Title: Trick-or-Treating Without Marie
Author: Terri
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I only own the zombie and the ghost. The rest are Marvel's, darn it.
Archive: Dolphin Haven, Peep Hut – anyone else, please ask ;)
Feedback: Please? With some candy on top? Good, bad, and ugly welcome…….
Summary: Sequel to Dining Out With Marie. This time, Marie's not along for the ride.
Comments: This is a part of the With Marie series, but it's a little departure. We've jumped ahead a bit in time, and our early-developing mutant kids are a little older this time around ;) Thanks to tinhutlady for the inspiration for Hank's costume – I was totally blocked on what
he should go as, and then her fabulous image of Hank as Sully from Monsters, Inc. broke
the dam :)

There were many reasons for that – not the least of which was that Logan, Marie's husband, had a tendency to be almost pathologically protective of their children and Lord knows, if Hank were to bring them back with so much as a hangnail, he'd be in for dark looks from the man for weeks. Anything more severe than that would likely be greeted with a claw or three. Hank understood – it was common knowledge that the main reason Logan had agreed to give part of his land for Xavier's North and teach self-defense at the school was the protection it provided against the Brotherhood's ill-advised but often-demonstrated penchant for attacking his family. Still, it did cause trepidation when the children were in one's care, even when Logan was also there in person, watching over them. To Hank's knowledge, Logan had never let anyone other than Marie take the kids anywhere – tonight was a first, and so while it was an honor, it was especially daunting.

Hank had reasons of his own, though, to be nervous about this little excursion. He hated going out in public, and had only once strayed from the school grounds since he'd been there. That had also been at Marie's insistence, and, while he'd enjoyed having lunch at the local diner with her and though the stares and muttered comments were a milder reaction than he usually got, it had still felt very unpleasant to him. From then on, he'd politely declined any other well-intentioned invitations.

But somehow she'd convinced him to do this, and Hank admired the reasoning behind it – Halloween was the one night of the year that people were likely to not so much as give him a passing glance. He could walk around in the town freely, and without fear of attack or disparagement, looking simply like himself. He liked the idea, and, when the kids looked up at him with hopeful eyes upon hearing it, he'd agreed.

But, of course, when four-year-old Sam and Nat were involved, nothing was quite that easy. Nat had some ideas of her own about how their evening would go. She'd insisted that Hank wear a costume of some sort, and, after much argument at a rather loud volume punctuated occasionally by foot-stomping fits, he'd acceded to little Nat's demand. Hoping to avoid further temper tantrums, and, perhaps, hoping to also find a way out of doing as she wanted, he asked for her guidance as to what kind of costume he should wear. Nat was stumped, but Sam had an idea, which he characteristically expressed in the least number of words possible. He simply said, "Sully."

To be honest, Hank had quite a soft spot for Sam. When Hank first arrived, Marie had explained the child's touch-telepathy mutation and wondered if Hank might be willing to experiment to see if it still worked on fur.   Never able to resist the allure of a good experiment, Hank let the small boy curiously but wordlessly roam his face and arms and legs to his heart's content. When it began to become clear that Sam couldn't read Hank as much through the fur – as was evidenced by his increasing chatter to Hank – Marie cried more than a few tears of joy. Hank didn't really get it then, but now he realized that, just as she hungered for people she could safely touch, so must Sam.   His fur blunted the boy's mutation just enough to make the thoughts and feelings coming through manageable instead of overwhelming. Sam could pick through them and control their flow into him, instead of having an onslaught of emotion forced into his ill-equipped, child's psyche. Hank was more than happy to be one of Sam's 'safe' people, and to serve as a kind of 'uncle' to both children. He took a special pride in helping to develop Sam's still-lagging verbal skills, and his interest in the sciences. Hank admired the child's combination of intelligence and sensitivity.

