The Institute building was a large, stately building with aesthetically pleasing contours that were intended to make one feel calm and relaxed when approaching it. The windows were deeply inset so one could see that the windows were reinforced; some with iron bars. The interior was even more inoffensive, with paint in soft, friendly colors, and inexpensive and functional furniture.
Anna saw none of this. She was in a state of agitation that bordered on lunatic. Hank had been found, and he was in here, somewhere. She burst through the doors and demanded to know where Dr. MacTaggart could be found, in a tone that was almost rude.
The nurses had obviously been advised to expect her, because rather than taking offense, their eyes softened and one of them immediately led her to the elevator and then downstairs to a closed conference room.
She thanked the woman as politely as she could muster, and without even knocking, strode into the room. Inside, Storm, Logan and Moira sat talking somberly around the large conference table. Their heads all snapped up when she entered.
"Where is he?" She cried.
"Warren," Storm said, speaking into the speakerphone. "Anna just got here. Logan and I will head back tonight."
"Right," came Warren's response. "Travel safely. Anna, good luck."
"Thanks, Warren," she barely managed to get out. "Where is he?" She repeated impatiently.
"He's here," Storm said, moving to embrace her. "He's safe."
Anna hugged her perfunctorily, irritated. "I have to see him."
Storm glanced over at Moira. The silence stretched out for several uncomfortable moments, and Anna's heart quailed with dread. At last Moira spoke.
"Dr. McCoy appears to be suffering from a delayed effect of the serum he injected himself with several years ago. The Legacy Virus has again triggered that secondary mutation and…"
Anna shook her head impatiently. "Yeah, the stuff that gave him the fur and turned him blue. I know all about that. Combined with the effects of the virus, it's changed his appearance even more and now he's gone feral. Where is he?"
They all stared at her in disbelief. They all knew about her strange knowledge of their past and possible futures, but it was still unnerving when she simply shrugged off earthshattering events as common knowledge.
Logan broke the silence. "She already knows, just take her."
Moira simply nodded and led the way back to the bank of elevators. As the doors slid closed, she produced a set of keys and inserted one into a lock beneath the bottom row of buttons. The button immediately above it lit up and Moira punched it. No one spoke as the elevator descended. That suited Anna right down to the ground. Though she was grateful to them all for finding Hank, all she could think of was getting to him as quickly as possible. Blessedly, they all seemed to understand and sympathize, so they gave her the space she needed and didn't try to distract her with unnecessary conversation.
The doors finally opened on a sterile, undecorated hallway that was a far cry from the friendly, warm atmosphere of the upper floors. Moira led the way down that hall, and through three separate, vault-like doors that required she swipe her ID card in order to pass.
Beyond the third door was a small, darkened room. It was furnished with a small table and a few chairs, a computer monitoring system, and a curtained window. Moira pulled a cord, and the curtain slid out of the way to reveal a window that looked into a brightly lit room.
Anna stepped cautiously to the window and peered intently through. The room was not large, but the ceiling was high, bright sunlight shone through tiny barred windows up near the ceiling. There had obviously been several pieces of furniture in the room. The bed has been stripped of all soft materials, as had the chair. The table, bed frame, and dresser had all been stacked in a far corner and made into a sort of cave. There was a tiny break between the pieces of furniture where the bundle of bed linens and a bit of the mattress could be seen. Her eyes searched the room, but she didn't see Hank.
"He's in there. You just can't see him amidst the jumble." Moira assured her. "He stays in there most of the time. He comes out at night for the food we leave for him, but otherwise he stays hidden."
Anna continued to stare thoughtfully into the room. After a long time, she straightened. "Dr. MacTaggart. I'm going to need to make a few phone calls, and then I need a shower, several sets of scrubs, a few basic toiletries, and two fresh dinner trays."
Moira blinked at her, puzzled. "Of course, you can use the phone in my office, but what do you need with the rest?"
"I'm going in to be with my husband."
They argued with her, of course. "It's not Hank in there," and "You don't know what you're doing," and so on. She only half listened as she planned for her absence from home, and the various other things that needed to be taken care of. They followed her up to Moira's office, telling her that they weren't about to let her in the room with him when she finally lost her temper.
"Won't let?" She demanded. "And just how are you going to stop me? That is my husband in that room down there. I think I know him a lot better than any of you do. I am in no danger!"
