurse
(Susan Crites/CRITESS) Email to carosue@iguana.ruralnet.net


INFO, ETC.

There is also a mailing list for people who want to get new chapters ASAP. Be 
warned--you sometimes get odd extra mailings as well, when the spirit moves 
me....

Disclaimer: Since I am a) inserting a new character and b) not privy to any of 
Marvel's editorial decisions, this story is forced to be an alternate universe. 
It is similar to the 'real' one when it works out, plotwise, okay? And I DO make 
mistakes sometimes, I know. Such is life.

"On the road of experience, join in the living day;
If there's an answer, it's just that it's just that way...."
('Looking for Space', John Denver)


--------------
Neon Hearts Part 23. Continuing with the longest vacation in the history 
of...well, of fan fiction, at least. Marvel's copyright never sleeps, tho....


PART 23--FAMILY MATTERS


"Just park over there, under the trees," Cassie suggested, leaning eagerly 
forward on the edge of her seat. The row of huge cottonwoods she had indicated 
lined one edge of a large barnyard, then extended out and around the back of the 
big white two-story farmhouse. Hank pulled in as instructed, their dusty 4x4 
looking right at home behind the largest pickup he had ever seen outside of late 
night tv coverage of monster truck rallies.

They got out and the curious calves which had clustered to examine this new 
vehicle darted away to a safer distance, then stood staring, heads low, white 
faces a bright contrast to their red and black hides. The momentary alarm of the 
calves brought a mottled grey and black and white dog on the run, barking a 
warning.

"Buster, it's okay, it's me. Buster, now hush!" The dog ranged around them in a 
circle, eyeing Cassie until it got her scent, which caused it to abruptly cease 
barking and wriggle up to her. Cassie rewarded Buster by kneeling beside him and 
thoroughly scratching him from ears to stomach, making Hank feel faintly 
envious. But considering the way the dog kept watching him the whole time, he 
was disinclined to interrupt the reunion.

At the sound of a screen door slamming, Hank looked up to see a bird-like old 
woman bustling their way. "Cassie, sweetheart!"

"Grandma!" Cassie flew to her, and Hank followed with alacrity, not wanting to 
be involved in any scenes that might follow him having had to defend himself 
from the family canine. The two women locked into an ecstatic embrace, complete 
with many joyful exclamations.

Once she released Cassie, the woman turned to Hank. "My land, I thought Carl was 
pulling my leg, but you ARE blue, aren't you?" He smiled, but was saved the 
trouble of thinking up a polite response because his hostess was not yet ready 
to pass the conversational ball. "Well, forever more, I'll have to tell him that 
when he calls again...have y'eat yet? No? Well, I'll bet we can find something 
to hold body and soul together a while longer! Come on in...." Cassie caught his 
eye, and rolled hers in an invitation to share her fond amusement at her 
grandmother's loquaciousness. Apparently being able to hold up his end of the 
conversation in another Cantrell family venue would NOT be a problem....

Cassie waved Hank into a chrome-legged kitchen chair and proceeded to set the 
matching table, which intrigued Hank with its variegated crimson formica top. 
"We don't have much, but it's nobody's business but ours," Viola said merrily, 
as she hauled out fried chicken, potato salad and half a dozen other dishes from 
a refrigerator nearly as big as the one at the mansion. "Plus there's pie, of 
course." Well, if one HAD to visit someone else's relatives, Hank reflected, it 
was at least pleasant they would turn out to be friendly ones who could cook!

A husky man entered the kitchen, pulling off his grimy billed cap to reveal 
rusty-blond hair starting to thin on top. "Hi, Vic!" Cassie said with happy 
enthusiasm.

Hi, Cass," he replied. To Hank, his smile looked slightly strained, but Cassie 
didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. With a nod to Hank, he 
turned to wash up in the sink.

"Hank, this is my cousin Vic," she explained. As he nodded a return greeting, 
Hank thought unkindly that he knew someone else named Victor who was almost as 
friendly. But then, maybe he was misjudging the man. Maybe Vic happened to be 
the only one in this entire family not prone to excesses of warm feeling on 
first acquaintance.

As they ate, Viola helpfully outlined what seemed to be the Cantrell's entire 
family genealogy back to those questionable Civil War raiders. 'Couldn't pick 
myself an orphan like Jean did,' Hank thought ruefully. 'It will take years to 
get all these people straight.' He could picture them talking behind his back at 
family reunions. "May be a science fella, but no head atall for names!" At least 
he was bolstered up throughout the meal with speaking glances from Cassie, light 
touches of her foot under the table, and some truly excellent potato salad.

