No More Greener
Hank never finds out exactly how it happens. He's consulted with other geneticists, but they'd never had all the information. He thought he'd been careful to make sure none of them had enough information to know what he was doing, but he must have slipped up somewhere. There's no other explanation.
Trask's people are polite. That's the worst of it. The soldiers are polite when they take Hank and Charles from the mansion; the doctors are polite when they examine them; the scientists are polite when they try and get Hank to tell them how the serum works. They are polite and complementary and interested and educated, and under other circumstances Hank would have enjoyed the chance to work with them.
Neither of them are allowed any serum, no matter how often Hank explains that Charles needs it. Withdrawal, in a complex filled with people who mean them harm, is extremely hard on the telepath; he keeps answering random thoughts he's picked up, his sleep is broken and shallow, his legs and back pain him terribly. Hank does his best to help him through, steadfastly refusing to allow Trask's people to touch him. He's forced to accept painkillers from the medical staff, though, enough to take the edge off Charles' pain without substituting one addiction for another.
Trask comes to see them after a few days; Hank has quickly lost track of time. "My security tells me you refused to go to the lab today," he says genially.
Hank counts to ten before answering. "Did they also tell you they dragged me down there anyway?" It took five men. It would have taken more, but with Charles so vulnerable Hank is restricting himself to strictly passive resistance.
Trask waves it away. "An overzealous interpretation of my orders. I have been told, however, that you refused to assist my people."
"I will not help you to take our powers."
The serum is completely out of Hank's system. He's three times as tall as Trask, twice as wide, fast and strong enough to tear the dwarf's head from his shoulders before anyone could react, and he knows Trask knows it.
Trask doesn't react when Hank looms over him. "Dr McCoy, no one wants to kill your mutant siblings. Your serum could allow them to live normal lives. Isn't that what you want?"
"There is nothing abnormal about our lives. I will not give you the formula; I will not help you to change it."
Trask sighs, folding his hands together. "Well, that is a shame. You should say whatever goodbyes you think your professor can understand. My men will come for him in the morning."
"What?"
"He's a very powerful telepath, I understand. My information is that he is fully capable of taking control of other people. I certainly can't risk having someone like that here in the complex. And I'm sure the autopsy will advance our research by years." He turns to leave.
"No, wait," Hank says quickly.
Trask pauses without turning. "I'm a busy man, Mr McCoy, I can't keep wasting my time on you."
"What do you want?"
Trask turns back, studying him. "I want the serum, Dr McCoy. I understand that the version you take affects a cosmetic change only, and Professor Xavier's is adapted to regenerate his spine. I want a third version, one that will strip a mutant of his powers completely."
"It's impossible..."
"If I thought you were helping my people work on that, then I could allow you to manufacture serum for your Professor. And yourself, if you wanted. I can't imagine it's easy to do the practical work like - that." He gestures dismissively.
Hank has the absurd desire to hide his hands behind his back. "You'll let him keep taking the serum."
"As long as you are making progress, yes."
Hank looks back at Charles, semi-conscious and unaware of what's happening. "Yes."
Trask smiles. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that..."
Hank glares. Trask lets it go, turning away. "We'll begin tomorrow. Once I'm sure that you are genuinely helping, you'll be given a dose."
He leaves, locking them into the room. Hank sinks to sit on the floor beside Charles' bed, head in hands. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I don't know what else to do."
It takes two days and three doses of serum before Charles is coherent enough to talk to him.
"I didn't know what else to do," Hank says wearily. "I'm going as slowly as I can, but they control the serum, and without it..."
"You can't let them have it, Hank," Charles tells him.
"If I don't help them, they'll let you go mad without it and then they'll kill you."
Charles rubs a hand over his leg convulsively. "I certainly don't wish to die," he admits. "But if Trask is able to weaponize your serum..."
"Do you remember the last few days?" Hank demands.
"No," Charles says slowly. "Nothing clear, anyway."
"Then don't tell me - you don't know what it was like, watching you in that pain."
"No. I don't know," he agrees softly. "Hank, if you knew the serum would take away your powers as well as your appearance..."
"I don't know," Hank says wearily. "I hear everything you're saying. I've been having this argument with myself for days. All I know is that if I refuse, you will die in pain and he'll find some other way to motivate me." He laughs hollowly. "Erik may have been right after all."
"People fear what they do not understand. That has always been true."