"But that's not Hank in there, Anna!" Storm said, taking her by the shoulders. "We've known him a lot longer than you have, and he still fought us tooth and nail when we caught up with him. We have been his family for decades and he didn't even recognize us. How do you think he's going to recognize you?"
"Ororo, he did recognize you. He knows who all of us are. He's in a primal state right now, but he is still aware of who he is. He feels a deep sense of shame for the way that he looks and the hand fate has dealt him, and he's acutely aware that it's his own fault his in this situation in the first place." She made a face and sat down in Moira's chair. "He's feeling sorry for himself, thinking that he's an animal, and so he's behaving like one. He's submerged himself in this persona as a way of hiding from the fact that he will never look human again."
"How can you possibly know all that?" Demanded Logan.
She gave him a long-suffering look. "I know how this chapter in his life works out. If we take a wait-and-see approach, it will take too long for him to finally work his way out of this. We need him now, not later. He won't hurt me. I promise you."
"If he's going to work this out on his own, why take the risk?" Storm asked. "If you go in there and get hurt, how do you think he will feel when he comes out of this and finds that it was him that hurt you? He loves you more than anything and something like that could put him right back where he is now."
"It's precisely because he loves me so much that I know that I'll be alright." She looked directly at Moira. "The only other person who could have gotten through to him was Charles, but with him gone…"
Moira's eyes widened and she went very pale. Anna cocked her head slightly to the side and raised an eyebrow to let her know that she was fully aware that Charles was still around.
The room settled into an uncomfortable silence. Anna looked each of them directly in the eye and waited for any further arguments. When no one spoke, she nodded and reached for the phone.
The heavy vault door closed behind her with a soft thud, and she could barely hear the nearly inaudible hiss as it sealed itself and locked down. It was late afternoon, and the sun was no longer shining through the high windows, but it was still bright enough that she could see the room clearly.
Anna stood, looking around and feeling moderately claustrophobic. The high ceiling helped to make the room feel bigger, but the four stark walls and the sealed vault door behind her made it feel as if she was in the bottom of a well.
To the right of the vault door was a curtained off area that she assumed was the bathroom. To the right of that was the one-sided mirror/window to the observation room, and a panel in the wall that appeared to be some sort of dumbwaiter. Below it lay a pile of trays and food dishes.
She stepped further into the room and looked around. From within the "cave" there came a faint rustle and a shadow of movement. She took a deep breath and noticed a strong scent of musk in the air. It reminded her of Hank after a workout, but also had an unfamiliar, wild tang to it. She just hoped there her own scent would be strong enough to counter his.
The dresser was backed up against the side of his shelter, but the drawers were facing outward. Hefting her stack of scrubs, bed linens and her bag of toiletries, she marched directly over and started putting things away.
A low growl from behind the dresser greeted her intrusion. She waited calmly for him to settle again.
"Hello Hank. It's good to see you again. I've missed you."
Silence.
She finished putting her things away and took her linens to the corner where the dumbwaiter panel sat. She quickly and quietly put together a bed and sat down with a book to wait for him to come to her.
As she read, her hair dried and she could smell her "stink" growing stronger and stronger. In the back of her mind she had silently wondered if time and constant use of the inhibitor hadn't dulled her ability to produce the pheromones. She smiled smugly to herself and settled back. It wouldn't be long now.
A quiet rustle caught her attention. She glanced casually up and caught sight of his eyes, glowing from the back of his little shelter. She smiled and unconcernedly went back to her book. The rustling came a little closer, but she chose not to look. The last thing she wanted to do was give him the impression that he was being studied.
Above the entrance, the camera whirred to life. It rotated and focused on the opening of Hank's cave. Hank flinched back from the opening and snarled angrily at it.
Anna growled with frustration. "Shut them off." She snapped. "Shut them all off now."
"Are you sure, Mrs. McCoy?" Asked Moira over the intercom. "What if you should be hurt?"
"I'll be fine. Please just do as I say. You're only upsetting him."
"Alright. But I will keep the intercom open, should you need anything."
"Dinner would be good."
"You've got it. Good luck." The camera rotated back into its original position and the light on it clicked off.
Anna sighed with irritation. She looked up into her husband's glowing eyes and spoke soothingly. "Don't be offended Hank. They're just doing what they can to help you, and they don't know that you're perfectly able to understand. They mean well."
His eyes narrowed and he sat back. She smiled for him and went back to reading.
A short while later, dinner was delivered via the dumbwaiter. Anna set the trays near her bedding and waited for Hank to join her. He gradually moved closer, hovering just inside his little shelter. The faint snuffling as he tested the air with his nose made her heart beat a little faster. There was no way he could miss her stink now.
