[Test Scene - Hank - Kitty's Required Medical Exam upon Returning to the X-Men]

[just_a_phase]

She doesn't want to do this.

Mostly because she knows Hank will find evidence of--don't think about that.

But she'd rather do it on her own terms than have Hank drag her in because she's put it off too long.

She refuses to let herself take a deep breath.

"Hank?"

Comments

[lexiphanic]

Hank turns away to allow Kitty some privacy as she disrobes, though his ears twitch around when she speaks. When he turns back, he's wearing gloves, flexing his fingers in them to get them comfortable, but his hands fall to his side when he sees what she's showing him.

Hank's eyes narrow and his brow creases deeply. It's a combination of shock, disbelief--she's hid this!?--sympathy, and anger all at once. Whatever he's looking at right now, this was no accident.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, relaxing his face through sheer force of will. Nothing he's feeling right now will help Kitty. It's not a full retreat into the sterile territory of the purely clinical, but he can't get overwhelmed, either.

She's just so young.

He uses a foot to draw a stool over, sitting rather than looming by the side of the table. "Those are not new. When did this happen?" A lateral approach. When, how. Then will come who.

[just_a_phase]

Kitty smiles without any amusement or happiness, but only briefly.

"No. They're not new."

Without thinking, she pulls her legs up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, chins on her knees.

"Remember when Piotr and I went to Genosha, after the whole Twelve...thing? It happened then. We weren't...exactly on vacation the whole time we were gone."

Kitty looks down.

"Never tell him I told you about this."

(Later, when they're together, she'll have to figure out the best time to tell Piotr about this--once it even occurs to her. But that's later.)

"There's another thing you probably want to make a note about, too, but it's...really less important than this. And one thing at a time, I guess."

She refuses to let her voice become any quieter.

[lexiphanic]

Hank nods as she speaks, letting her curl up as much as she needs to. He's seen what he requires--specifically, that the scars mean the injuries are old and have healed, though any underlying damage will have to be assessed later. For now, it's more important by far to let her speak.

"Anything you tell me right now is privileged, but even were it not, please understand that your privacy is inviolable to me on a personal level as well. Nothing you divulge will leave these walls. Especially considering the nature of this conversation, because I will require elaboration. Only to the extent that is medically relevant, though I cannot urge you enough to speak about this to someone. If not to Piotr, then whoever you feel most comfortable, but to have been carrying this for so long is a burden you should liberate yourself from before returning to the field. This is my professional opinion but also my belief as your friend. Now," and here he flicks his fingers over his tablet again, electing to simply record her voice rather than attempt to transcribe while she's speaking.

"What happened?"

[just_a_phase]

After a few moments Kitty shakes her head.

"No. You just get the relevant health information only." There's a note in her voice that lets him know that there's a lot more to what happened than what she's going to tell him.

"I--he and I were kidnapped. My dad," she says evenly (and a little distantly), "helped the group who took us arrange things so it was easy to grab us. Piotr's sperm was used with my eggs to create three embryos with which I was implanted."

And several more, but--only things relevant to her health.

"There were three because they were trying to increase the speed of the pregnancy. The result was I miscarried all three." She's silent for a moment. "A new doctor took over my care after the second miscarriage. I might not have lost the third--except during that pregnancy we were able to escape. And I'm fairly certain women aren't meant to have pregnancies so close together. I was injected with several different things. I'm sure some were hormones. I was not allowed to rest very long between a miscarriage and being impregnated again."

Kitty then clears her throat and her voice becomes less distant as she says, "I believe those are the relevent health details." She clears her throat one more time. "I would like to know if I still have my ovaries, and/or if I have any eggs still. Please."

She has to be controlled or she'll break down.

[lexiphanic]

Hank nods again, not pressing for further information. He's not completely incapable of helping to manage the minefield that is the human (or mutant) mind and spirit, but this is most certainly a case left in more delicate hands than his. If Kitty prefers to stay to the narrow path of what will get her field clearance, his job is to be with her through that much.