"I know that," Hank says tightly. "That doesn't help much, Professor."
"No, I don't suppose it does," Charles agrees. "I am sorry, my friend."
"Sorry," Hank repeats.
"It was your work on the serum for me that brought us to their attention, yes?"
Hank wonders briefly what Charles skimmed from his mind without realising it. "I think so, yes," he admits.
"Well, then, I am sorry."
"I'm not. I wouldn't have left you in pain like that."
"Even if the cost is our race?"
Hank shrugs. "Then I will know I was making the choice I could live with."
"May you live with it for many years yet."
"Hear, hear," he agrees.
Time passes; Hank has no idea how much, as their room and the labs are both underground and he's never permitted outside. Trask's schedule for the serum keeps Charles on the edge of underdosed; his legs and back vary between painful and numb, and he constantly picks up surface thoughts from the people around them. Hank never takes the serum anymore, preferring to stay in his Beast form in the slim hope of intimidating their captors.
"They're planning to kill us, you know," Charles says conversationally one evening.
"I know," Hank agrees from where he's draped over his bunk. "Even powerless, we know too much about them, we could expose -" He waves vaguely. "Experimentation on American citizens, etcetera, etcetera."
"But you continue to help them."
Even moving as slowly as he can, Hank is making progress. He's too smart and the people around him too watchful to avoid it.
"We aren't dead yet. And we are a long way from perfecting the serum. Every mutant's X gene is slightly different, hence the astonishing range of abilities they display. We have not yet found a way to affect any X gene anywhere; only to target it to a pre existing sample."
Charles is watching him carefully. "Do you think it's possible?"
"Maybe. Eventually. Right now, it takes approximately four days from receipt of the sample to create the correct serum. Trask has me working to cut that down."
"Be very careful, my friend," Charles warns him.
Hank rolls over to put his back to the room, and they are silent.
The guard pushes Hank out of his room. It's so out of character for Trask's polite workers that Hank turns on him.
The guard's eyes flash golden, and Hank hesitates.
"C'mon, Bozo," the guard tells him. "Some of us are on a schedule."
"I'm sure I wouldn't want to hold you up," Hank manages, aware that another guard is watching them from further down the corridor.
"Might be counter productive," the guard agrees. "Come on, now. Lots to get done."
Hank drifts through the day on autopilot; although he tries, later, he can't remember a single thing he's done. All he can think about is getting back to Charles.
The same guard escorts him back to his cell that evening. Hank makes the journey in silence. Erik or Alex would think of the perfect thing to say, a coded message that would mean nothing if they were wrong. Hank can't think of anything that isn't glaringly obvious or so opaque as to be useless.
"Try and keep it down tonight," the guard says abruptly as they near the cell. "None of us want to be listening to you two."
The message is clear enough. Hank glares for the look of it, thinking furiously. It's not the first time he's suspected the rooms are bugged, but he often told Charles he was moving as slowly as possible and no reprisals ever appeared. He's allowed himself to relax.
He and Charles talk idly as Hank eats and Charles pushes his food around his plate. He's having a good day as far as pain goes, which means he's desperately bored. Hank has suggested asking for books, but Charles refuses to ask their captors for anything, to admit to any discomfort. They talk for a while; Hank can't figure out how to pass on his message. Charles gives him the perfect opening, in the end, a throwaway comment about missing his own clothes.
It's not a new complaint, but Hank jumps on it gratefully. "I miss birds," he says firmly. Charles raises an eyebrow and Hank scowls, remembering too late where Charles received his education. "Not women. Avians. Hawks, robins, ravens." He's careful not to lean on one name above the others, but Charles looks up sharply anyway; Hank catches his gaze and holds it.
"It's a long time since I saw a robin," Charles says finally. "Longer for a raven, I think."
"Not so long for me." Hank is still holding Charles' gaze, and he can see the moment Charles understands.
"You won't see any here." There's the tiniest quiver in his voice, nothing a listener will hear. "This is no place for a bird."
"No place for any of us," Hank murmurs, looking away. Charles has understood the message.
We are not alone.
Raven, wearing that same guard's form, escorts Hank back and forth for the next few days. Hank is on tenterhooks, terrified to miss whatever signal she'll be using, afraid to look at her for too long for fear of drawing attention. Charles is waiting for news every day, and it hurts Hank to see his face fall each time.