The light fell partially across his face and she could see how much more feline his features had grown. Though she knew how far the mutation would change him, she was still surprised to see how quickly it had taken effect. She quickly covered her shock with a welcoming grin.
"Care to join me, Dr. McCoy?" She asked in the same, silly tone she had always used when they were first getting to know one another.
He withdrew slightly and she shrugged as if it didn't matter. "Suit yourself."
Without another glance at him, she picked up her tray and started eating. Her book lay open beside her and she read as she ate.
With growing restlessness, Hank inched his way out of his shelter and closer to her. She continued to pay him no mind as he crouched in front of her, seemingly ready for fight or flight.
His nose twitched continually as her scent filled the room. She could feel his body slowly relax and she glanced up at him.
"Bon appetit," She said with a negligent wave at his tray.
He devoured his dinner cautiously, watching her warily, his nose always testing the air. She marked her page and closed the book and turned her full attention on him.
Hank's fur had grown long and shabby, and was matted in several places. His long, mane-like hair was ragged and unkempt, and his normally manicured finger and toenails now appeared more claw-like.
"My love, you need a haircut."
His ears twitched toward her, and she could see understanding in his eyes. She closed her eyes and sighed with relief. He turned his face away and moved back toward his "cave."
"Wait," She said. "Come sit with me."
He stopped, his shoulders tense. He stood still for a moment, as if considering, then he let out a sigh, letting his shoulders droop dejectedly. He crouched and slid back into the shelter of his "Cave."
Anna tried for several days to get him to communicate with her. He watched her constantly, and after the first night, she woke to find that he'd laid a blanket over her as she slept. Her spirits soared. If he was aware enough to be concerned about her comfort, he was not as feral as they had all feared. Sure she knew that he wasn't, but seeing him had startled her, and shaken her confidence.
With a bright mood and irrepressible determination, she made herself comfortable and went about life in as normal a routine as could be managed in their current situation. She insisted that meals be taken together, and she talked to him constantly about what had been happening during his absence. She bathed daily, and maintained a neat, clean appearance. She sang, drew, read, and cleaned, even going so far as to yank out his soiled linens and replace them with clean bedding. The dumbwaiter saw near constant use between meals, toting away their dirty laundry and dishes, then bringing back the clean.
After several days, when he crept out of his enclosure, and sat with her to eat, he stared at her with resigned exasperation, seeming to realize that she wasn't going to leave. With a huff he settled in to eat and instead of slinking back to his cave, he sat for a time, watching her as she moved about the room, tidying up.
As she passed him, carrying a load of his dirty linens, he inhaled sharply. She stopped and looked down at him. His eyes were closed, and he growled deep in his chest. She unsuccessfully tried to hide a knowing smile as his eyes slid partially open to stare at her hungrily.
She laughed lightly and gently touched his face. He sighed and pressed his cheek against her palm, watching her with heavy-lidded eyes. She dropped the pile of linens and wrapped her arms around his neck. He recoiled only slightly, but allowed her to hold him. She broke away reluctantly and kissed his cheek.
"I love you, Hank."
He gazed into her eyes for several long moments, then nuzzled her face with reluctant affection. She giggled when his fur tickled her neck. His ears quirked as if to say that she was crazy, then he sighed and stretched out on the floor to watch her. She touched his face again, then gathered up her discarded laundry.
Over the next few days, Hank seemed more relaxed around her. He sat closer to her as they ate, and he followed her into the bathroom when she showered. The first time, she was surprised to step dripping from the bath to find him sitting just inside the door, staring at her. She yelped with surprise and scolded him for sneaking up on her. He continued to stare at her, his intent, golden eyes sliding up and down her body. She blushed, and hurriedly wrapped a towel around herself.
His ears twitched, giving him an amused expression. A peculiar rolling rumble burbled up from his belly. He was laughing!
Anna stuck her tongue out at him and strode out of the bathroom.
That night, as she kissed his face on the way to bed, he swung his arm under her legs and swept her up into his arms. She gave vent to a startled whoop and clung to him as he carried her into his cave. He settled her into his pile of cushions and bedclothes, then curled himself around her.