At the end of the meal, Vic muttered something about passing a message to the 
hands, and ducked out. "Now you kids run along, I'll clear this up," Viola said 
firmly.

"Don't be silly, Grandma," Cassie retorted with a sassy grin. "It'll only take a 
minute if we all help."

After further debate that appeared to run a traditional course, Viola agreed to 
allow them to assist her. To Hank's mild dismay, her idea of doing things right 
included all of them wearing aprons; he was not certain whether this was to 
protect them from dishwater, or the dishes from dust and other contamination 
from their clothes. He pondered this question as a field exercise in the 
sociology of days gone by while he dried dishes with a cloth embroidered with 
bright flowers and tiny bees, only half-listening to Viola's extensive news 
report of living, and some nonliving, family members and friends.

Cassie washed dishes and said, "Uh-huh" at appropriate places, giving Hank 
regular warm smiles. "I wish I had my camera," she murmured during a brief lull 
in the flow of one-sided conversation.

His eyebrow flicked into a squelching frown, which was no more serious than her 
teasing. But he was quite happy to leave this moment uncaptured for posterity. 
Not that he thought of himself as overly traditional about gender roles, but the 
colorful flour sack print with lace ruffles just wasn't HIM. At least he rather 
hoped it wasn't.

When they were done, Cassie said, "We're going to run out behind the barn, okay, 
Grandma?" Hank's spirits rose a bit at this; he'd of course heard jokes about 
the things that went on behind the barn out in the country, and he didn't 
imagine Cassie wanted to smoke corn silks. But before leaving the kitchen, she 
took a handful of carrots out of the refrigerator, and he surmised with a silent 
sigh that they were merely going to look at the livestock.

Outside, they walked across the hard, bare dirt of the open farmyard, heading 
for a gate beside the barn. Vic must have been watching for them, because he 
came out and stopped in their path. "We're going to go see Candy," Cassie said, 
brandishing her carrots.

"I figured. Were you plannin' on headin' out after that?" Vic was not only 
avoiding Hank's gaze, but Cassie's as well, pretending to be looking for 
something in his shirt pocket.

His demeanor must have at last stuck Cassie as odd. "Why?" she asked, voice 
tense.

"I...just think it would be better if you weren't here when Jessie and Joe get 
home."

Cassie's mouth dropped open, and it took her a moment to speak. "Why not, Vic? I 
haven't seen them since Christmas!"

Vic shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and shrugged uncomfortably. 
"Jessie's...at a stage. You know how girls get. Been braggin' at school about 
how you're kin to her...Lou's worried it's a bad influence. Your romance stories 
and all."

"A bad INFLUENCE? Louise thinks--?" Whatever else she was going to say, Cassie 
squelched. "I know she thinks they're silly, but she's never said anything like 
that before."

'Not to your face,' Hank said silently, while determining to keep out of this if 
at all possible.

"Well, after all," Vic continued doggedly, trying to defend his wife, "here you 
are goin' around with...with a man, and you not married or anythin'."

Cassie's shoulders stiffened as her eyes narrowed. "Is that it, Vic? Or is it 
Hank being a mutant?" She took Hank's hand with her free one. "Because I've seen 
plenty of members of this family bring live-in girl friends to get-togethers, 
and no one's EVER said they were a bad influence to the children."

"Cassie, it's your own business," Vic said roughly. "And my family is MY own 
business. Let's just leave it at that, okay?"

"I never knew you thought this way, Vic." Her voice was low, trembling with 
suppressed emotion. Imminent tears or anger? Hank wondered. "And I thought *I* 
was your family, too."

"Well, of course y'are! And you don't need to make it sound like I'm a Klan 
member or somethin'!" Hank could see the man was genuinely upset at having to 
chose between his cousin's feelings and what were apparently his wife's demands. 
"But...Lou's family maybe raised her to think a little different about...stuff 
like this...."

"Stuff like WHAT, Vic?" Her thinned lips spoke of her determination to make him 
say it outright.

"Hell, Cassie, she don't even like people of different colors gettin' together 
when they're REGULAR colors, you know that." Vic was very nearly pleading now, 
or as close as he was likely to allow himself to get.

Cassie snorted, and shook her hair back from her face, eyes ablaze. "Yes, I DO 
know that. And I think...I think...." she shook her carrots at him, fairly 
quivering with indignation "...if ANYONE standing here has embarrassed the 
family by who they've picked to bring into it...." She inhaled deeply, nostrils 
flaring. "...I don't think it's ME!"

The cousins stared at each other for one long, uncomfortable moment. Then, chin 
high, Cassie brushed past, saying "Goodbye, Vic," with icy dignity.

Hank followed Cassie's lead, indecently curious as to what her feelings would be 
once the adrenalin from the confrontation had worn off. Her attack on her 
cousin, mild though it might seem to some, was as unexpected as if a canary had 
suddenly launched itself into battle with a hawk. It opened up a whole new 
aspect of her character for him.

The expression on her face right now could only be described as 'fierce'. 
Strangely enough, that gave him a warm glow which made Vic's rebuff on his 
wife's behalf seem oddly inconsequential. Hank had thus far seen Cassie upset, 
terrified, crying her heart out; he'd also seen her happy, laughing--and the way 
she had of regarding him with tranquil bliss as they lay in each other's arms 
was something he doubted he would ever tire of. But he had not seen her angry 
before this moment. Though it would never do to tell her so, he thought it made 
her look adorable.

"Well-defended, my dear. Thank you," he said warmly, as they halted in front of 
the gate to the field.

She flipped loose a chain from a slot in a welded-on metal plate, and he helped 
her open, then close the gate. "Vic didn't used to be like this," she told him, 
shaking her head. "I've never liked Louise that much. Maybe now I know why."

"Something you'll have to get used to, if you keep company with me. Situations 
like this are sadly not that rare." No doubt by now it was a superfluous 
warning.

The indignance in her eyes was not directed at him, Hank knew. "If people want 
to be that way," she said, taking his hand and squeezing it tight, "and miss out 
on getting to know you, well, that's THEIR loss!"

"Good attitude to take," he said, squeezing back. Much as he hated to be the 
cause of a schism between Cassie and any part of her family, it was nevertheless 
a relief to find her so firmly on his side.

They paused at the head of a track which was little more than shallow tire 
tracks in the dusty grey-tan earth. Cassie scanned the flat horizon, then headed 
out towards a group of animals sheltered from the sun by a small bank of 
cottonwoods growing next to a windmill. "Vic was...kind of a hero to me when I 
was growing up. He was a lot older, but he let me tag after him when I'd come 
down for visits in the summer, or on holidays. Gave me rides on his horse, 
things like that." She laughed. "He could do rope tricks, and they had an old 
dog then that he'd trained to do amazing things. Not too many older boys would 
make the time to entertain a squirt." She paused, lost in memories. "I'm sorry 
you had to meet him like this."

"People do change, as they grow older," was all Hank dared to let himself say.

"His kids are neat, too. Jessie writes to me sometimes." Now Cassie did look 
like she was going to cry.

Hoping to avert this, Hank grabbed for the faint anomaly in her previous 
statement. "I thought you were raised here."

"Oh, no-we moved up to Denver just before I started kindergarten, because of 
Dad's job. See, he was the youngest child--" her voice grew lighter; his 
distraction had worked "--and not very long after he married Mom, he got on with 
the Post Office as a part time carrier down here, until they transferred him. He 
worked up there until he retired."

"Oh. But I thought you said...you wanted to come here because of the best part 
of your childhood?"

"Yes. And there she is."

Standing in the dappled shade of the old trees was a group of half a dozen 
horses. Cassie made a whistling sound, and held the carrots up. Several of the 
animals started to edge away, but from the center of the group, a lanky-looking 
shaggy one began to shoulder forward. It was the only pied one; mostly reddish 
brown with jagged white splotches. "C'mon, Candy, good ol' girl," Cassie 
murmured, walking right into the group. Hank followed closely, his brain mapping 
out potential escape routes for them both just in case the animals decided to 
stampede, or whatever mischief horses in a group got up to.

Seeing the older mare showing interest in the newcomers made the suspicious ones 
try to squeeze back in, especially when Candy started crunching the carrots. 
"You're all WOOLY still, aren't you?" Cassie said lovingly, scratching the 
horse's neck with long, rapid strokes that made red and white hair fly. "Was it 
a bad winter, girl?" She looked back at Hank to gauge his opinion of what was 
clearly her darling. "Do you want to feed her a carrot, Hank?"

"Will she take one from me?" he hedged. He was accustomed to being the largest 
being in almost any given group, but right now he felt like just another puny 
human.

"Of course." She gave him one, and he held it out warily. Candy snuffed it with 
great care, and blew out a great, moist gust through those huge pink-white 
nostrils before she deigned to accept his offering. Hank discreetly wiped his 
hand on the back of his shirt as Cassie fended off an attempt by one of the 
other animals to muscle in on Candy's territory. Candy joined in by swinging her 
head, ears back and teeth bared, at the interloper. The other one squealed, and 
there was some fast sidling for position until Cassie stepped forward, smacking 
the offender on the neck. "Hey there, you--get along! Git!!" The herd hastily 
spread out a few yards, then stopped, staring at them with accusing brown eyes.

"You know that big backyard at my folks' house, that Dad was turning so he could 
start his garden? When I was a kid, that was Cassie's corral. Back then a lot of 
people still had horses in residential neighborhoods in Lakewood. Mom and Dad 
got her for me when I was 8 and she was a yearling, so she's almost 20 now." As 
she talked, Cassie petted and rubbed her old friend, who gave every appearance 
of enjoying it. "After I graduated from college and moved out, I didn't want to 
sell her. So we brought her here for Vic's kids, and he said he'd take care of 
her, even after she got old."

"Do they ride her still?" Hank wasn't sure how old old was, for horses, but this 
one looked to be well on the geriatric side, even to his inexperienced eyes.

"Not much. Both the kids have their own horses now." Cassie smoothed her hand 
over the faintly protruding ridge of Candy's spine. "She still could be, 
though." Flashing Hank a grin he was starting to recognize as a sign he might 
want to start worrying right about now, Cassie patted the horse with two firm 
taps, bent her knees, then vaulted upwards. She landed almost halfway across the 
horse's back, and with a few flailing kicks, inched forward enough to scramble 
aboard. Candy stood four-square with her head at shoulder height, looking 
patiently resigned.

Hank reflected with an indulgent smile that he was probably seeing a very 
accurate flashback to a Cassie about 12 years old, full to the brim of her soul 
with enthusiasm for adventure. "Heigh-ho," he remarked, crossing his arms and 
waiting to see what would come next.

Cassie took a handful of mane, and did SOMETHING--the motion was too subtle for 
Hank to catch--which made Candy lift her head and move out in a smooth walk past 
him into the open field. With some trepidation, Hank merely watched, smiling a 
bit stiffly as the horse increased its speed. He certainly hoped it was at 
Cassie's instigation.

For an senior citizen type horse, Candy moved with remarkable grace, and Hank 
applauded when she and Cassie cantered through a figure 8 pattern. At this, 
Cassie sat back, and the old mare stopped. A gentle tug on the mane made Candy 
bow her neck, snort, and back up several steps. When she reared up, pawing, Hank 
almost leapt forward, until he realized Cassie had engineered that trick too. 
She kept her balance, grinning, waving an imaginary hat at the imaginary rodeo 
crowd watching, queen of all she surveyed.

Show over, Cassie let Candy amble back towards the trees, and Hank walked 
forward to meet them. "My girl of the golden West," he murmured, reaching up. He 
put his hands at Cassie's waist and she leaned forward, hands on his shoulders, 
to slide with supple ease into his arms. They kissed until Candy's inquisitive 
snuff in their ears broke the mood.

Time passed as Cassie quietly reminisced, and neither mentioned the deadline 
that had been imposed on them. Eventually it was Cassie who gave her old friend 
one last teary-eyed hug, and turned back towards the house and yard. "Thanks for 
agreeing to come here, Hank," she said, putting an arm around his waist. "I know 
it wasn't much fun for you."

"I feel highly privileged to have met Candy--and your grandmother," he hastily 
added. It made her laugh, and he relaxed.

"It just seemed like...something I needed to do. Since I'm moving away." Hank 
automatically analyzed her word choice, and detected the implication that she 
expected the move to be of a significant duration. This gave him extreme 
satisfaction.

"Saying goodbye to your childhood," he commented lightly. The wide-eyed gaze she 
instantly turned on him told him he was correct in this guess too.

"Yes, that's it..." When she read in his face that he wasn't mocking her, she 
sighed in contentment and leaned her head against his chest.

"I've got a few trinkets packed away myself. I'll show them to you one day," 
Hank promised. "Though they don't compare to your Candy for magnificence."

"You should have seen her in her prime. People were always asking to buy her, 
horse show people," Cassie bragged wistfully.

"Are their pictures of the two of you at your parents' house?"

This brought a peal of laughter. "Oh, yes, ASK my mother to get out the pictures 
of me! I thought you wanted to leave sometime THIS week!"

"That bad, eh?" Hank responded, smiling broadly, as they went through the gate. 
He thought he might risk it all the same.

They were headed towards the house to bid goodbye to Viola when Vic called out 
to them from the barn. Hank felt Cassie's body tense as her cousin approached, 
and he reminded himself again that he was NOT going to SAY anything. Well, not 
unless VIC said something really uncalled for....

"Been thinkin', Cass," Vic began, kicking at the ground as if suddenly thinking 
it needed leveling in that particular spot. "Mom's gonna have a fit or a spell 
or somethin' if ya don't stay for dinner at least."

Hank raised one eyebrow, and looked down at Cassie, whose face was schooled into 
a completely neutral expression. "And Louise is going to have one if we do."

"Oh, well, Lou'll get over it, I expect," Vic muttered. Somehow, though he was 
still sifting dust with one boot, he conveyed the impression he was in favor of 
that outcome. "And if she's gonna hafta get used to the idea sooner or later, 
she may's well start today....

He raised his eyes to Cassie as he said this, studying her, and nodded knowingly 
when an involuntary blush began to color her cheeks.

Vic switched his gaze to Hank, who wondered what his own expression might be 
revealing. "Tell ya somethin' about the squirt, 'case ya don't already know it. 
When she's right, she's right." Cautiously, feeling his way, Hank nodded to 
admit this confirmed his own suspicions, and Vic at last grinned in a way that 
showed why Cassie had such fond regard for the man.

"Tell ya somethin' else," he said as they all headed for the kitchen, where, if 
Hank recalled correctly, there was still quite a bit of pie left uneaten. "Mom's 
pretty much expecting you two to spend the night."

"Ummm," Cassie said instantly.

"Cassie, you get the daybed in her room so Hank can have the guest room...."

"Oh, Viiic! GEEZ!" Cassie protested as Hank began casting about for excuses as 
to why they REALLY ought to get on the road quite soon.

Vic just laughed. "If you're REAL nice, maybe we'll get around and go into town 
after Mom and the kids are in bed." He added persuasively, "The Wagon Wheel has 
one o' them karaoke things now."

This brought Cassie's objections to an abrupt halt. "Really?" she asked, and 
Hank clapped a hand to his forehead in comic despair, knowing his fate was 
sealed.

"Hey, look, there comes the school bus." Vic looked Hank up and down again. "I 
hafta admit, I can't wait to see the kids' faces when they meet you," he 
confessed, with an unruly grin Hank was coming to know for a family trait.

"I'M kind of looking forward to Louise's," Cassie said, with a hint of 
challenge.

If that offended him at all, he didn't let on. "This is gonna be quite a night, 
I can tell already," was Vic's succinct assessment. His voice softened. "And I 
wouldn't have it any other way. Good to have you here, Squirt," he said 
belatedly. This time his nod at Hank was unmistakably friendly. "You too, Hank." 
And on that note, the three of them went companionably to meet the children 
dashing down the lane.


Susan the Neon Nurse
(Susan Crites/CRITESS) Email to carosue@iguana.ruralnet.net


INFO, ETC.

There is also a mailing list for people who want to get new chapters ASAP. Be 
warned--you sometimes get odd extra mailings as well, when the spirit moves 
me....

Disclaimer: Since I am a) inserting a new character and b) not privy to any of 
Marvel's editorial decisions, this story is forced to be an alternate universe. 
It is similar to the 'real' one when it works out, plotwise, okay? And I DO make 
mistakes sometimes, I know. Such is life.

"I love you more than ponies; I love you more than stars!" Crites family 
endearment.


-----------
Neon Hearts Part 24. For those of you who have been hinting around that this has 
sure been a long vacation, well, this chapter wraps it up! Special thanks to 
Chris Fisher, La Reina Pescadora, for helping me shop! Note: The shop in this 
story no longer exists in our universe. It appears via a convenient 
cross-temporal loop for your edification and amusement....

Marvel copyright valid world wide. Prices slightly higher in Canada.


PART 24


"Have I mentioned before that you have magnificent thighs?"

Hank only gave a startled laugh. A lesser man, not gifted with his amazing 
control, would no doubt have at least veered slightly into the next lane of the 
highway. "No, I don't believe you have," he replied, smiling at Cassie with fond 
indulgence as he recovered his composure. So the bermuda shorts WERE the right 
choice. "But please feel free to do so any time the inclination strikes you." 
All she did was beam at him with even more giddy intensity. "Was that remark 
brought on by anything in particular?"

Cassie looked supremely content, sprawled sideways in the seat as much as the 
seat belt would allow, one arm hanging over the back, gazing at him instead of 
what passed for scenery in this somewhat less than spectacular section of 
Colorado. "Oh, no. Just my keen powers of observation. A writerly trait, you 
know."

The expression on her face was enough to make him mentally calculate the miles 
to the next decent motel. But Hank merely smiled back and returned most of his 
attention to driving. They were due back in Denver today to begin packing her 
things. First things first.

Her unpredictability was one of the things about Cassie that intrigued him. It 
was strange, he had to admit, that there should be such a strong variance 
between her outgoing side, which he was being treated to more and more often, 
and the shy reserve that could surge into near-hysteria at the wrong stimulus. 
But the balance was definitely tipping. He tended to think it could be tipped 
quite a bit further with the continued application of support and encouragement. 
Maybe that belief was merely his desire to mend things expressing itself...but 
was that a BAD thing to want? To see her become secure and whole again?

