I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.
I do not own Beast, Hank, or Nicholas Hoult.
In Between
Chapter 7: Anger and Remembrance
Angry. He'd been so angry.
Angry with him. Erik. For letting his anger, his vengeful nature get the better of him. Not for killing Shaw. That Hank could understand, having felt the beast awakening within him. No. Erik, curving the agent's bullet away from himself. That bullet that had pierced Charles' spinal cord, forever crippling him. Erik, for blaming others for Charles' condition. Erik, for leaving when they needed him so badly. His friend, his mutant brother. Another part of the team. Eric, who had even cried with Charles bleeding in his arms. But then he had let that man go. Abandoned Charles, abandoned them all. Erik, inviting her to go, to accompany him. To abandon them and join him. Because he wanted her, needed her more than the others. Or so Erik thought.
Angry with him. Charles. For always believing in the indomitable good of others even when they themselves did not exhibit it. For foolishly believing that sense and reason would trump hatred and fear. For not acting, for not choosing to control those who needed it. If only long enough to stop the storm. Charles, who'd let her go. Reading her mind when he, Hank, could not. And telling her she could go. She who never would have found the strength to ask, to go on her own. She who might have stayed, if Charles had only asked. But he hadn't.
Angry with her. For leaving when she was most needed. As Charles lay shot and perhaps dying upon the sands, she had left. Left the man who was like a brother to her. The man who had given her a home when she had none, himself for a family when she had none. And then she, in his darkest hour, had simply left Charles because she disagreed with him. Speaking empty, hollow words of encouragement to him, Hank. When they didn't need words just then. When what they really needed was each other. All of them. Together. A team. A unit.
She had been one of the strongest hearts of their band. Her and Charles. And now she was gone, taking part of that heart with her. Even if she didn't care for him, didn't want him. She should have stayed. For all of them. The good she could have done for them, her fellow mutants. The good she could have done with the children. She, the one who encouraged, the one who argued so passionately, the one who called everybody out, and never gave an inch of slack to anybody. She, whose laughter and smile vanquished the loneliness, the hopelessness. She, the one who cared the most deeply.
Or so he thought.
And though he had been so angry and was angry still, he cared for her even now. Worried about her. Hoped for her safety. Dreamed of her return.
And he didn't know if he would ever stop.
Angry again with the Charles of now. For hiding out, giving up. Becoming the serum junkie he was who only cared about himself and his own pain.
Hank, gentle Hank, was so angry. So very, very angry.
When he was angry and hurt as a child and a teenager, helplessly infuriated and insulted by those bullies that made fun of his glasses, of his gangly, pale appearance. Made fun of him for being so smart. Only because they weren't. When he was hurt then, as he was so very often, he would clench his fists, glare at the floor, at his shoes, at anything but them. Remain silent. And get away or wait it out until he could.
Helpless fury.
But harmless to everyone but himself.
Now when he was angry and hurt the beast awakened, growling, clawing its way out of him from within. Tossing the power of the serum aside for the bestial power surging through his veins, rippling his muscles, revealing itself in blue fur, blue skin, and menacing orange eyes. Bestial growls and pointed, dangerous teeth.
Though he could control himself in that form, he hated to don it at all.
Because it felt so good.
To cut loose, to embrace that power and unleash it as he chose.
Back when he had first changed into his blue form and thought it inescapable. When he had faced them in shame of his appearance and his desperate foolishness. And Erik had spoken. Mocking him, or so he thought.
"Never looked better, man."
The heady release of power and control in seizing the man's neck, squeezing it, watching his face turn red, watching him gasp for life. Knowing he could crush it out of him if he chose. Growling his threat, his promise, his power.
"Don't . . . mock me."
I'm not scared anymore. I can destroy you. You had better watch out for me now.
It had felt so good.
Growling his threat again at Alex, Havoc. He who reminded him so much of every bully who had made fun of him, caused him misery growing up. He who thought he was so powerful with his red power rings. Wouldn't even have been able to control it if not for Charles' instruction and his, Hank's, invention. Would've lived in fear, keeping it trapped inside himself. If not for Charles. If not for Hank.
Watch your step, man. I can rip you apart now.
He would not be bullied anymore. He would not be shamed. He was powerful now.
It had felt so good.
Flying the plane he had designed, knowing none of them could have made it this far without him. Being accepted, being part of a team. Fighting alongside his fellow mutants.
Fighting the red skinned beast who threatened his friends. Clamping claws to flesh, punching, hitting, slashing. Roaring.
Finally with a brutal hit to the heart, he'd defeated his enemy in his first physical combat.
And it had felt great.
The strength, the freedom, the power.
And because it had felt so good, he feared it. More intoxicating than anything else could ever be (except for perhaps her), he knew he could become addicted to it. To the power, to the control. And he could use that against people weaker than him. He could become what he hated.
He could indeed become a beast.
And so Hank McCoy chose to practice self-control. Practice serenity. Practice peace.
Because he wanted to live as a man, not a monster.
When the bad times threatened to consume him, when all the world seemed to draw back and abandon him to the isolation and darkness, he remembered.
Hank remembered back in early 1963 when Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was still open. Back when people still spoke to each other, when they still looked at each other. When he thought they might be doing some sort of good, helping those children who needed guidance, safe haven.
Back when Charles, though resigned to living life from a wheelchair, still had hope. Still had faith. Still tried to reach out to others.
He had been okay for a while. They all, even through their grief and loss, had been okay.
And then everything had changed again. Kennedy was killed and the whole world became more afraid, more angry. Erik was arrested and blamed for his death. And he and Charles had watched in horror along with the others.
Looking at each other, silent exchanges passing between the two of them.
Did he?
No, surely not. Surely it wasn't Erik. Why would he?
But could it be?
I don't know.
And what about her?
I don't know.
A terrible tragedy for humans and mutants alike. Kennedy, such a staunch proponent for racial equality. He was a beacon of hope in gaining a foothold for mutant rights as well.
And because of that terrible crime, the parents of their mutant pupils began to fear for their children. They took them away and that was when everyone scattered on the winds for fear of discovery, of scorn, of abuse.
And that was when everything had begun to spiral downward.
And Hank, genius scientist and powerful mutant, could not devise a way to stop it.
By the middle of 1964, they were all gone.
Only he and Charles remained.
And since Charles withdrew little by little, Hank was left to remember all by himself.
A little empowerment for our guy Hank. Because he does change, he does have more confidence by the time we get to him in DoFP.
The movie which I saw again by the way. What? The boys wanted to see it. I was just the chauffeur. *winks
He's more grown-up and mature. *she whispers 'and more attractive'
Ahem, moving right along . . .
Thanks to MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, The Heroine With 1000 Faces, lupoea2, Shanynde, and brigid1318 for hanging around to talk.
Thanks as well to cavco and Bubbles975 for adding your support to this story.