In fact, Sam's suggestion of having Hank dress up as Sully from the Monsters Inc. movie was a good example of the boy's nimble mind and expansive empathy. He didn't need his telepathy to read people – actually, the boy was so adept at that that it made Hank wonder if he didn't have some kind of non-touch-reliant empathic mutation. He must've sensed not only that Hank didn't really want to go to the trouble of costuming, but also that he wanted to go out largely resembling himself. Sully would let him do both, and with minimal effort. In order to transform into the Pixar character, he'd only have to add horns and purple spots. Some painted plastic devil-horns and purple hair dye would do the trick nicely.

The suggestion met with Nat's approval and now, Hank was shepherding his two young charges along the small streets of town. It wasn't as easy as it sounded – Hank had to both curtail Nat's enthusiasm for seriously scaring the residents (she'd chosen to dress up as a zombie, complete with realistically rotted skin and bloody patches all over) and encourage Sam out of his shyness. The boy had elected to be a ghost, something Hank found sad, but something that made sense – Sam sometimes probably wanted to be invisible to the world around him and vice versa, and the sheet also had the practical advantage of covering all of his exposed skin except for his eyes, protecting him from any chance absorptions.   Hank smiled down at him as they walked along – he really was quite the practical child.

"I believe this is our last house." The children had already had a good haul – both of their buckets were filled nearly to the brim with all manner of sweets.

"Aw, Uncle Hank!" Predictably, the complaint came from Nat, but the tiny ghost by her side could also be seen giving a forlorn huff. "I can still carry lots more!" Hank grimaced, wishing that her father hadn't encouraged her to 'go out there and bring home all you can carry, kid.'

"Me too," Sam said sincerely, struggling to heft his orange pumpkin bucket upward.

"I am certain that you both could carry many more treats, but we have covered nearly every house in town. This one alone remains. Now, go on, ring the doorbell." Hank gave them each a scoot towards the porch, then followed them up. He'd noted that most parents let their children walk from the street to the porch of each home, but he was not inclined to take any chances. He wanted to be in arms-length of the children at every moment.

Nat, predictably, was usually the one to ring the doorbell. She did so, then crouched a bit, preparing to spring out and surprise the poor, hapless homeowner who answered the door. Sam, meanwhile, shuffled forward, extending his candy-filled pumpkin with both hands and putting on his best smile beneath the sheet. When the door opened to reveal a pleasant-looking thirtyish woman, Nat jumped up and shouted, "ARRRRGHHHH!"

The woman flinched back in surprise, delighting Nat to no end, but she recovered more quickly than the average homeowner had thus far, and she soon beamed down a smile at Nat. "Well, you're very scary!" she complimented.

"RRRRRR!" Nat added, for effect. The candy-toting homeowner giggled.

"I bet you've scared all of my neighbors."

"You have no idea," Hank muttered, under his breath. That drew the woman's attention, and she gave him a friendly smile.

"Are these two little goblins yours?" she asked.

"Ah, no," Hank answered. "They – "

"Hey!" Nat interrupted. "I'm a zombie, lady! Not a goblin!"

"Oh, I see," the woman smiled. "You're a very good zombie. You look just like one."

That put the smile back on Nat's face, but the child felt compelled to add, "And my brother is a ghost."

"Yes, a very good one too." Sam's eyes crinkled with a smile. "It's a classic costume. Very nice." The woman turned her attention back to Hank. "And you make quite a good Sully yourself, sir."

"He's not 'sir,'" Nat informed the lady, "He's Uncle Hank, and yep, we're his. My dad said so. He said, Hank – you take care of the little ones tonight." Nat had lapsed into her best 'Dad' imitation.

"Aha," The woman mused. "Well, I suppose you would all like some candy………" Sam eagerly nodded and extended his bucket further toward the lady. She obligingly dropped several pieces into both children's pumpkin buckets, then turned toward Hank. "Would you like some as well?"

"Ah, no, no thank you."

"Oh, come on – you deserve a treat for taking on 'uncle' duty on Halloween." While Hank fumbled for a response, the woman's eyes narrowed a bit, and she tilted her head. "You know – have we met before? You look very familiar, almost like someone I've seen around town a while ago…….."

"I do not think we are acquainted," Hank demurred.