"I'm kind of looking forward to going home with you...but kind of sorry our 
vacation is over, too." Cassie cradled her head in the hand that had been 
hanging over the back of the seat, still watching to gauge his response to her 
words. "I guess it's selfish to like having you all to myself."

"I intend to make VERY sure," Hank told her with fervor, "that we have a GREAT 
deal of private time together." He reached out to pat her knee. "There are 
plenty of scenic places on the Eastern seaboard for us to tour on a day...and 
night...out."

"And no relatives while we do it," Cassie suggested, wincing in apology for what 
she had just recently subjected Hank to.

"I have liked everyone of the relatives you introduced to me thus far," he said 
gallantly, then amended, "the blood relatives, anyway." Cassie snorted. "And 
even Louise seemed to be warming up to me last night."

"After a couple of margaritas, Louise would warm up to Newt Gingrich. No, 
scratch that, she probably already approves of HIM. Bill Clinton, then."

Hank guffawed. "I'm trying to picture her dancing that 'Cotton-eyed Joe' with 
the President."

"You did great," Cassie assured him, though the way her lips twitched told him 
she was at least partly prevaricating to spare his feelings.

"I am sure it was an event that will go down in local history," he said with 
solemn sarcasm, and Cassie threw her head back, laughing.

Hank was quite glad she was returning home with him as well. The greatest part 
of that feeling was simply gratification that he would not be deprived of her 
company. But almost as satisfactory was his belief that it meant she was safe 
from being lured into the poorly thought out therapy session her ex-husband's 
naive therapist had proposed. They had not discussed it, not actually resolved 
the matter...but she was safer from guilt-induced temptation in New York, with 
him.

They were approaching another of the isolated towns on Highway 50. 'Manzanola', 
the sign read. "Isn't this where that store was?" Cassie asked lazily.

While on their way to the visit with her family, they had passed an extremely 
bizarre shop. The first thing to catch Hank's eye had been a pair of mannequin 
legs wearing faded purple knees socks protruding from a fish tank perched on a 
wooden cable spool, which sat amidst a tumble of eclectic miscellanea apparently 
too unusual or ramshackle to be worth the bother of toting inside each night. It 
had been far too early to expect the shop, engagingly and appropriately named 
'The Odd Ends Here', to be open for business. But as it was mid-morning now....

Sure enough, they soon spotted the store--hard to miss, really--and Hank turned 
into the rutted parking area. At least, one assumed the empty spaces between 
piles of firewood and mysterious automotive parts were intended for customers' 
vehicles. Moving slowly, so as to be able to check out the incredible flotsam 
tucked between old washing machines and pieces of farm equipment, they made 
their way to the screen door which declared, "Rainbow is GOOD bread" in fading 
painted letters.

The inside of the store was equally jammed, but here it was all deftly arranged 
to allow patrons to browse without too much danger to the stock. Amid the usual 
antique store displays of colored glass, dark old furniture and quilts there 
were also old advertising signs, a huge mounted sailfish and numerous objects 
unidentifiable at first, or even second, glance. "Look, a hypnotist's wheel," 
Cassie said, spinning the disk to make the black and white spiral turn 
dizzyingly.

"Too late, already in your power," Hank murmured, brushing his fingers along the 
back of her arm, which made her duck her head and give him an erotically unruly 
look from under her wispy bangs. They pressed on. "Isn't this the same table and 
chairs as your grandmother has in her kitchen?"

"Yes, it is!" Cassie looked at the price tag and gasped. "Four hundred dollars? 
For THAT?"

"And a bargain--those old dinette sets are hot right now!" The store's 
proprietor had come up silently behind them, a skinny, partially bald man with 
manic dark eyes. "Say, you're a mutant, aren't you?" Before Hank could reply, he 
continued, "We don't get many mutants in here." The man waited expectantly for 
half a beat. "Hey, you missed your cue! You're supposed to say, 'At these 
prices, no wonder!'"

"I didn't realize you were a purveyor of antique jokes as well," Hank replied 
with one eyebrow lowered, intending it as a reproof.

But the store owner brayed laughter. "Hey, you're all right! Listen--look 
around. I'll be in the back dying."

"Excuse me?" Hank blurted, knowing that he MUST have heard wrong.

"I'm making rag rugs. Dyeing some cloth I thought was too boring." The man all 
but danced as he nodded his goodbye. "There's stuff upstairs too, and out back. 
Don't fall in the fishpond." With that warning, he bustled away.

