X-Men: Beast (5/8)
Jan. 31st, 2009 11:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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prose_alchemistTitle: Beast (Chapter 5 of 8)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jordannamorgan
Archive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: Mild PG, for angst and adult situations.
Characters: Emphasis on Beast, with support from various other characters.
Setting: Mainly mid- to post-X2.
Summary: The personal journey of Henry McCoy—as a mutant, and as a man.
Disclaimer: Marvel and Fox create the characters that sell. Nora is mine, and so is Kristen, who has appeared in several of my stories.
After concluding his conversation with Charles, Hank faced the difficult task of explaining to Nora and the children that Jean Grey was gone. He gently did so, and went on to comfort the students as they mourned their beloved teacher. For him, there was at least some strange relief in this duty; it forced him to set aside his own anguished feelings.
Except when little Kristen chose to crawl into his lap and cling to his neck, heedless of his blue fur and savage countenance. In the face of that innocent trust and acceptance, Hank somehow avoided tears—but he wasn’t at all sure how he managed it.
Less than an hour after the phone call, there came a knock at the door in the familiar code. Hank started and quickly stood up, setting Kristen on her feet as he did so. Nora rose as well, and looked at him uncertainly.
“You see Ororo,” he said softly, and shook his head. “Jean was her best friend. I… I can’t add this to her burden yet.”
Perhaps it was only a convenient excuse, but it sounded reasonable enough.
Without waiting for Nora’s response, Hank turned and stepped into the dining room, where he uneasily sank onto one of the chairs at the table. His newly acute hearing detected every sound as Nora unlocked and unbolted the front door, then opened it to let Ororo and her charges into the house.
There was a painting on the dining room wall; one of the muted Renaissance landscapes Charles liked, but a mere art print, pedestrian enough to be mounted in an ordinary glass-fronted frame. It caught Hank’s eye, and he realized that its blurred reflection captured a large part of the living room beyond the doorway. With a dull pain in his heart, he watched the anxious reunions between the students who had been there the entire time, and those who had just arrived. It was a confusion of tears and embraces and voices speaking all at once, assuring each other they were alright, or asking and answering as to the welfare of the few students who remained behind at the school.
In the midst of them, Nora stood clasping Ororo’s hands in a somber greeting. Even in the glass, Hank could see the raw weariness of the dark-skinned beauty, and he hurt deeply for her. Ororo was a dear friend, and he knew her well enough to know the fragility behind her mask of regal strength.
With surprisingly little effort, he identified her voice through the high-strung chatter of the children. “Bobby and Rogue are still at the school. So is Artie. That’s all of them… except John. The Professor… he said he went with Magneto.”
Hank scowled to himself. He had always known that cinder-headed boy would be trouble.
“Where’s Hank?” Ororo asked suddenly, as a quivering note of unease crept into her already strained voice.
Nora answered quickly, in a reassuring tone. “He went out to get some groceries—now that we’ll have more mouths to feed. He didn’t think you’d be here this soon.”
With a vague nod, Ororo seemed to accept that explanation, rubbing her arms and looking restlessly around the room. “We brought some other clothes and things. Most of the dorms aren’t… aren’t too bad. Peter, would you…?” she asked haltingly—and her hand trembled as she held out her keys to him.
“Dah.” Peter took the keys and went out, with Kitty following him.
“You look exhausted.” Nora put her hands on Ororo’s shoulders. She glanced quickly toward the dining room, then asked the younger woman, “Why don’t you stay here a little while, and try to get some decent rest away from… all that?”
“No. I can’t.” Ororo shook her head. “There’s too much to do. The kids who are still there have to be taken care of. And… and Scott…”
The unbreakable façade of the weather goddess began to crumble. Nora reached out to hug her then, and Ororo wept on her shoulder; one of the most powerful mutants Hank had ever known, seeking comfort from an ordinary human whose only power was an open heart. His own heart broke all over again at the sight, and he looked away from the reflected image of grief.
Evidently the students also felt an instinctive impulse to give the two women privacy and distance. Most of them moved uncomfortably toward the hallway and the bedrooms beyond—perhaps herded there by those who knew that Hank had taken refuge in the dining room.
Jubilation Lee, on the other hand, made straight for the kitchen… but the dining room lay between herself and any possibility of a comforting candy stash in the cabinets.