Overjoyed, she snuggled into his chest, curving herself against his still-familiar form. Her chest throbbed painfully and she held her breath against the strength of her own relief. She had been so frightened for him, despite knowing what was going on and where he could be found. Their home had seemed so empty and cold with him gone that she couldn't even sleep in their bed anymore. She sniffed back the tears that began to fall when she recalled sleeping on the couch and curling into the back of it just as she was curling into him now, just so she could sleep.
"Oh, Hank!" She gasped, clinging to his fur.
He responded to the quaking of her body by curling tighter around her, his legs intertwined with hers. She breathed deeply and before long, both were sound asleep.
The time following their first night together was filled with Anna's attempts to draw Hank into a conversation. He continued to refuse to speak, but he was attentive and affectionate. At times, he was downright playful.
When she spoke words of affection and love, he responded with a purr and a headbutt. Though she was pleased that they were becoming so close again, she was frustrated that he still refused to speak. They had been there for weeks, and she was getting really claustrophobic.
She gazed at him as he napped, curled up beside her. His coat was really looking ratty, and he needed a haircut badly. In all honesty, he looked like an animal. A wild animal at that.
Maybe that was the problem. It's hard to feel human when you know you don't look human. Her brow furrowed thoughtfully. She had brought his shaving bag with all of his grooming tools…
Originally, she had planned to let him clean himself up, thinking that the clean-up would be cleansing in a way. But he seemed to be happy as he was. Perhaps if she did the clean up for him, it would help bring him further out of his funk. The more she thought it over, the better she liked the idea. With a smile of satisfaction, she leaned back against him and waited for him to awake.
The bathroom floor was covered in a thick carpet of long, blue hair. A broom would not fit into the dumbwaiter, so she settled for kicking it into a large, hairy clump, and shoving it toward the wall. Throughout the procedure, Hank sat or stood patiently, his eyes half closed and a contented purr vibrating the floor beneath her feet.
She had brushed, cut, trimmed, clipped, filed and buffed, and finally brushed his hair, fur and nails until he looked just about normal again. She stepped back and scrutinized her work critically. Except for the concealing patch of fur she'd left long to "preserve his decency," she'd cut all of his fur nice and short, and left his hair just shorter than shoulder-length. She gazed admiringly at his muscular physique and felt a momentarily strong twinge of desire.
A few seconds later, his eyes popped open and he inhaled deeply. He growled hungrily and pulled her into the circle of his arms. He nuzzled her neck and pulled her hard against him. She shuddered with pleasure and took his face in her hands. She kissed his lips, not even noticing the difference in their shape or texture. He pulled back and nuzzled at her neck, nipping playfully.
Anna giggled. "I love you Hank." She breathed.
He groaned as he inhaled deeply again. He shuddered against her, and his hands grasped her clothes. She grasped his wrists firmly. "Not until you tell me that you love me, too."
He stood still, his body shaking with the heat of the moment. He sighed and crouched against the tub, sulking. Anna had to take several deep, calming breaths to soothe her disappointment. They stared silently at anything but each other for a long moment, the tension heavy in the air.
"Come on, Hank," She said softly, forcing a light tone. "Let's get you in the bath."
Without looking up at her, he climbed into the tub and crouched at the far end. She turned on the shower and tested the water. Hank liked his showers hot. His face crumpled and his ears flattened back against his head when the water first hit him.
Before long, clouds of steam filled the air, making her hair stick to her face and neck. She swiped at it absently and quickly lathered up his hair and fur, allowing him the time he needed to relax and sit back comfortably in the tub.
While he soaked, she hummed some of his favorite songs. He gradually relaxed and stretched out his legs – as far as the small tub would allow anyway – and lazily twitched his sodden toes in time with her song.
Suddenly, there he was. His features had changed dramatically, but she could see him in there. The only thing missing was his glasses and a fat book. She sat back on the edge of the tub and drank in the sight of him.
"I see you, Henry Phillip McCoy." She murmured happily.
She was standing in the living room, watching a storm rage outside. Behind her, she could hear the familiar sounds of His footsteps approaching. She smiled, closed her eyes, and leaned back against him with a sigh when he put his arms around her.
The thunder roared and the house shook. Hank squeezed her tighter when she jumped. His breath was hot against her neck, and she shivered despite his warmth. The brush of his lips on her neck sent bolts of electricity shooting throughout her body and she gasped with the painful pleasure of it.
Something tugged at her, and she groaned with frustration and tried to ignore it. He placed another teasing kiss on her neck and she sighed happily. There came another tug, and it jarred her from her pleasant reverie. Her limbs were suddenly tired and sluggish, and when she tried to speak, it came out muttered and incomprehensible. She suddenly felt tired and weak.