Trask visits the lab unexpectedly one day, studying Hank's progress and beaming kindly. "See, not so hard as you thought," he says jovially. "Oh, but Dr McCoy? I've decided I don't want you to discuss your work with Professor Xavier any more."
Hank blinks. "He's a professor of genetics," he points out. "He can help me."
"No more," Trask says evenly. "If you think that will be too difficult to keep to, I can arrange to have you housed separately."
Raven shifts infinitesimally. Hank does not look at her.
"No more work discussions," he agrees. "But I want something in return."
"Oh?" Trask says, amused. "What might that be?"
"A chess board." Trask grins widely, and Hank shrugs. "We can't exactly discuss current affairs or the latest bestseller."
"No, I suppose you can't," Trask agrees. "Very well, a chessboard. Anything else? A pack of cards, maybe?" Hank does not react, and after a moment Trask turns away.
The board, when it's delivered, is a sheet of paper with the grid marked out, and thirty two scraps of paper with the names of the pieces written on them. Charles laughs for a long time.
"So all this is stop the mutie from having sore legs?" Raven says conversationally a few days later.
"It's rather more complicated than that..."
"It was me, I'd be feeding him sugar pills," she continues right over him. "This stuff's all in the mind, you know."
"It is not," Hank says automatically, mind whirling. How can he possibly communicate this to Charles...
He barely notices the door locking behind him, only distantly registers Charles' greeting. Eventually he shakes it off, looking up to a worried gaze from Charles. He shakes his head slightly, dismissing it, and glances at the trays waiting for them.
"Delicious as always, I see," he says with a sigh.
"Yes," Charles says warily, watching him.
"Maybe a blind taste test would make it better. You know, one placebo, one actual meal…"
"I'm not sure even that could save this food." Charles looks worried, though.
Hank concentrates on looking as apologetic as possible. "Placebos have value, in their place."
Charles looks away. "Yes," he agrees. "I suppose they do."
Hank swallows hard. "I'm not really hungry," he says softly. "Do you want this?"
"No. Thank you. I find I don't have much appetite either."
Charles is kept on such a low dose that a single missed day is enough to bring his powers back at full strength, though they're flaring wildly, in and out of his control. Hank spends the evening making up things to talk about for the sake of the bugs, trying to soothe out the cramps in Charles' legs and back while he tries not to make any noise. They doze on and off, woken as Charles picks up on different people moving around the compound.
"I can't hear her," he breathes as Hank tries to get him to drink something the next morning. "I can't find her."
"Give it time," Hank advises him. "I have to go to the lab. Try and sleep if you can." Charles nods, gritting his teeth against whatever he's hearing now.
It's the hardest thing Hank's done in a long time, leaving him there.
The day drags. Raven is not there to escort him to the lab, but she turns up partway through the day, standing by the door and apparently ignoring Hank. He ignores her right back.
She escorts him back that evening, but there's no message. Charles has mostly fallen numb; he's distracted all evening, clearly listening to as many thoughts around him as he can, trying to gather as much information as possible before someone realises what's happening.
Hank debates suggesting that Charles simply get them out - his powers are obviously back in his control, at least enough for that - but Raven clearly has some kind of plan, and he doesn't want to risk her. Charles looks over, catching his eye and shaking his head, and Hank knows his reasoning has been heard and accepted.
Hank wakes that night to Charles' touch, both on his arm and in his mind. Time to go, the soft voice says.
Hank sits up, thinking Raven? as hard as he can. Charles nods briskly, turning to look towards the door, where the guard is waiting semi-patiently.
No talking yet, Charles says just before Hank is about to speak. He jumps, glaring half-heartedly at him; Charles lifts one shoulder in a shrug, grinning in a way Hank hasn't seen in years. Hank swings him up easily into his arms, being as matter-of-fact as he can about it.
Raven waves them out impatiently, glancing up and down the corridor. "Here." She presses a syringe into Hank's hands as he passes her. "We need you small and unnoticed," she says, half apologetically. Hank shrugs, injecting himself quickly. Strange to see skin after so long, he thinks distantly, and catches Charles' look. He'll have to get used to that again.
"I have people waiting to get you out of here," Raven continues, leading them rapidly along the corridors. This isn't the way to the lab, and Hank is quickly lost. "But you need to do two things, Charles."
"Yes," Charles says quietly.
"Take the serum from all of them. Don't let them remember anything. We're dealing with the records and physical samples, but they can't be able to put it together again. They're all on base tonight, we made certain."
