Hank found himself in a simply-furnished living room of an upper middle-class home. The Stryker home. He hated visiting people's homes. He was always afraid of shedding on their furniture. He was seated on a couch next to William Stryker. His daughter-in-law, Mrs. Mary Stryker was sitting on a chair next to the couch. Hank observed that she had a pained expression on her face and seemed as if she was under a great deal of stress. She was constantly wringing her hands. He wondered if it was the stress of the unknown with her husband at war, or was the child really stressing her out that much? Her brow was furrowed, as if she was never allowed to let it relax for one moment. She was likely only a little over thirty, but her lined face and silver-flecked hair showed a woman growing old before her time.
William cleared his throat. "Thank you, Dr. McCoy, for agreeing to come. I wanted you to speak with the boy's mother before you met with him so you have a better understanding of our concerns. Mary, Dr. McCoy works at a place where they may possibly help children such as Jason."
"Dr. McCoy, I'm willing to do anything to help, especially with my husband away in Vietnam," she said, twisting her wedding ring around her finger.
"So what is it that Jason does? It seems to cause you a great deal of stress?"
Mary choked up, "He gives us... images. Tricks our minds. He makes us see things. Sometimes they're pleasant, but oftentimes they're horrible images. Just... horrible."
Hank leaned forward, interested. He wished Charles was here for this. "I see."
William handed Mary a handkerchief. She blew her nose loudly. "My son, Bill, was a scientist before he was sent over" he explained. "He did some research on what may have caused Jason's problem and saw that it was mutation. Jason's only eight years old, but he's smart, like his dad. He knows what genetics are and how they work. He blames his parents for his... strangeness."
Mary nodded and cried, "Dr. McCoy, this... Charles Xavier that William mentioned, can he fix Jason?"
Hank shook his head, "You can't fix mutation, but he can help Jason control it, not let it control him. Jason will always be who he is, it's just a matter of him knowing how to use what he can do."
William stood up. "I'll have you meet the boy." He left the room.
Mary took advantage of William's brief absence and poured her heart out. "Dr. McCoy, you have no idea what it's been like! My whole life is devoted to Jason! I can't have him around other kids because he taunts them with these illusions! He's been pulled out of school because the other children are so scared of him that they beat him. They do, they beat my poor little boy!"
Hank reached over and touched her shoulder as she sobbed. "We are going to do our best. Professor and Mrs. Xavier opened their school for people just like Jason, to give them a place to feel safe. He will be safe with us."
"Thank you, Dr. McCoy. For a mutant, you're a good person," she said thankfully.
Hank balked at the back-handed compliment. "Thank you, Mrs. Stryker. That's what the school tries to do as well, show that we're not people to be feared, we're just different."
William returned with a small, scrawny boy who was eight but appeared to be no older than six. Hank had never seen such a scrawny child at that age. The boy was wearing a dirty white T-shirt and Hank noticed that it was backwards, its tag sticking out and rubbing a red mark on the boy's slim neck. There were multiple stains down the front. Hank couldn't identify them, but he was relieved that none appeared to be blood. Clearly they were keeping him inside the house, where he wouldn't be beaten. The child's reddish-brown hair appeared as if it had not been combed in weeks. The strands were matted and sticking up as if they were glued in place by sweat and dandruff. His blue jeans were soiled at the knees and along the fronts of the legs, as if he would wipe his hands on his clothes rather than use a napkin. The boy was so pale that Hank wondered when the last time was that the child had been outside in the sun. His cheeks were hollow, making his eyes appear larger than they really were, and he had stains on his lip, as if whatever juice he drank decided to stay on his chapped lips. The boy looked and smelled as if he had not had a proper bath in weeks, and it seemed as if his mother and grandfather had given up trying to give the boy a good scrubbing. He was sure the sight of the boy would break Jane's heart. It was the boy's eyes that Hank noticed. The boy had one blue eye and one brown eye. Heterochromia, Hank realized. That was likely the least of the boy's mutations.
He tried to hide his horror at the boy's state. He tried to view him as Jane would, as Charles would: As a child in need of a safe place. "Jason," he asked, greeting the boy, "how would you like to go to a school where there are other children just like you-where people will appreciate what you can do?"
Jason smiled and nodded.
Mary and William seemed elated, as if Hank had lifted a burden from their shoulders. He wondered what load he was unknowingly throwing on to Charles and Jane. He knew Jane would simply say they created the school for boys just like Jason. Hank looked at the boy and wondered if he should try to get him to take a bath before he left. He decided not to. Jane, after all, was a born caretaker, a nurse. Surely, she had seen worse than this, and she would be able to manage to give the boy a good scrubbing.
He thought to himself how Jane and Charles wouldhave to forgive him as William and Mary eagerly packed the boy's few belongingsand arranged for Hank to take the boy to the Xavier School for GiftedYoungsters. At least Jane would be getting ridof the boy's stench as she got him in a tub. Hank, on the other hand, would beconfined with him on a helicopter as he returned to the school.