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 10: PBS and Quantum Physics

Hank led them to his favorite spot in the entire house. Well, besides his lab.

His media room.

He opened the door and walked inside, talking more rapidly than usal.

"This is the system I designed to record any news about Paris. Over all three networks. And PBS."

It was one of the smaller rooms in the manor. Cramped with carefully selected equipment and organized for maximum efficiency. Several desks pushed neatly together to create the maximum amount of available space. A television monitor for each station. NBC, CBS, ABC. And PBS, of course. That was the newest. Stacks of visual and audio recording equipment. Carefully bundled cables, metal shelving holding various equipment. A fan to cool him off when all the energy output proved a little too warming. Sets of control panels, even a modified typewriter to script out dialogue and information.

Cool, isn't it? Just don't touch anything. And don't sit in my chair. That's my spot.

He moved around quickly, not taking his usual time to enjoy and appreciate his handiwork. He settled himself comfortably in his chair. Behind him, the seated Charles and the grim Logan looked around at Hank's technological media masterpiece.

"All three? Wow."

Logan sounded slightly sarcastic.

"And PBS," Hank emphasized.

Logan threw him a unimpressed look.

Why? How many do you have in the future? Do you have four? Ooh, maybe five? What do you put on all of them? Oh just please not more 'Hee-Haw'. I can only take so much and I think I've already reached my quota.

Hank mentally shook himself and focused on the task at hand.

"Look what I found."

He flipped a switch on the nearest screen.

A serious-looking newscaster appeared and began speaking, right where Hank had paused him.

". . . in front of the White House, the president will make his announcement . . ."

Flashing footage of various officials along with the diminutive scientist, Bolivar Trask. Him who Raven was so adamant to kill.

Hank froze the screen . . .

Look, not only can I record television, I can pause it. Rewind it. Play it back. Fast forward. Ahem, anyway . . .

. . . and turned to the concerned men behind him.

Charles spoke first.

"If she kills Trask at an event like that with the whole world watching . . ."

Charles trailed off, the implications clear. Logan finished his own thought aloud.

". . . then I came a long way for nothing."

Hank didn't want to say it. He hated to say it. He'd rather relax and watch Star Trek. Even if Kirk's vocal patterns were irritating and Spock's eyebrows made him rub his own thoughtfully.

Still, it has to be said.

"And there's more bad news," he confessed. "I heard in a report that they found traces of her blood in Paris."

So it may already be too late. Unless by chance it's actually Erik's blood. Pretty sure I beat some out of him.

"For all we know, they already have her DNA."

And those amazing leukocytes.

"Which is all they need . . ."

Logan grimly finished the sentence for him.

". . . to create the Sentinels of the future."

The mood in the room was dark. Not even television Scotty (I'm giving her all she's got, Cap'n!) could lighten it with his enthusiasm.

Hank sighed, clasping his long, thin fingers together.

Better say it all and be done with it. Go on, McCoy.

"There's a theory in quantum physics. That time is immutable."

How to explain it to nonscientists?

"It's like a river. You could throw a pebble into it, create a ripple. But the current always corrects itself. No matter what you do, the river just keeps flowing in the same direction."

Hey, not too bad. Maybe I should be a teacher when this is all over. If I'm not dead.

"What are you trying to say?"

Okay, maybe not.

Hank McCoy considered himself to be a logical, cool-headed scientist. And though his heart was as big as anyone else's, he still had to think rationally. No matter how much he hated it.

And so he spoke. Words he loathed to speak but must nevertheless

"What I'm saying is, what if the war is inevitable? What if she's meant to kill Trask? What if this is just simply who she is?"

I'm sorry, Raven. I'm sorry, Hope. But I just can't run around on blind faith anymore.

Charles seemed to consider this and then replied with all the peace and belief of that Zen master the Beatles had purportedly been hanging out with.

"Just because someone stumbles and loses their path, doesn't mean they're lost forever."

This was the voice and reasoning of a man who always chose to look for and believe in the inherent good and possibility of others. Always ready to try to help. Leader of the X-Men. Founder of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

This was the man he'd follow anywhere, do anything for. This was the man who could change the world. This was a good man.

The man for whom Hank had been searching for ten long, embittering years.

This was Professor Charles Xavier.

"No. I don't believe that theory, Hank. I cannot believe that is who she is."

Hank McCoy looked at the resolute man in the chair before him.

Very pretty words. I'm glad to hear them. Now where have you been the last ten years? And what do you plan to do now?

Then Professor X gave his directive.

"Ready the plane. We're going to Washington."

Hank readied the plane as instructed. And then since the event was two days in the future and he was exhausted, he withdrew to himself for a while. He fed his hungry body, showered, and listened to his churning mind that never seemed to slow down in its rapid machinations.

Except sometimes when he was with her.

But for now, without her, his thoughts ran rampant.

Where was Erik?

And what was he planning?

Where was Raven?

How were they going to stop her from killing Trask?

Raven, who could disguise herself as anyone she chose. Raven, who could not see that her well-intentioned actions were setting the entire world on a path of destruction that it could never recover from.

How could they, the tiny pebbles, really change the flow of the powerful river of annihilation that seemed to surge onward into the unknown future?

Human and mutant kind already used up resources at an alarming rate. And the planet only had so much to offer up as collateral. Did it really need the brutal force of shape-shifting sentinels and an interspecies war to help it along?

Before he could become paralyzed with the grim possibility of all that might be, Hank forced himself to rest for a few hours.

He slept surprisingly well considering he might die tomorrow and never see his orange toenailed Hope again.

The plane ride to Washington the next day was much smoother than the previous one to Paris.

Which was good.

Because Hank suspected they were heading straight into war.

And he didn't want to be.

Welcome back, Charles! We've been waiting ever so (not) patiently for you, buddy! Yay!

A bit of a lighter chapter here (some of it anyway) and I'm not apologizing for that. We really needed an emo break. Well, I did. :)

The Hee-Haw snipe was for my brigid1318. There you go, sweetie. Somebody just blowed up a cow, I know. Grit your teeth and you and me and Hank and R will all get through it together, okay? I promise. *group high five!

Yeah, Star Trek was playing on one of Hank's televisions so I had to throw that in there. And even though it's not really my thing, Zachary Quinto (Sylar!) in the new one changed my mind. A little.

Of course I had to do the BBT 'that's my spot' joke. We quote it in my house all the time. My 9 year says it and even makes up different knocks. Plus, the media room is totally Hank's domain, right? ;)

Thanks to brigid1318, lol, Mog161, Shanynde, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, lupoea2, and theFGnat for continuing to so loyally review. I am most grateful to you and everyone who is choosing to read this story.

Thanks to Pazithia . Gallifreya for adding your support to this tale as well.