The third tug brought her awake, and she blinked fuzzily, disappointed that her dream had been interrupted. She turned her head, trying to remember what woke her when she felt Hank's lips on her shoulder.
The touch sent a violent, involuntary shudder through her already dream-aroused body, and she gasped hard. Encouraged by her reaction, Hank pulled at her top, trying to tug it down over her arms. Without thinking, she freed her arms and rolled to face him. She kissed his face and allowed her hands to roam hungrily over his chest, arms, and back.
He, too, slid his hands all over her body as he kissed her face and neck, making her gasp and groan. A low growl rumbled up from his chest, and he shuddered deliciously against her.
Anna couldn't help but smile. Ever since he'd discovered that she was sexually pliable in her sleep, he'd taken child-like delight in waking her with kisses and caresses in the wee hours of the morning. He said it was the only time that she was completely relaxed and unselfconscious in her reactions, and he absolutely loved it.
"Tell me you love me, Hank." She pleaded.
He responded with the naughty growl he knew turned her on, and rolled atop her.
Anna squirmed beneath him. "Please, Hank. I need to hear you say it."
His prehensile toes found the waistband of her PJ bottoms and tore them off. He made a purring noise and kissed her again. As he reached for her underwear, she seized his wrists.
"Not until you talk to me."
He froze for a long moment, then flipped his arms out of her grasp and seized her wrists, pinning them over her head. He crouched, bringing his agile toes up again.
"I mean it, Hank." She said with uncharacteristic steel. "You have to talk to me first."
Their eyes locked, and he laid back his ears in irritation. Then he was suddenly gone. A moment later, the "cave" shook, and there was a terrifying crash across the room. A hair-raising bellow of rage and frustration shattered the air, and Anna clapped her hands over her ears in shock.
The dresser was moved suddenly, followed by a horrendous crash as it smashed against the one-way mirror to the observation room. Anna Hastily threw on her top and scrambled out.
Hank was standing in the middle of the room, screaming his rage in a ragged animal snarl. For a moment, Anna was afraid, knowing the strength of his dark persona, and the terrible things it had done and would again do.
He picked up an unbroken drawer and hurled it against the door. More frightened of losing what headway she'd made than of him, Anna flew to his side.
"HANK! Please STOP!"
She felt something strike her chest, and the breath whooshed out of her lungs. She only had time to realize that she was in the air before she heard a terrible thudding sound in the back of her head, and the world seemed to spin away into blackness.
That smell! Her scent…everywhere! Can't escape. Have to get away. The smell is good. Too good. I want. I need. ANGER. FRUSTRATION. NEED!
He spread his fangs and roared. It felt good to give voice to his anger. Powerful. He lifted a large hunk of wood with one hand and smashed it to the ground. Yesssss. Power. Strength. Need.
She was small. Weak. She had need. Why did he let her stop him? He snarled and smashed something else, reveling in the ecstasy of his strength. I am strong. She is weak. I will take. How can she stop me?
But it was wrong. Why? Her scent calls to him. Touches him. Surrounds him. Gives him need. Why not take?
He shuddered away from the thought. He would not. She had been kind. She never smelt of anger or fear. She touched him in good ways. She kept his den smelling fresh and new, and always filled with her scent. She was good.
Where is she? Her voice was gone, and it gave him an empty feeling inside. He spun around, again taking pleasure in his strength and agility. He did not see her. His keen eyes searched the room and saw a strange pile of clothing against a far wall. No, not clothes. There is a hand, and a leg. They aren't moving.
He crept forward cautiously, instinctively knowing that something bad had happened. He crouched next to her and tentatively touched her limp hand. She didn't move.
NO!
The thought was clear, stunningly so, and filled with an awful awareness. He shook his head, dazed. His eyes fell on the…woman at his…feet with an awful realization dawning on his slowly reawakening mind. This was someone important to him. This was his… mate…no…his wife!
"Anna," he whispered, his voice ragged from being unused to speak. "Anna?"
He gently touched her face, struggling to focus. He wanted to pick her up and cradle her in his arms, but something told him not to. He had to do something.
"Help." He croaked weakly. "Help me!"
"Dr. McCoy?" asked a vaguely familiar and startled voice. He heard a faint metallic whirring sound and the still video cameras came back to life. One directly above him reoriented itself on him. "What happened?"
"Please," he croaked. "I hurt her." He choked as the weight of his guilt seized his chest, making him unable to breathe.
The voice was silent for several interminable moments. "I'm on my way down with a medical team."
Hank gasped for air. He wanted so badly to hold her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was. More than anything, he wanted to make her better. He knew that he knew how to make her better too, but his mind simply wouldn't focus. He wanted to rage and scream and cry all at once, but the severity of her need kept him rooted in reality, and he snuffed out those primal urges one by one.
Just as he was beginning to panic, the heavy vault door opened and a woman he knew, but could not name rushed in, followed by several others. "Dr. McCoy, please stand back." The woman commanded.
His heart pounding with worry, Hank fell back and sat crouched on his haunches, watching them quickly and efficiently brace Anna's neck and back and place her on a stretcher. The welter of voices was confusing, though he felt as if he should understand what they were saying. He could feel anger and a violent urge building up inside him, but the sight of Anna limp and unmoving held him, and he clung to that awful image to keep him in the here and now.
As they wheeled her out, he moved to follow. The woman stopped him, and several large orderlies with glowing wands in hand blocked his path. "I'm sorry Dr. McCoy, but you have to remain here."
"Anna," He said, beginning to panic again.
"She'll be alright. But you have to remain confined until we know for sure that you're truly back with us. I know you need to be with her right now, but please understand that I have my other patients to think about as well. I can't risk you having a relapse out in the general population."
Hank wanted to argue, but he knew she was right. If he could hurt Anna, he could hurt anyone. His heart wilted within him and he sank to the floor in tears. The woman spoke quietly to the men behind her, and they left the room.
She crouched down in front of him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "She'll be alright, Dr. McCoy. It looks like she just bumped her head a good one." She paused. "She'll be wanting to see you as soon as she's awake." She squeezed his shoulder bracingly. "Try to stay with us, Hank."
He looked up into her eyes to see that she was smiling encouragingly. "Moira," he said, suddenly remembering. "Thank you, Moira."
She nodded and squeezed his shoulder again before standing up and hurrying out. He watched her go, and could feel the need to remain "human" slipping away with her. His breath quickened, and his heart pounded in his chest. A terrible, dark fury swept over him, leaving him gasping and mewling on the floor like a wounded animal.
"No," he panted. "Anna…I have to..." A sharp, wild urge to lash out, to break things seized him. He pressed his forehead against the cold floor and struggled to maintain his sanity. "For Anna," he whispered. "I have to know she's alright."
He lay on the floor, oblivious to the passing of time as he chanted her name over and over again, battling constantly to suppress his feral instincts. He thought back over the last few weeks, surprised at how clearly he could remember them. With a start, he realized that the reason his memory was so clear is that he wasn't schizophrenic, he was deliberately sinking himself into a feral persona. All that had occurred was a shift in his thinking, and in that realization he found the ability to readjust his thinking and regain his unfamiliar "human" mind.
He sat up and gazed around his cell. His refocused mind took in the disarray, and his heart shriveled within him. Seeing the condition of the room nearly tipped him back over the edge, and he found himself scrabbling to hold on to the precarious perch he'd so recently obtained.
Angry at himself, Hank fell upon his den – he shuddered inwardly at the word – and quickly dismantled it, setting each and every piece in its proper place. The remaining intact furniture was almost weightless to him, and he had to resist the swell of primal joy that rose within him as he marveled at his own strength.
Furniture righted, he moved about the room cleaning up the shattered remains of the dresser and what looked to be a small table from around the room. He shuddered at the memory of the sheer rage he had felt, simply because…
The memory struck him like a kick to the gut, and he had to fight to breathe. The awful memory of what he had been capable of doing to…her…he felt his gorge rising. As the guilt rose up within him, he could feel his grip on reality growing tenuous and further and further out of his grasp.
"Antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, rhenium, nickel, neodymium, neptunium, geranium, iron, americium, ruthenium," He muttered, squeezing his eyes shut in concentration. "Uranium, europium, zirconium…"
The elements were followed by listing all 50 states and their capitals, and then by the countries of the world. Then he recited the Declaration of Independence, Bill of Rights, and the Magna Carta. The mental and verbal exercise succeeded in helping him to maintain his temper, and he was able to finish his cleanup.
That chore complete, he stared around the room, bewildered as to what to do next. His eyes fell upon a stack of books in one corner but he immediately dismissed the idea. He was too keyed up to read, and none of them were of the caliber necessary to interest and distract him.
