I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.
Two weeks 'til DVD release though!
The Story Left Untold
Chapter 1: Caught by Surprise
He stood in his laboratory, wondering what he could do, should do, here.
And whether any of it mattered at all.
If the current of the river of time was flowing the way it appeared to be, everything was doomed anyway.
And so were they.
All because of her.
Raven.
Once a beautiful, smiling young woman with an extraordinary mutant shape shifting ability now evolved into a nearly unrecognizable creature hell bent on murder, destruction.
The murder of the scientist Bolivar Trask.
And the destruction of the entire world for the sake of the mutant species.
And she couldn't even see it.
Raven, consumed by her terrible self-assigned mission of killing Bolivar Trask.
Raven, who plowed through those who stood in her way like a blue, scaly demon.
He remembered her differently.
The way she used to be.
Her smile.
Her laughter.
Her delight.
Her vivacious energy.
Her hope.
It seemed to be all gone now.
What happened to you, Raven?
But he knew the answer.
Erik Lensherr.
He had begun worming his way into her thought processes and her open heart from the first moment he'd met her.
And when everything went south and all lay in ruins, he had summoned Raven to him on the beach.
And she had gone.
He, Hank, had seen no plausible way to stop her.
And Charles Xavier, her mutant brother, had let her go. Practically given her his blessing.
What had he been thinking?
Sometime between then and now, Erik had twisted Raven's beauty, her passion.
Twisted it all around and set her on a darker path.
And now she was this . . . thing.
This stranger.
And Hank didn't want her to be.
He felt weak all of a sudden, overwhelmed. Like everything was too much to bear. Like he was going to simply crumble under the weight of it all.
Slowly and with great self control, he reached out and placed his palms flat on the smooth, cool, metal of the shiny worktable.
Hung his head.
And took a deep, stabilizing breath. Trying to think.
"Hello, Hank."
Now here they were.
In this dim space, dusty light filtering through in through the grimy windows.
The four of them.
Charles, Logan, and Hank.
All staring at her.
Raven.
Blond, pale, svelte.
Raven.
Suddenly dropped back into their lives. Like a live bomb.
And blew up Hank's entire world.
He stood as still as he could, arms folded casually, protectively, across his chest. He leaned back against a countertop, grateful that it gave him support to remain still and upright.
Raven sat in a chair, facing them. Charles and Logan.
Hank remained off to the side.
He didn't want to talk with her, interact, engage, any of it.
He didn't.
And he did.
He didn't want to look at her.
He didn't want to speak to her.
He didn't even want to be in the same room with her.
And he did.
What he really wanted to do was fade into the paneling.
Close his eyes and pretend he wasn't there.
But he was in this. He was a part of it.
Whether he wanted to be or not.
So he stuck.
He stayed. Arms crossed over his thin human chest.
She had just conveyed her commitment to her mission of killing Trask. Relayed it in such a calm, easy tone to them. As if she had just spoken of her need to wash a load of dirty laundry.
Hank forced himself to speak to her in an equally calm voice.
The voice of logic, of reason.
As if she had ever bothered to listen to that.
But still, he had to try.
"But if you kill Trask, there'll be ten more just like him."
She was not so easily deterred.
But she was getting annoyed.
"Then I'll kill them too. And anyone who comes next."
Who are you? You speak of murder as if it's a household chore. Vacuum, dust, kill Trask. Take out the trash, wipe down the counters, kill Trask. What have you become, Raven?
Logan, the future man who had started this entire thing, apparently had had enough polite conversation.
"Look, let's just cut to the chase here," he addressed Raven brusquely. "I know how all this ends. 'Cause I've seen you in the future."
She shifted her veiled, suspicious gaze to him and held her ground.
"Yeah, what am I like?" she challenged.
Logan met her scrutiny without blinking. And told her.
Hank's protective nature bristled instinctively at the gruff response.
"Hey . . ."
No call to direct that sort of language at her, Logan.
Grrr . . .
Well, who cares if it's true? He shouldn't . . .
Grrr . . .
He sighed internally.
Okay, fair point.
She seemed somewhat offended.
"Well, don't hold back."
But Logan wasn't done. He seemed to have found his one moment in time where he could vividly see averting the immutable river's current with words.
Which seemed impressive to Hank because Logan appeared to prefer punching things (people) more.
"By the time they finish you, and they finish you," Logan emphasized. "You've killed so much you are knee deep in human and mutant blood. . . "
Hank's entire body ran ice cold, dunked abruptly into a chilling deep freeze as the hideous image rose behind his bespectacled eyes.
Raven, beautiful Raven, bathed in the blood of guilty and innocent alike. Face twisted in misery and anguish. Arms thrown out wide, beseeching the heavens for mercy.
For freedom.
For absolution.
For peace.
Pale and blond or blue and red, he didn't want that future for her.
Or any of them.
". . . you don't even know who you are," Logan concluded.
The words hung heavy in the air and on them like weights on drowning, helpless supplicants. Covering them, suffocating them, in the undeniable horror of what could be.
What for Logan was, and had been a stark, inescapable reality.
But Raven, willful Raven, was stubborn and proud.
And not easily dissuaded.
Just as she had been deep inside when Hank had first met her.
Before Erik.
Now, compounded more so.
"Well, maybe there wouldn't be so much mutant blood if we made our move now," she shot back at Logan.
That was it. She had come to them, these three men, to plead her case, request their help. These men, two of which had always come running to her beck and call. She had asked them for their help. She wanted them to know, understand her side. Help her in her mission to save the mutants of the world from the driven, well mannered, diminutive monster Trask.
It wasn't going so well.
Her statement raised the ire of Charles, the wheelchair bound, ragged-looking telepath.
"These are Erik's words, not yours," he declared gently. "Besides . . ."
And as Charles declared her intended actions to be exactly what Trask wanted, Hank saw it all.
So very clearly.
She was going to do it.
She was going to kill Trask.
Just as he had predicted.
They could not stop her.
Or this war.
The ruin of humanity, of the mutiny species, of the entire world.
The river of time was too powerful. The current would not be changed.
They were going to fail.
Hello, all!
How do you turn two minutes and fifty seconds of a deleted scene into a multi-chapter fic? Just keep writing I suppose! But hey, what else was I to do? Not write? *shrugs sheepishly
Anyway, the first part of this chapter is all me. And the second part is from a deleted scene of DoFP. Thanks to brigid1318 for alerting me to its internet existence. Bless you, my dear, I haven't slept properly in days.
The deleted scene continues and concludes in the next chapter.
Oh and if you haven't seen the pic that goes with this fic (yay! I rhymed!) then check it out. I think it's perfection.
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