"Really? Because I could've sworn I'd seen someone just like you at the Highway Nine Diner a while back – you're pretty unique-looking, and – "

"You must be mistaken," Hank said, beginning to hustle the children away from the door. If this woman had realized that he was not in costume, then there could be trouble, and lots of it. He knew it had been a mistake to go to the diner, to ever show himself in town. Visions of angry residents, mobbing him with fire and pitchforks, just like in the old Frankenstein movies, flashed in his mind. "We must go now."

Surprisingly, Nat shuffled toward the edge of the porch unresistingly; this time it was Sam who wasn't doing so well at listening. He shrugged Hank's large hand off of his shoulder and crept forward a few inches. "I'm – I'm sorry," the woman called, apparently confused by this turn of events. "I didn't mean to say something wrong or offend you or something."

"Sam – Sam, come here," Hank called, not wanting to grab the child, but desperate to get him safely away from the woman. Sam stood his ground, and set his candy-filled pumpkin down on the ground. Intuitively, Hank knew he was going to reach out and touch the woman, and this time, the thoughts that projected themselves in his mind weren't of a torch-wielding mob, but rather a homicidally pissed-off, claw-wielding father. "Sam!"

The woman looked increasingly puzzled as Sam reached out his small hand to touch her. When his hand came to rest on her bare arm, the one she was holding the candy bowl with, she smiled down at him and said, "Would you like another piece?" Sam nodded. The woman used her free hand to cautiously drop two more candy bars into the pumpkin that sat at his feet. "There you go."

Sam looked up at her and finally released her. Then he turned to a frozen Hank and Nat. "Safe." Hank took a deep breath, grateful for that information, but casting a reprimand at Sam with a look nonetheless. That caused his tiny ghost-head to slump downward. "Data foost."

Hank's heart squeezed when his oft-repeated counsel to junior-scientist Sam came back to him from the child's own lips – 'You cannot make an assessment without gathering the data first.' He sighed. "You are correct," he soothed, hoping to make up to the boy a bit.

"I, um – look, I'm not sure what I said wrong, or exactly, you know, what the heck is going on here, but I'm not – I just saw you in the diner a while back and remembered thinking that you must be a pretty brave guy to come into town. We're a pretty tolerant bunch around here – I mean, no one moves out to the edge of civilization because they want to be in with the in-crowd, you know? So I don't think you have to worry as much about any kind of bad reaction in these parts, but – but I thought it was pretty brave anyway." Seeing Hank's relief at her disjointed explanation, she smiled a little. "Not as brave as using permanent purple hair dye to make those spots, but still…….."

"It's permanent?" Hank asked, wide-eyed. "The box said it would wash out with six shampoos."

The woman laughed, and stepped through her doorway out onto the porch. "And I hope for your sake that that's true. I dyed my hair red once with one of those things and it took three months to get out."

"Oh my heavens." Hank felt something brush against his legs and noticed that Nat was moving to put herself between the lady and Hank, her candy set aside and forgotten. "It is all right, Nat. I – I believe your brother is correct. This lady is safe." Nat didn't budge, and Hank turned an apologetic look up to the woman. "I am sorry. It is just that these children have -–" He stopped, thinking about a graceful way to put it to her. He couldn't very well say – they've been attacked by evil mutants on several occasions and this is the first time they've ever been on their own without their super-hero parents to protect them. "They've experienced some trauma in their young lives, and I only wished to spare them the possibility of more. You are quite correct that my appearance can incite a bad response, and I did not wish to – to have them suffer that."

"I understand," she smiled. "Look, my name is Keli, and I – I'm a teacher at the school here. If you need a friend in town, please – feel free to stop by." She extended her hand to Hank, and he reached over Nat to shake it.

"Henry Philip McCoy. I, ah, am a doctor. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Nice to meet you, Uncle Hank," she teased as they shook.

"I'm Nat," the child interrupted, in a matter-of-fact tone. "My brother is Sam. And you better be nice to Uncle Hank."

"I will," Keli assured. "It's nice to meet you too."