Hank heard her coming, and he looked up sharply just as she stepped through the doorway. She was fully three steps into the room before she noticed him; then she froze in slow motion as her brain translated what her eyes were seeing, and a faint, inarticulate noise caught in her throat. His pulse quickening, Hank desperately gestured for her to be quiet.
She stared at him in a paralysis of shock for a long moment. Then, miraculously, she gave a small, stiff nod.
He watched her keenly as she edged closer to him. Her eyes were wide and frightened, as if she was afraid he would suddenly pounce on her and tear her to pieces.
“Doctor McCoy?” she whispered breathlessly.
Intrigued that she could recognize him at all, he gazed up at her with a sad smile. “Yes, Jubilee… it’s me. Wait a little while—you’ll hear what’s happened to me, when the others do.”
“I… I think I understand already.” Jubilee looked inward with a grimace, touching her fingertips to her temple. Hank knew she was remembering the terrible pain of that morning’s psychic assault… and then, to his surprise, her fingers hesitantly came to rest upon his.
For a long, pondering moment, he gazed down at her slim smooth hand against his large, blue, hairy one. Then he raised his eyes to hers with somber gratitude in his smile, and she ducked her head with a feeble grin.
Keys rattled beyond the doorway, and Hank looked up again at the picture frame that was his portal to the goings-on in the living room. Peter and Kitty had returned, carrying duffel bags hastily stuffed with clothes and a few of the youngest children’s favorite toys—Hank could make out the protruding head of Kristen’s teddy bear. More or less composed by this time, Ororo pulled herself away from Nora and took back her car keys, then smiled brokenly at the nurse.
“Tell Hank I’m sorry I missed him,” she said softly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “And I’ll really be glad to see him later.”
Hank’s heart thumped painfully. I wonder if you will…
When Ororo was gone, Nora locked and bolted the door, then hurried into the dining room. She stopped short when she saw Jubilee at Hank’s side. “Oh… I’m sorry, Hank, I—”
“It’s alright, Nora.” He gave her what passed for a small shrug on his large frame. Then he turned to the nervous teenager beside him.
“Tell the others who came with you about me, Jubilee. Tell them—what to expect. That will make it easier, when they see me in the morning.”
“If you want me to,” she said. Then her gaze dropped, and her words fumbled.
“I’m… I’m just… sorry, Doctor McCoy.”
“Don’t be.” Hank gave the girl a rueful smile. “This was always inside me, Jubilee. I’m not ashamed of it—just as I could never be ashamed of you, or Kitty, or Peter, or any of you. I’m proud of all of you… and I’m proud to be counted among you. Remember that.”
Jubilee’s eyes were suspiciously bright. She nodded slightly, glanced at Nora, and then quickly retreated from the room, leaving the two adults alone in an uncertain silence.
“You almost sounded like you meant it,” Nora said quietly after a moment.
Hank looked up sharply. “I do. Or at least… I will, when the shock has worn off, and I adjust to this. Perhaps some good will even come of it, in the end. My fight against discrimination will be…” He chuckled flatly. “Well, more meaningful than ever before. You know me, Nora. You know I’ll make the most of what I am—of everything I am. Just as I always have.”
“I’m sure of that, Hank. It’s only…” Nora hesitated. “I don’t want you to be afraid.”
“Of what?”
For answer, Nora gently leaned her head against his, caressing his bristly cheek with the back of her hand. The touch was purely tender and sympathetic, rather than suggestive; but that made little difference to the feelings her closeness stirred in him.
When he instinctively turned his face away from her, Hank understood her meaning—but he couldn’t bear to admit it, to explain to her what he felt. Awkwardly he pushed away from the table and stood up, placing himself just beyond her reach.
“I think it will be best if I sleep in the garage tonight. I don’t want to startle any of our new boarders if they wander into the living room before morning. Besides… I want to be by myself for a little while.” He hesitated, and his shoulders slumped as he helplessly conceded to the sadness in her eyes. “I just need time, Nora.”
With an empty smile, Nora shrugged. “I know. Just… don’t forget that I’m here.”
Hank’s expression softened, and he stepped closer. After a hesitation, he permitted himself to touch Nora’s face, gently brushing his thumb against her cheek.
“Good night, Nora,” he said brusquely, and went out.
© 2009 Jordanna Morgan
Author:
jordannamorganArchive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: Mild PG, for angst and adult situations.
Characters: Emphasis on Beast, with support from various other characters.
Setting: Mainly mid- to post-X2.
Summary: The personal journey of Henry McCoy—as a mutant, and as a man.
Disclaimer: Marvel and Fox create the characters that sell. Nora is mine, and so is Kristen, who has appeared in several of my stories.
After concluding his conversation with Charles, Hank faced the difficult task of explaining to Nora and the children that Jean Grey was gone. He gently did so, and went on to comfort the students as they mourned their beloved teacher. For him, there was at least some strange relief in this duty; it forced him to set aside his own anguished feelings.
Except when little Kristen chose to crawl into his lap and cling to his neck, heedless of his blue fur and savage countenance. In the face of that innocent trust and acceptance, Hank somehow avoided tears—but he wasn’t at all sure how he managed it.
Less than an hour after the phone call, there came a knock at the door in the familiar code. Hank started and quickly stood up, setting Kristen on her feet as he did so. Nora rose as well, and looked at him uncertainly.
“You see Ororo,” he said softly, and shook his head. “Jean was her best friend. I… I can’t add this to her burden yet.”
Perhaps it was only a convenient excuse, but it sounded reasonable enough.
Without waiting for Nora’s response, Hank turned and stepped into the dining room, where he uneasily sank onto one of the chairs at the table. His newly acute hearing detected every sound as Nora unlocked and unbolted the front door, then opened it to let Ororo and her charges into the house.
There was a painting on the dining room wall; one of the muted Renaissance landscapes Charles liked, but a mere art print, pedestrian enough to be mounted in an ordinary glass-fronted frame. It caught Hank’s eye, and he realized that its blurred reflection captured a large part of the living room beyond the doorway. With a dull pain in his heart, he watched the anxious reunions between the students who had been there the entire time, and those who had just arrived. It was a confusion of tears and embraces and voices speaking all at once, assuring each other they were alright, or asking and answering as to the welfare of the few students who remained behind at the school.
In the midst of them, Nora stood clasping Ororo’s hands in a somber greeting. Even in the glass, Hank could see the raw weariness of the dark-skinned beauty, and he hurt deeply for her. Ororo was a dear friend, and he knew her well enough to know the fragility behind her mask of regal strength.
With surprisingly little effort, he identified her voice through the high-strung chatter of the children. “Bobby and Rogue are still at the school. So is Artie. That’s all of them… except John. The Professor… he said he went with Magneto.”
Hank scowled to himself. He had always known that cinder-headed boy would be trouble.
“Where’s Hank?” Ororo asked suddenly, as a quivering note of unease crept into her already strained voice.
Nora answered quickly, in a reassuring tone. “He went out to get some groceries—now that we’ll have more mouths to feed. He didn’t think you’d be here this soon.”
With a vague nod, Ororo seemed to accept that explanation, rubbing her arms and looking restlessly around the room. “We brought some other clothes and things. Most of the dorms aren’t… aren’t too bad. Peter, would you…?” she asked haltingly—and her hand trembled as she held out her keys to him.
“Dah.” Peter took the keys and went out, with Kitty following him.
“You look exhausted.” Nora put her hands on Ororo’s shoulders. She glanced quickly toward the dining room, then asked the younger woman, “Why don’t you stay here a little while, and try to get some decent rest away from… all that?”
“No. I can’t.” Ororo shook her head. “There’s too much to do. The kids who are still there have to be taken care of. And… and Scott…”
The unbreakable façade of the weather goddess began to crumble. Nora reached out to hug her then, and Ororo wept on her shoulder; one of the most powerful mutants Hank had ever known, seeking comfort from an ordinary human whose only power was an open heart. His own heart broke all over again at the sight, and he looked away from the reflected image of grief.
Evidently the students also felt an instinctive impulse to give the two women privacy and distance. Most of them moved uncomfortably toward the hallway and the bedrooms beyond—perhaps herded there by those who knew that Hank had taken refuge in the dining room.
Jubilation Lee, on the other hand, made straight for the kitchen… but the dining room lay between herself and any possibility of a comforting candy stash in the cabinets.
Hank heard her coming, and he looked up sharply just as she stepped through the doorway. She was fully three steps into the room before she noticed him; then she froze in slow motion as her brain translated what her eyes were seeing, and a faint, inarticulate noise caught in her throat. His pulse quickening, Hank desperately gestured for her to be quiet.
She stared at him in a paralysis of shock for a long moment. Then, miraculously, she gave a small, stiff nod.
He watched her keenly as she edged closer to him. Her eyes were wide and frightened, as if she was afraid he would suddenly pounce on her and tear her to pieces.
“Doctor McCoy?” she whispered breathlessly.
Intrigued that she could recognize him at all, he gazed up at her with a sad smile. “Yes, Jubilee… it’s me. Wait a little while—you’ll hear what’s happened to me, when the others do.”
“I… I think I understand already.” Jubilee looked inward with a grimace, touching her fingertips to her temple. Hank knew she was remembering the terrible pain of that morning’s psychic assault… and then, to his surprise, her fingers hesitantly came to rest upon his.
For a long, pondering moment, he gazed down at her slim smooth hand against his large, blue, hairy one. Then he raised his eyes to hers with somber gratitude in his smile, and she ducked her head with a feeble grin.
Keys rattled beyond the doorway, and Hank looked up again at the picture frame that was his portal to the goings-on in the living room. Peter and Kitty had returned, carrying duffel bags hastily stuffed with clothes and a few of the youngest children’s favorite toys—Hank could make out the protruding head of Kristen’s teddy bear. More or less composed by this time, Ororo pulled herself away from Nora and took back her car keys, then smiled brokenly at the nurse.
“Tell Hank I’m sorry I missed him,” she said softly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “And I’ll really be glad to see him later.”
Hank’s heart thumped painfully. I wonder if you will…
When Ororo was gone, Nora locked and bolted the door, then hurried into the dining room. She stopped short when she saw Jubilee at Hank’s side. “Oh… I’m sorry, Hank, I—”
“It’s alright, Nora.” He gave her what passed for a small shrug on his large frame. Then he turned to the nervous teenager beside him.
“Tell the others who came with you about me, Jubilee. Tell them—what to expect. That will make it easier, when they see me in the morning.”
“If you want me to,” she said. Then her gaze dropped, and her words fumbled.
“I’m… I’m just… sorry, Doctor McCoy.”
“Don’t be.” Hank gave the girl a rueful smile. “This was always inside me, Jubilee. I’m not ashamed of it—just as I could never be ashamed of you, or Kitty, or Peter, or any of you. I’m proud of all of you… and I’m proud to be counted among you. Remember that.”
Jubilee’s eyes were suspiciously bright. She nodded slightly, glanced at Nora, and then quickly retreated from the room, leaving the two adults alone in an uncertain silence.
“You almost sounded like you meant it,” Nora said quietly after a moment.
Hank looked up sharply. “I do. Or at least… I will, when the shock has worn off, and I adjust to this. Perhaps some good will even come of it, in the end. My fight against discrimination will be…” He chuckled flatly. “Well, more meaningful than ever before. You know me, Nora. You know I’ll make the most of what I am—of everything I am. Just as I always have.”
“I’m sure of that, Hank. It’s only…” Nora hesitated. “I don’t want you to be afraid.”
“Of what?”
For answer, Nora gently leaned her head against his, caressing his bristly cheek with the back of her hand. The touch was purely tender and sympathetic, rather than suggestive; but that made little difference to the feelings her closeness stirred in him.
When he instinctively turned his face away from her, Hank understood her meaning—but he couldn’t bear to admit it, to explain to her what he felt. Awkwardly he pushed away from the table and stood up, placing himself just beyond her reach.
“I think it will be best if I sleep in the garage tonight. I don’t want to startle any of our new boarders if they wander into the living room before morning. Besides… I want to be by myself for a little while.” He hesitated, and his shoulders slumped as he helplessly conceded to the sadness in her eyes. “I just need time, Nora.”
With an empty smile, Nora shrugged. “I know. Just… don’t forget that I’m here.”
Hank’s expression softened, and he stepped closer. After a hesitation, he permitted himself to touch Nora’s face, gently brushing his thumb against her cheek.
“Good night, Nora,” he said brusquely, and went out.
© 2009 Jordanna Morgan