Cassie and Hank shrugged at each other, grinning with involuntary amusement. "We 
are going to HAVE to buy something as a conversation piece, just so we can tell 
people we were here," Cassie said.

Temptations were easy to come by. "Look at this," Hank suggested.

"What is it?" The object in question was almost head height on her, an amazing 
concoction of brass filigree and gilded green enamel; its heavily decorated base 
supporting a pole of tangled art deco vines. Wired to the horizontal bar at the 
top was the body of a goose which had obviously been the victim of a home 
taxidermy project. It was the plastic Woody Woodpecker head that gave the game 
away.

"I believe...it's a parrot stand," Hank mused, eyes agleam. "And I also believe 
we need it desperately."

Cassie took this in stride. "But do we need the bird too?"

"No."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

*          *          *

"There's Hank," said the tall, muscular woman, rising gracefully from her seat 
in the concourse's waiting area. "Lord, what's that he's totin'?"

"Is that her?" inquired the young blond man beside her, rising as well and 
waving in the general direction of those they had been sent to fetch home from 
the airport. Hank, disguised by his image inducer, was solicitously guiding a 
slender blonde, who was maintaining a discreet but still noticeable deathgrip on 
his forearm. He was also using that arm to carry something metallic and 
strange-looking at a forward tilt, like the world's gaudiest lance. There was a 
large parcel under his other arm as well.

"Mus' be, if she's with Hank, doncha think?" Rogue replied, shaking her head 
with mock disgust at Bobby's obtuseness. "You remember, now, the professor said 
be nice!"

"I'm always nice," Bobby protested, as the two couples drew near to each other. 
"If she can put up with Hank, I'M not going to bother--" He broke off once they 
were within earshot. "Hank, old buddy! 'Bout time you got your tail home! Taking 
off on vacation like--like you were ME or something!"

"Good to see you both," Hank said, with a wide grin. The three teammates all 
understood Bobby was pretending his recent road trip with Rogue was his own 
idea. In fact, it had been Rogue who had bolted from the group some weeks past, 
with Bobby tagging along in desperate concern for her mental health. One of the 
many things Hank was looking forward to being caught up on....

It took only a few moments to go through the mutual introductions. Hank happily 
handed the parcel he was carrying over to Rogue, who propped it casually on her 
hip. Cassie, knowing exactly how much it weighed, was quietly impressed.

"What IS that?" Bobby demanded, as they began the long trek to the baggage claim 
area, referring to the garish piece of metalwork Hank was still holding.

"It began as a mildly amusing joke that quickly metamorphosized into a 
tremendous pain in the nether regions." Hank fixed the object with a baleful 
gaze tempered by a half-smile.

"AH thought it looked like a parrot stand," said Rogue doubtfully. It was 
sometimes hard to understand Beast's jokes, or even whether some of his 
pronouncements were intended to BE jokes.

"It is." Hank shook his head in only half-pretended irritation. "I bought it for 
Warren, but I may end up keeping it myself, having grown attached to it with a 
masochistic sort of fondness." He rubbed the back of his head, which for some 
reason made his travelling companion laugh, although she immediately looked 
contrite. "I might even buy a parrot."

"He got bumped by it a few times. It was my fault," Cassie said, and her 
apologetic tone seemed to apply to both causing the accident in question and 
speaking out at all. Hank's encouraging smile emboldened her to continue with 
more animation. "Once because it slipped from where I loaded it in our car--and 
another time we did one of those old time comedy movie routines...." She mimed 
the turning around and catching someone unawares with a few quick half-steps, 
and Bobby chortled. "And THEN we couldn't find anything to pack it in, so we had 
to ask if we could carry it on the plane...."

"The security people didn't like it," Hank said, taking up the tale. "I ask you, 
does it even remotely resemble an explosive device?"

"No, t'me it definitely looks like a parrot stand," Rogue averred.

"But they finally said we could take it. I think they felt silly about the 
chocolates." Cassie looked to Hank for confirmation of her theory, brushing her 
hand on his sleeve.

"The chocolates?" Rogue hefted the package she held in a question.

"We bought them at the last minute, at the airport in Denver," Cassie explained. 
She was relaxing a little more with each sentence.

"They made us unwrap the package and send the boxes through the scanner one at a 
time," Hank said with some indignance. There were ten five pound boxes; he had 
not wanted anyone to feel left out during the gift giving ceremony if there were 
visitors at the mansion. "This was during the wait for the explosives-detecting 
dog they had called for to sniff the parrot stand."

"So ALL these people were STARING as they went by to board THEIR planes, and 
everyone could see Hank was getting very annoyed," Cassie added. She mimed the 
stares of the passers-by quite accurately, and even Rogue laughed this time.

"Perhaps not ANNOYED. Just somewhat irritated," Hank murmured, enjoying the 
recitation now the ordeal was over and done with.

"And we BARELY had time to board our plane," Cassie finished breathlessly, "and 
they put the parrot stand in a cupboard thing, wrapped in Hank's coat...and when 
the flight attendant got it out to give it to us, someone bumped her and--" She 
paused, looking expectantly at Hank.

"And I got hit in the head AGAIN." There was a brief pause while everyone waited 
for Bobby to control his laughter and get up off the floor. "That's why *I* am 
going to carry it the rest of the way home," Hank finished with as much dignity 
as he could muster.

Rogue and Bobby filled Hank in, with varying degrees of coded remarks, on the 
events he had missed while he was away as they gathered the couple's luggage and 
stowed it in the trunk of the late-model Buick the team used for over-the-road 
personnel transport. Cassie merely smiled vaguely and stood very close to Hank 
during this process. The back seat had a seat belt in the center, and she took 
this spot when they all climbed in, making no effort at all to disguise her 
desire to sit as close as possible to her protector. The parrot stand was 
wrestled in and fastened down with the left-over seat belt without further 
injury to Hank.

After a brief argument, Rogue took the wheel. Bobby, who seemed as unconcerned 
about seat belts as anything else pertaining to his personal safety, leaned over 
the back of the front seat, a wicked gleam in his eye. 'Bobby is the one 
inclined to tease,' Cassie recalled from Hank's briefings, and slapped a smile 
on her face.

"So how did you two meet?" he asked. An innocent enough question. Cassie, after 
a glance at Hank's serene expression, told a quick but mildly amusing version of 
how they had become acquainted.

"You took one look at our big blue buddy and decided you wanted to... get to 
know him?" Bobby queried suggestively, one eyebrow cocked almost into his blond 
forelock.

"That's not QUITE it," Cassie demurred. "He just...he looked like an okay guy 
who needed a quarter. From his body language?"

"OOOooh, so you liked his BODY language?" Bobby said with an insinuating leer.

Cassie glanced at Hank again, checking his reaction. He was shaking his head, 
but grinning, and her momentary tension evaporated. "I like everything about 
him," she admitted shyly.

Bobby gleefully opened his mouth to reply to that wonderful opportunity, and 
Rogue thumped him in the ribs. "OW! What'd I say? I didn't say anything!"

"Nope!" she agreed with a deceptively placid smile. The little tale seemed 
appropriately romantic to her, and she wasn't about to let Bobby ruin it.

Cassie bit her lower lip, worried by the possibility of an argument springing 
from what had started out as harmless teasing. But, to his credit, Bobby could 
change his tack, from pest to kindly friend, as quickly as he could switch his 
power modes. The anxious look on her face made him say, "Don't worry! Everybody 
seems to feel like they get to take turns squelching me--it's an X-men 
tradition."

"One a' these days we'll make a model citizen of ya," Rogue agreed, meeting 
Cassie's eyes via the rearview mirror and giving her an encouraging wink.

"I HOPE I live long enough to see that," Hank murmured, and draped his arm 
around Cassie, so casually that the two in the front seat had no idea he was 
doing it to bolster her courage. "By the way, how many of us are in attendance 
at the mansion right now?" he asked, adroitly changing the subject.

As Rogue and Bobby began to, between them, name off the roster of those present, 
Cassie snuggled in under Hank's arm. 'It really is going to be all right,' she 
scolded herself. 'You met most of these people before; they're all perfectly 
nice. Once you get to know everyone, you're going to feel silly that you were 
scared of them at first....'

Gradually her internalized pep talk worked. By the time they pulled up to the 
gates of the mansion, Cassie had actually managed to achieve a sense of cautious 
optimism. She was holding Hank's hand more for pleasure than support as she 
marched bravely into what she hoped would be her new home.


Susan the Neon Nurse
(Susan Crites/CRITESS) Email to carosue@iguana.ruralnet.net


INFO, ETC.


There is also a mailing list for people who want to get new chapters ASAP. Be 
warned--you sometimes get odd extra mailings as well, when the spirit moves 
me....

Disclaimer: Since I am a) inserting a new character and b) not privy to any of 
Marvel's editorial decisions, this story is forced to be an alternate universe. 
It is similar to the 'real' one when it works out, plotwise, okay? And I DO make 
mistakes sometimes, I know. Such is life.

"Fate determines who comes into our life; our attitude and actions determine who 
stays in our lives." Javan