14. Our Day Will Come
Irene
In approximately two minutes, Hank McCoy will inject himself with an untested, experimental serum designed to suppress or even reverse the physical manifestations of our mutation. It will, in fact, have the opposite effect. The syringe will fall to the floor, and shatter. He will collapse in unbearable pain. His screams will draw the residents of the school to the laboratory, where they will watch in horror and concern as a thick pelt of fur erupts from Hank's body, as his eyes turn yellow and his canine teeth extend into fangs and his fingernails harden and sharpen into claws. He will weep from the pain and the shame. His friends will help him to bed – gingerly, for fear of hurting him and for fear of what he has just made himself. Nurse Voght will examine and watch over him.
In approximately ten minutes, Charles Xavier will telepathically summon all of the faculty and staff members to his study for an emergency meeting. We will gather in robes, nightgowns, and pajamas. Renata and I have our snow boots on, for our walk across the lawn. We will leave dirty slush on the floor.
Moira will blame herself for leaving Hank alone in the lab. She will offer to take full responsibility, and suggest that she call his parents immediately to inform them of what has happened.
Charles will insist that no one call the parents; it is too sensitive, he will say, for a telephone call. He and Hank will fly back to Illinois to tell them in person at the next possible opportunity. The rest of the teachers will express bafflement as to why Charles would not want the McCoys to know as soon as possible. They do not yet know who is listening on the other end of the line. Only Charles and I know, and Charles never tells anyone anything, and I know that I will not say anything about it, either. So I do not.
In fact, in that meeting I will say ten words and ten words only. I will say them after Nurse Voght has assured us that Hank will be fine, that the serum seems only to have exaggerated his mutation. I will say them immediately after Moira explains that the serum appears to either accelerate the normal course of mutation or draw out secondary mutations that had previously lain dormant.
I will say those ten words quietly, almost under my breath, and only Max will hear them, as he will be sitting at my left. The words will be, "I wonder what would happen if a non-Mutant was injected?" Max will look at me, and his thoughts will start to turn. We will have many conversations, Max and Renata and I. But at this point, my words will only have stirred an idea. He will return his gaze to the front of the room, back to Charles, but his mind will be elsewhere.
In approximately twenty minutes, Hank will need comfort and find none. His friends will have gone to bed and his roommate, Pietro, will not know what to say to him. Hank will walk into the hall and pick up the receiver on the upstairs telephone. He will hear a click as the operator connects him to his parents, and another click shortly thereafter.
His parents will be quite upset, but they will eventually accept him. In that moment, though, they will only be upset. They will be upset at Charles and Moira and the strangeness of mutation and a changing world, but Hank will think that they are upset at him. Hank will cry, alone, in the second-floor hallway.
In approximately thirty minutes, the faculty meeting will end. Max will go upstairs to the boys' wing and find Hank returned to his bed. He will decide not to wake him; Charles will talk to him tomorrow morning about their impending trip back to Illinois.
Let him sleep, Max will think. But Hank will not be sleeping. He will be speaking telepathically with Jean Grey, who will assure him that he is not a monster. He will not believe her. She will not entirely believe herself.
Renata and I will walk back through the crisp winter night to our little cottage. She will wonder aloud how many vials of that serum remain, and if Moira will destroy them all now. I will tell her: three and no.
And here's where things get interesting.