That doesn't mean the comment concerning her father goes unnoticed. It's simply unremarked upon. Her further description is met with an equally neutral expression, but inside Hank is baffled and incensed. Increase the speed of pregnancy? Human (or mutant) gestation is fixed for a reason and increased the number of embryos might result in a faster birth but the infants would still lack the necessary prenatal development. Disgusting in addition to being misguided, never mind the complications that could arise from a mutant with Kitty's particular abilities getting pregnant. The entire thing is horrifying.

"They are not. The minimum would be three weeks but even that is incredibly fast. Your body needs time to recover, people are not--" Hank cuts himself off, simply shaking his head. This is not what she needs to hear right now and he knows that. There will be time to deal with his own reactions later on. Kitty has asked to keep this clinical. That is his primary obligation.

"Thank you for being so forthcoming. The most effective way to make those determinations is via a transvaginal ultrasound, however given the circumstances," specifically his lack of knowledge with respect to what exactly the procedures she endured entailed where violations were concerned, "a standard abdominal ultrasound will certainly at the very least allow us to confirm the presence of your ovaries, if not precisely your capacity for fertility."

[just_a_phase]

"It was less than three weeks with the first doctor," she says quietly, deliberately not saying how much less than three weeks it actually was. "The second doctor wanted to wait longer, but was forced to implant the third embryo about four and a half weeks after the second miscarriage."

He doesn't need to know, of course. He cut himself off for a reason.

But she can't tell him the vast majority of what happened. This she can.

It's a strange sort of comfort to be able to do so.

She listens silently to what he then says; a moment passes when he's done before she clears her throat and meets his gaze, smiling crookedly.

"Show me a woman who enjoys transvaginal ultrasounds and I'll show you either a liar or a masochist," Kitty says wryly. "...I need to know, Hank. It's been years. I need to know. I'd rather just get it over with. Because if not, I--"

Kitty looks away from him before whispering, "They made other embryos. I need to find them anyway, find out what was done to--with--them. But if I can't--"

She shakes her head for a few seconds before just saying again, "I need to know," as she focuses her gaze on his eyes again.

"So let's get this damned procedure done with, okay?"

[lexiphanic]

He cut himself off out of concern for her. It's not even that he particularly wants to know--he is not that curious sort of a cat--but rather that some part of him wants Kitty to relieve herself of what she's carrying. It won't be to him, though, and it won't be right now, and so, he moves on.

His glance at her is a little dry when she replies. "It's an invasive procedure; I simply didn't want to subject you to any more anxiety than was absolutely necessary, but it is the most accurate way to determine the answers to your questions. Rest assured, any doctor who claims to enjoy it is a liar or a pervert."

He gentles his expression when she meets his eyes, though. "Then you will know. Finish disrobing, and try to relax." Hank stands, nudging the stool out of the way and stepping away to allow her some privacy while he retrieves the necessary equipment.

[just_a_phase]

"I've had it done, Hank," and her voice is oddly gentle. "Six month is a long time, and they were pretty interested in anything to do with my reproductive health, y'know? I can deal. It's not--"

She's silent for a moment before continuing slowly, choosing her words with care--to get them right--instead of trusting whatever comes out of her mouth the way she normally does.

"I can stand any procedue," Kitty says honestly.

Well, except for one involving powder only found in the Savage Land--but a medical procedure it definitely was not.

"It's the people who did it that I can't. But the rest is just medicine. And you're one of the very fe--actually, you're the only doctor I trust, other than Moira. This isn't a big deal."

She stands to finish undressing as he steps away.

"--Oh, hey. Other thing I said my file needs updated with, the less important one--well, less important, but related, I guess. I said my dad was the one who helped them grab us...for a reason. When I was in Chicago, Mom slipped up and accidentally confirmed something I've wondered about for a while. Carmen Pryde apparently was my dad, but not...so much my father. She isn't saying more and is pretty much avoiding contact with me because she knows I want to know. And she ain't talking."

Here's the thing:

It needs to be mentioned. But it's mentioned now because she's nervous. Not about the procedure--she was honest when she said she could handle it.

It's the results that have Kitty telling that to Hank now rather than later.

The problem is that with the way her brain works, just talking to Hank about this fact and wondering again who the mystery man who helped make her is...aren't anywhere near enough to distract her or to take up her thoughts so she can't worry about the results.

Not even close.

...She hates her brain sometimes. Not often. But sometimes.

Now being one of them.