They all stood in awkward silence for a moment. Hank broke it with, "Well, ah, thank you for your hospitality, and for the treats. We should – we should be going."

"You're welcome," Keli answered in an easy tone. "And I meant it – if you're ever in town, just ring my doorbell. I'm usually here, unless I'm at school. It was nice to meet you, Hank." She smiled her goodbyes to the children, and headed back in the house. Sam and Nat collected their candy and this time, they both let Hank herd them off of the porch.

They walked back to the SUV wordlessly, each seemingly mulling the encounter over. When Hank had both children in and buckled, he climbed in himself and started the car.

"Uncle Hank," Nat called, "Why did you think she'd be mad at you? Why don't people like you?" The question came with Nat's typical directness, a quality that Hank had learned long ago was not meant to insult. He answered with equal matter-of-factness.

"Well, sometimes people do not like me simply because I look different. Some people do not like me because I am a mutant."

"I wike you," Sam offered.

"Me too," Nat joined in. "And I don't understand why having powers or looking different makes people not like you. Why is that?"

"It does not appear to make much sense, I agree, but sometimes people are afraid of things that are different. Sometimes they do not understand that 'different' does not necessarily mean bad or dangerous."

"Stupid people," Nat grumbled. "I think everyone should like you. You're *my* Uncle Hank."

Hank smiled at her simple logic. "Well, I tend to agree. But sometimes people do not always think as rationally as you do, Nat."

"Hmph." She crossed her arms, in an excellent imitation of her father. Hank reflected that the child had so much of Logan in her – if it hadn't been for her hair and eyes, he might not see any resemblances to Marie at all.

"Keli wikes you."

"I am glad she was friendly." There was more than a little relief in those words.

"No, she wikes you."

"Ah…….."

Sam couldn't find any more words, and Hank wasn't sure what he'd been trying to say either. Nat decided to try to help the pair out. "You mean, she likes him like, not just to be nice to but to be friends with and play with and share toys?" Sam looked over at his sister and nodded enthusiastically. Nat lit up and began squealing with excitement. "Oooh! Uncle Hank! You made a new friend!"

Hank grinned. He remembered the 'talks' both Marie and Logan had had with the children about making new friends among the school's students and not just clinging to each other. Apparently, that particular message had sunk in. "I suppose so."

"Are you gonna go over and play with her tomorrow? Maybe she has cool toys! You can bring some of the toys from your lab to share with her!"

"Ah, those are not toys, Nat."

"Sure they are! You play with them, dontcha?" Hank sighed, and exchanged looks in the rear view mirror with Sam. The non-scientists in the car simply did not understand. Hank gave the boy a conspiratorial wink, and he grinned. "Besides, they're cool – she'll really like you if you show her some of that stuff! Can we come too?"

"Come where?"

"When you go over to play with her tomorrow!"

"I was not really planning on – on taking her up on her offer. I am sure she was just being polite."

Sam sighed, and tilted his head, slumping down in the seat a bit, but he said nothing. Nat looked at him and then at Hank. "Nuh-uh," she contradicted. "Sam's never wrong about people's feelings and stuff. He said she liked you. You should go play with her. Don't you wanna make new friends, Uncle Hank?"

"I – " He'd been about to retort that he preferred the company of the friends he already had, but that wouldn't reinforce the lessons their parents were trying to teach them about broadening their own horizons. When he paused to gather a more appropriate response, Sam chimed in.

"Diffwent don't always mean bad or dangerous." Hank's mouth twisted in a wry grin. He was proud of the long sentence, and the way Sam had put the idea into his own words, but he really did have to remember to watch what he said around the boy. He was so much more observant than he let on, and he obviously took Hank's words literally and to heart.

"Yeah," Nat bolstered. "'Sides, you don't know what kinda cool toys she might have – she had really good candy, the peanut butter kind!"

"I will think about it," Hank said honestly – perhaps if he ever did have cause to go into town again, he might stop by and say hello. Maybe.

"Fink a wot," Sam gently suggested. "She wikes you."