"Yes," Charles says again, more distantly.
"No, not yet," she says sharply, turning on him and flaring back to blue; Hank pulls up sharply to keep from running into her. "Listen to me, first. Because the second part is the one you're not going to like."
Trask's private quarters are, of course, above ground. Raven, still blue, leads them briskly through corridors, stepping casually over the occasional guard's body. Hank ignores them as much as he can. Some are breathing; some he can't tell. Raven and her mysterious partners are efficient, he'll give them that much.
Charles is silently seething in Hank's arms. Raven was right; he really didn't like the second part, but she is refusing to let him argue against it, and short of taking control of her mind - and if there's any mind Charles is more reluctant to control than hers, Hank doesn't know whose it is - there's nothing he can do about it. There are too many parts to the plan, and if he refuses he condemns a lot of people.
Raven pauses outside the door, watching them both. "Are you ready? Charles?"
"Just do it, Raven," Charles says tiredly.
Raven glances at Hank. "Give me fifteen seconds." Hank nods, and she vanishes into the room.
Hank counts to fifteen before carefully stepping inside. Trask is sitting, very still, on the side of the bed. Raven's standing beside him; from their angle, there's no hint of violence at all, nothing wrong apart from Trask's stillness.
Charles is already concentrating; Hank finds a chair with a view of the bed and lowers Charles in as carefully as he can.
"The problem with coming after people like us, Trask?" Raven says conversationally. "We can fight back."
Trask's eyes settle on Hank's. "I was trying to help you," he says tightly.
"You were trying to wipe us out," Hank corrects him. "Trying to force us into your opinion of what is good for us, for humanity. No one should be able to do that."
"If you kill me, you will prove me right."
"We're not going to kill you," Raven says, stepping away from him. Trask's gaze flicks to her and she smiles, almost gently. "We don't need to, after all."
"I am in your mind," Charles says tonelessly. "We've destroyed the records on the serum. You'll find that you can't quite remember it; you can't quite understand it. No matter how hard you work, it will always be just slightly beyond your understanding. And you will not remember the mutants you thought could help you with it. Not our names, not our faces, not anything about us. It's all gone."
"No," Trask grits. "You can't…"
"I can. Be grateful that's all I'm doing." He's still frighteningly toneless. "My sister wanted me to wipe your mind totally, make sure you could never threaten us again."
"Sister." Trask is grasping, Hank can tell. "You don't have - your records - I can't remember…"
"Here's something for you to remember," Raven tells him. "No mutant is an island. If you take one, another will come for you. We are legion, we are everywhere. Don't come for any mutant again. If you do, we'll come back, and this time we won't be so kind."
"Raven," Charles says on a gasp. Hank can feel him shuddering, forcing powers that are only just under his control to obey him, making sure that Trask will believe what Raven has told him.
Raven glances back at him, face smoothing over. "Charles, we all need to leave the building. My team have cleared out everyone else."
Trask rises jerkily to his feet, suddenly silent. Hank steps into Charles' field of view before picking him up; Charles all but ignores him, attention on Trask.
Raven's team are wearing masks. Hank thinks he should be surprised that they're crudely made copies of Charles' face; it just fits in with everything else that's happened tonight, though.
Trask calmly walks to the edge of the parking lot and sits neatly on the curb. Charles watches him for a moment longer before looking at Raven. "He won't move for a while. Now what happens?"
"Now we take you home." Raven gestures and two of her people join them. The rest are spaced out around the building or watching the prisoners. Trask's staff are all remarkably docile; Hank wonders vaguely if Charles is keeping them all quiet, or just Trask.
"Raven," Charles says softly.
"Later," she says, and it's a promise. "We have some of your serum, if you want to - "
"No. Thank you." Charles shakes his head.
Raven doesn't push it, but she does slip a couple of vials into Hank's pocket without drawing any attention to it. "Let's go. Time you were home."
The mansion is odd.
No, that's not quite right. The mansion is exactly as it always was; only that Charles is back in his wheelchair, nowadays, and Raven is still haunting the corridors, blonde and pretty as she'd been when Hank first knew her. She's been talking to Charles, but when she comes to visit Hank's lab almost a week after their escape it's the first time they've spoken.
"I don't seem to be as interested in research as I was before," he says quietly, gesturing to a table of untouched equipment and test results.