Hank paces impatiently as he waits for word. He gradually becomes aware of his surroundings. He is disgusted by his own behavior, and several times has to stop to calm himself down. He begins by tearing down his "Cave," and reordering the room as it should be. He then decides to clean himself up. Anna deserves at the very least that much. He finds his shaving bag in the bathroom, and grooms himself, feeling her absence like a terrible weight around his heart. As he steps out of the shower, he realizes that he's been running around naked in front of everyone. He comes out of the bathroom, holding towels around himself and hears the dumbwaiter. In it is a clean set of scrubs , some socks, and a tray of food.
As he is dressing, Moira tells him that Anna's X-rays show that she is suffering from a concussion, but other than that she should be alright. He is so grateful, all he can do is gasp his thanks. She tells him to call out if he needs anything, and she'll see about getting him upstairs to see his wife.
The elevator doors creaked open and he blinked furiously against the bright glare of the hospital's fluorescent lighting. Here the hospital smell was sharp and cutting. The smell of the powerful disinfectant used to sterilize everything razed his nose and lungs with every breath. As he stepped off the elevator, he came face-to-face with a dozen security officers, armed with Tasers.
His ears laid back automatically; he could smell their tension and hostility. A fleeting, arrogant thought flashed through his mind, and he couldn't quite hold back the feral grin. How easy it would be to take them all down…
He shook himself and shuddered against the force of that thought.
"Are you alright, Dr. McCoy?"
He opened his eyes and saw Moira coming out of a room a few yards away. He nodded and took another scorching breath.
"Yes, thank you, Moira. I'm just…a little overwhelmed." He took another deep breath and winced.
She gave him a sympathetic half-smile and beckoned him into the room she'd just come from.
He followed tentatively and ducked through the doorway. The room was small to begin with, and it felt positively tiny to him. The window was open, and a fresh ocean breeze wafted in, cleansing the room of the harsh chemical hospital smell.
The bed was situated beside the window, and looking very small and fragile, Anna lay propped up on several pillows. A fresh wave of guilt threatened to choke him, but he grimly stifled the feeling and padded softly to her bedside.
Moira spoke softly to the guards and firmly shut them out of the room. Hank gently took his wife's little hand in his and unconsciously felt for her pulse. "Has she regained consciousness yet?"
"Briefly, when we were bringing her to her room after x-ray. She was a little groggy but wanted to see you immediately. She was only awake for a few minutes before lapsing back into unconsciousness again." Moira touched his shoulder consolingly. "It's a simple concussion, Hank. She really will be fine."
Hank bowed his head under the weight of relief, guilt, and remorse that swept over him, and he wept softly. Moira stroked his back once and then left to give him some privacy.
He sat for hours at her bedside, holding her hand and waiting patiently for her to wake. Finally, she stirred when he gently kissed her limp hand, and her fingers twitched, weakly grasping his hand.
"Hank." She breathed.
"I'm here, Anna." He said softly through the lump in his throat.
Her brow furrowed and her eyes opened slowly. She blinked as her eyes tried to focus on him, and then gave up with a groan.
"Somebody tell the room to stop spinning," She grumbled uncomfortably.
"Anna," he choked, "I'm so sorry…"
She clumsily reached out and tried to lay her hand over his mouth. "Shhhh…" She whispered. "Just kiss me and make it better." She mumbled groggily.
For several days he watched over her carefully. Somehow, caring for her helped him to regain himself, and the old physician's routine came back to him automatically. With borrowed tools from the hospital, he quickly took over the supervision of her care. Anna recovered quickly, with occasional bouts of vertigo, and after the fourth day, he was forced to relent and let her get out of bed for more than just a bathroom break.
She climbed gratefully out of bed and under his watchful eye showered and freshened up. With a distasteful glare at the bed she deliberately crossed the room to dry and brush her hair. Satisfied that she would be there for a few minutes, he hurried into the bathroom and pulled her bottle of inhibitor out of her bag of toiletries and delivered it to her.
She distractedly took the bottle and tucked it between her leg and the arm of the chair. "Later," she said as she carefully stood and took his arm. "I need to get out of this room!"
He chuckled and reached for a robe.
They walked slowly through the hallways and into the sunroom where she closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sunlight with a happy smile. She leaned into him and made a contented smile. "Almost perfect," she mumbled. "The only thing that would make this better is if we were home."
"Home," he rumbled softly. "It's been a long time."
"Too long," She agreed fervently.