"All right," Hank acceded. "But now let us head home. I am sure your parents are anxious to see how much candy you have gathered." He turned the SUV toward the mountain road that led to the school, happy to have gotten through the evening successfully, and involuntarily taking Sam's suggestion as thoughts of the encounter replayed in his head.

Logan met the trio at the door. "Brought 'em back in one piece, didya?" he queried, looking over the children for himself even as he asked the question. Hank noticed that Logan's hair was rumpled and that his body looked slack, satisfied. There was little question as to how he and Marie had spent their first evening without the kids.

"Indeed. And with quite a bit more candy."

"Look, Dad!" Nat held up her pumpkin for inspection and Sam followed suit.

"Good job," Logan approved. "Set those on the kitchen table and then go get ready for bed."

"Aw, dad!" Nat protested.

"You heard me, kid, go on, it's late," he said kindly, and she and Sam scrambled off to their room. "Everythin' go OK?" Logan asked when the kids were out of earshot.

"Just fine," Hank assured. "We did have a bit of a brush at the last house – the woman there apparently had seen me in the diner, that time I went to lunch with Marie in town." Logan scowled at that. "But she was actually quite friendly toward me. I fear I overreacted a bit and may have given the children a start, but she did not attempt anything or – or make any insults. She was actually quite nice." Logan nodded curtly. "She even invited me to stop by when I am next in town." Logan showed some surprise at that. "Not that I would take her up on it. Not that it seems a good idea."

Logan recovered, evening out his expression again, and shrugged. "Why not? Go down and have a cuppa coffee or somethin'."

"I – I do not think that is a good idea."

Logan gave him a long, appraising look, then seemed to let it go. "Up to you." Hank nodded, and turned to go, but then remembered something.

"Logan – Sam – Sam touched this woman." The man's eyebrows shot up at that. Hank knew Logan would be extremely displeased – he zealously tried to guard Sam from being bombarded with too much input from touching others, and he was doubly protective when it came to having strangers around the boy. Still, Hank knew he needed to know, and was sure that the children would mention it to him as well. He might as well give Logan the whole story himself. "Her name is Keli. She is a schoolteacher in town and I can give you her address if you like. I was trying to get the children off of the porch, after she'd said she recognized me from the diner, and Sam just reached out for her. I – I think that he wanted to assess her for himself in light of my reaction to the situation. I am very sorry that I could not stop him in time."

"Did he get anythin' bad from her?"

"It appears not. He pronounced her 'safe' and later said that she seemed to like me. He seemed pleased that she was a candidate for a new friend of mine. I did not observe any bad effects from the touch."

"I don't like him touchin' strange people," Logan scolded, in an angry tone. "Hank, you gotta watch him – he's got just as much of a strong will as his sister when it comes right down to it. He gets his little head set on somethin', he just does it, no warnin' – he don't pitch a fit first, like Nat. You gotta watch him, Hank."

"I know. I am sorry," Hank apologized sincerely. "Please also extend my apologies to Marie."

At the mention of his wife's name, Logan seemed to ratchet down a notch. "Look - don't beat yourself up over it. Just – I don't like him touchin' strange people, even if nothin' bad comes outta it, you know?"

"I understand." Hank gave him another apologetic look, and turned to go.

"Hey – " Logan caught him by the shoulder. "You're good with 'em. I know they both like ya a lot. I just – I wanna protect 'em, you know? And I don't want Sam to have to deal with any shit in his head. I've seen enough of that to last me a lifetime with Marie. He's little and he don't need that shit, that's all. It turned out OK this time, but – "

"I understand," Hank repeated softly, without turning around. "It will not happen again." Logan released his grasp, and watched Hank go. He hadn't meant to be hard on the man – Lord knows the kids did love the heck out of their Uncle Hank, and somewhere in his rational mind, Logan knew that he couldn't protect the kids from everything for the rest of their lives. He sighed. He could go after Hank, try to make sure he was OK, but Marie was really so much better at that kind of thing. Maybe tomorrow, she could bring the kids to his lab and smooth it over. Yeah, Logan thought, that would be better. He gave the closed door one parting glance, then headed to put the kids to bed.