"That'll pass. Nothing can keep you away from science for long."
"Your team didn't stay long."
"They're not really my team," she admits, playing with a discarded test tube. "Some of them were Magneto's, before..." She trails off, and Hank nods. Azazel's teleportation is entirely recogniseable. "And some of them just had complementary aims."
"Complementary," Hank repeats.
"To stop Trask. He was experimenting on mutants, torturing them. He tore Angel's wing from her back while she was alive, just to see what would happen. He killed so many. He was trying to wipe us out."
"I know." He's glad, for Charles' sake, that he didn't kill Trask, but he wouldn't have lost any sleep over the man.
"You're sure Charles wiped him? He won't give up, if he remembers even a little bit..."
"Bolivar Trask could watch us accept the Nobel for the mutant power dampening serum, and he still wouldn't put it together. Not to mention the fact that he can't even think of taking a mutant without bone deep terror."
"You're sure?" she insists.
"I trust your brother," Hank says mildly. Raven looks away, flushing. "Are you staying?"
"No. I mean, I don't think so. I haven't decided yet." She glances pointlessly at the door. "Do you think he'll go back on the serum?"
"I don't know," Hank says honestly. Charles has had one attack since their return, powers veering wildly out of control; he was able to use Hank and Raven's minds, two of the minds he knows best in the world, to ground himself without resorting to the serum, but if she is leaving...
"But you'll make it for him if he wants it?"
"Someone has to look after him," Hank says, and the bitterness in his tone surprises him. Raven flinches, but she doesn't look away again. "I didn't mean - you weren't here; you didn't see him. If he comes to me in pain like that, I can't..."
"I grew up with him," Raven reminds him softly. "He was already skilled when I knew him, but there were times..." She falls silent again, shrugging helplessly.
There's a noise outside in the corridor and Charles appears, wheeling himself in. "Hank - ah, Raven, there you are. Good, I can tell you both at once."
"What is it?" Hank asks, shifting on his stool.
"Hank, I need something from you."
"Of course," he agrees.
"Destroy the serum."
Hank blinks. "I'm sorry?"
"The serum you've been giving me. Destroy it; destroy the records; forget it as best you can."
"Why?" Raven blurts, immediately clapping a hand over her mouth.
Charles only smiles at her. "Because it's dangerous in the wrong hands. And you, my sister, can't spend the rest of your life breaking us out when someone takes it into their mind to capture us. If there is no serum, there is nothing to tip anyone off."
"Your serum was never the problem," Hank says, and then blinks. "Oh."
Raven is looking back and forth between them. Charles more or less ignores her, watching Hank. "I can't make the decision for you," he says gently. Hank tries very hard not to think make it for me, and from Charles' sad smile he doesn't quite manage.
"If I destroy the serum, Professor, you'll never be able to turn your ability off. You'll never walk again."
"I controlled my ability before. I'll do it again. And walking…" He shrugged. "New spinal therapies are pioneered every day. The serum is not my only chance."
Raven moves suddenly, sitting on Charles' lap to hug him. Charles returns the hug, but the look on his face makes Hank realise that Raven is going to leave. She may not have admitted it yet, but somewhere deep inside she has made the decision.
She's here now, though. Hank forces a smile. "It'll take about fifteen minutes to destroy everything. Why don't you go upstairs, see if there's a good movie on? I'll be up."
Raven climbs off Charles' lap, smiling at them both. "I'll race you," she suggests to Charles.
"Ah, I think you might have a slight advantage, my dear. Why don't you push me instead? My arms are tired."
"Can't have that," Raven agrees cheerfully, deliberately tipping his chair all the way back. Charles laughs, waving vaguely towards the door, and Raven pushes him out.
Left alone, Hank studies the serum for a long time. He thinks about Bolivar Trask and about all the others he knows are out there, the ones who want to destroy them. He thinks about the mutants who could benefit from the serum, and he thinks about the ones who could be harmed by it.
Finally, he thinks clearly Will you remember? Charles' agreement brushes his mind, and Hank carefully visualises the serum and each step in manufacturing it. Charles will remember it, if they need it again, but he'll be able to hide it. That done, Hank carefully destroys the vials of serum Raven gave him, and every note he kept on the process.
Then he goes upstairs to join his friends.
I believe in Karma what you give is what you get returned
I believe you can't appreciate real love until you've been burned
I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side
I believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye