I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past

I am slightly obsessed with it though. Obviously.

Through Eyes of Orange and Blue

Chapter 6: The Hazards of Flying

Hank sat in the cockpit of the private plane, his hands firmly on the control wheel. Though his countenance was stern, he felt a rush of enjoyment from flying. From controlling such a huge, bulky contraption, lifting it so high in the air and soaring gracefully, smoothly above the billowy clouds. It was a very powerful, very relaxing sensation.

He fleetingly wondered if he would ever get the opportunity to bring Hope flying with him. She would love it, he was sure. He would even teach her to pilot the plane so she could feel this power, this freedom.

The three other passengers resided in the passenger cabin behind him. Its dark blue walls and contrasting, cream-colored seating reminded him of a different her. A her with scaly, dark blue skin and yellow eyes. And he was glad to be facing away from it, looking out at the vast expanse of cloud-filled sky.

The thick, heavy headphones he wore over his ears to communicate with ground control blocked out most noise and he was glad of that as well. He needed some quiet seclusion to himself to sort out and compartmentalize everything from the last twenty-four hours.

And being so well-versed and at ease controlling the bird afforded him the luxury of being able to breathe and do just that.

For a while.

Gradually, his alert beast senses picked up the rising tension from behind him in the comfortably furnished cabin.

If I had to guess, I'd say they were arguing about her again. Don't even need that dark blue cabin for that either. Well, you go ahead and do that, gentleman. I'm opting out for once.

He knew Charles was sitting with his back to him, facing Erik and further away, Logan. As the tension in the cabin mounted further, Hank glanced back in time to see them rising. Charles clutching at Erik and screaming in his face. He was so loud Hank could actually hear his accusing words through the insulating headphones.

"You abandoned me! You took her away and you abandoned me!"

Um, Charles? Please resume your seat and refrain from assaulting the man who controls metal while we are airborne in a plane mostly comprised of METAL!

Without warning, the cabin lights flickered ominously and the fuselage of the plane began to crinkle like aluminum foil. The aircraft dipped in an alarming, bone-rattling descent. The dials in front of Hank spun wildly and even using his mutant beast strength, he could not right the plane.

Bracing one hand against the control panel, he looked back again over his shoulder at the scene unfolding behind him.

"Erik!" he called out in controlled alarm, his heart beginning to thunder beneath his blue and white striped shirt.

A nice, peaceful flight, guys. Was that really too much to ask?!

Erik stood, seemingly unfazed by the impending disaster, intent on making his point even if he had to kill them all to do it. He spoke quiet words Hank could not make out through the headphones and his face was deadly serious. For some reason, the fact that he was speaking quietly and calmly filled Hank with more dread than if he were shouting like Charles.

Behind him, Logan gripped his armrests tightly, his rugged face tight with stress. As the plane tilted further, Logan grabbed at the items threatening to slip off his table and called out to the men in front of him. Charles lost his balance and fell onto the seating while Erik remained upright and unflinching.

Looming over him.

Man, this is why I hate traveling with angry mutants.

"Erik!"

Loose items slid and crashed around the cabin and cockpit of the plane. They were tilted dangerously to the side and Hank didn't need to be clairvoyant to see disaster looming on the horizon. Charles was holding on to an overhead grip and Logan seemed alarmed as well.

And now Erik was shouting.

"We were supposed to protect them! Together!"

Hank felt growing compassion for the man of metal. Charles had at least had Hank to stay with him. While Erik in the end had truly been completely abandoned. Left to languish alone without any friend at all, without even his metal to comfort him. Hank remembered wondering if Erik had really shot the president and what his motivation could possibly have been. He had always had his doubts as to the validity of the accusation but Charles' absolute belief in it (driven, Hank was sure, by his own personal experience and lingering emotional pain) steamrolled over any tentative discussion Hank ever tried to present.

Abandonment issues all around then, gentlemen?

That being said, he most definitely did not favor Erik's extreme reactions to those to chose to disagree with him. Coins. Strangleholds.

Crashing the plane they were in now. Hank didn't really believe Erik meant to kill them all including himself, but they were rapidly running out of airspace to avoid such an instance.

Can we, perhaps, resume our trajectory and continue this argument on the ground?!

"Erik!"

Come on, man. I don't have regenerative powers like Wolfy over there. I've got better things to do than die today!

The man of metal completely ignored him, glowering at Charles and reigning in control over the rapidly careening metal cage of death now freely falling out of the sky.

Uh, Logan, I'm a little busy trying to pilot this crashing plane. Little help here? You like to hit people. Knock him out! Come on, you're right behind him!

Hank could now see the Atlantic rushing up to meet them. For whatever reason, Logan remained still and Erik remained upright.

But you didn't hesitate to clock me? Really?!

As Hank began calculating the probability of beasting out, effectively rendering Erik unconscious, and regaining control of the aircraft before they plummeted into the unforgiving dark waters of the cold ocean, Erik finally relented.

The frame of the plane resumed its former stability and evened out its trajectory. Hank gripped the navigational wheel in relief and slowly they regained their intended flight pattern. The men in the cabin resumed their full and upright positions.

Oh wow, I miss you and your positive waves, Hope. Good thing I packed extra shorts.

Hank McCoy drew a deep, stabilizing breath and let it out slowly. The beast inside squinted up its eyes warily and watched Erik Lehnsherr even more closely than before.

Growl.

I know. He's going to be the death of us all.

He was considering this eventuality when Charles made his way into the cockpit of the plane, seeming to need a moment to calm himself. He slouched in the co-pilot's seat next to Hank and stared out at the quiet, peaceful vista stretched out before them. His trembling hand resting over his mouth. Neither of them spoke.

So . . . where to, Charles? Vegas? Disney? No? Well, at least I tried.

They flew on toward Paris, France. Bolivar Trask. And the elusive blue mutant Mystique.

They passed the remainder of the eight hour flight without much excitement. Which was absolutely fine by Hank.

He kept to himself and his own thoughts.

He was a little tired but it was a different kind of tired. Not the tired of trudging through each day, clutching at, searching for, any reason at all to keep going. This was a tired brought on by actually contributing to something larger than himself. And Charles. A tired brought on by being out in the world. In a big way.

New York.

DC.

Now Paris, France.

Then, the future.

If there was one.

When the sun was set and they flew through inky, black skies, Hank glanced back into the softly lit cabin. Logan was slightly reclined in his seat, his eyes barely open. But vigilant, always vigilant. Though he had described the dark, desolate future to them, Hank wondered just how bad it must be to become so grim, so haunted as Logan seemed to be.

Charles had previously returned to the cabin, mute and sullen. Hank saw him drinking again. Charles, always drinking. Shoring up those protective barriers of alcohol against whatever might try to break though. Erik, peaceable once more. Imbibing an apparently sumptuous shot of alcohol and offering an olive branch of chess.

Good. It was good they were talking. Quietly. Calmly.

Hank wasn't really a very good lip reader. But one phrase he did notice and it surprised him.

Did he just . . . apologize? The right and mighty Erik? Wow. I wonder what that feels like. To have someone admit that they've done wrong by you.

Maybe they would actually survive this.

Well, anything's possible.

I would just love to fly a plane. 'Course I would need LOADS of Dramamine to do it. And by that point, I'd be unconscious anyway. So whatever.

Yep, yep, thanks for the remind, angeleye02. Everybody Youtube "Everything Wrong with X-Men: First Class". Hilarious! If you already have, go watch it again! Never gets old.

And as much as I LOVE XMen: DoFP, you will hear me howling and laughing with joy whenever the CinemaSins guy does that one! Think of me, yeah?

Thanks to the ever loyal reviewers MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, lupoea2, Mog161, Princess Of Darkness12, Shanynde, lol, brigid1318, Voodoo-Mutant-Child, theFGnat, and angeleye02 for speaking up.

Thanks also to shir . pinhas .1, Aletta-Feather, and I've Been a Labrat (same as last time - Erik quote from X-Men FC?) for adding your support to this story. :)

Alright, tomorrow, we finally meet up with Raven. Wonder how Hank's gonna take that? *winks