"Anna," He began uncomfortably.
"I know what you're going to say, Hank." She said without opening her eyes. "Don't."
"I…"
"Stop." She growled, facing him squarely. "Just stop it. It's done and over with, and I'm not leaving here without you!"
"Look at me, Anna!" He burst out. "I'm not even human anymore! How can I even think of leaving here when I could lose my grip on reality at the slightest provocation?"
"It won't happen again," She insisted.
"Who is to say it won't?" He demanded, exasperated. "If I could hurt you…" His voice failed him and he collapsed into a chair, weeping in remorse. "I'm an animal, Anna! I cannot condemn you to a life full of hatred and humiliation because of me!"
She stepped toward him and swayed dangerously. He flew out of his chair reflexively and caught her as she fell. She had her eyes squeezed shut and her fingers pressed to her temples. "Hank," She said in a sick voice. "You're being melodramatic." She winced and gingerly opened her eyes. "Let's go back to the room, I have something to show you."
More worried about her condition, he decided to stop arguing for the time being. He stood and carried her out of the sunroom.
"Hank," She protested. "I'm alright now. I can walk, you know."
He grunted noncommittally and carried her anyway. As they approached her room, she passed a weary hand over her eyes with a sigh. "I'm really tired. Do you think we can get them to leave me alone for a few hours?"
Hank sat her down on her freshly made bed and hurriedly went to the nurse's station to ask that she not be disturbed for a while. When he came back, he found her rummaging through her suitcase. As he closed the door she turned to him with a familiar folder in her hands.
"When we were first married, I gave you this, and told you that one day I would have you break the seal and open it."
He smiled, despite his mood and took the folder from her. "I remember. You made such a fuss about sealing it in my presence…you said something about it being about the future."
She smiled, pleased. "Open it, please."
Intrigued, he used his thumbnail to tear open the seal. Inside he found several of Anna's drawings. He frowned, unsure at first as to what he was looking at, and then it hit him. They were all done with meticulous attention to detail, colored and shaded with the utmost care. They were all drawings of himself; they were all drawings of him in his current state. He thumbed through them incredulously, unable to believe how closely they resembled him as he was at that very moment.
He stared up at Anna in stunned disbelief. "You…you knew all along…"
She smiled smugly. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." She lifted her chin triumphantly. "I still had the hots for you even after your mutation took this turn. She glanced at the pages in his hand. "Actually, my favorites are on the last page."
He flipped slowly through the drawings, astounded by the detail in her work. His breath caught in his chest when he turned to the last page. "Oh, my."
The last page was covered in pencil sketches of the two of them in intimate poses. He swallowed hard and could feel his face burning. The images she had drawn were compelling and his body was responding automatically. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and breathed in a familiar and irresistible scent.
He slowly raised his eyes and watched as Anna slowly pulled her hospital gown over her head and stood naked in front of him. He stared at her, his conscience warring with his burning desire for her.
He spotted the bottle of inhibitor still sitting on the chair and he growled at her. "Cheater." He accused.
She sauntered over to him and pressed herself against him. "Just hedging my bets a little." She breathed as she stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. The folder and its contents fell forgotten to the floor. Unable to resist, he laid his hands on her bare back and kissed her.
"I shouldn't…" He murmured against her lips
"Henry," She panted. "Shut up and put out."
He couldn't help but to laugh and give in.
The cool ocean breeze blew in through her open windows, bringing a fresh, clean scent and cooling her sweating brow. She blew absently at a stray lock of her hair that kept falling into her face as she meticulously perused everything found at Gordon Lefferts' hidden laboratory. It seemed like a futile endeavor, but she knew that there had to be something, anything, here that would give her a hint as to what happened to him.
She cleared her throat and sat back in her chair, throwing the notebook she'd been reading into the box of rubbish at her feet. Nothing!
"Why is it so bloody hot in here?" She groaned, passing a hand across her forehead. She rose and pulled off her lab coat. She was surprised to find her shirt soaked in several places and sticking to her. "What on earth?"
She glanced at her watch. There was still two hours left before she was due back at the research lab. Plenty of time for a shower and a change of clothes.
She cleared her scratchy throat again, noticing for the first time how uncomfortable it was to swallow. "Great," She muttered darkly. "A cold. Just what I need right now." She hurried into her private restroom, pulling off her sweaty clothes as she went. She rummaged through her medicine cabinet and popped a thermometer into her mouth while she started her shower.
She sat on the bog, enjoying the cooler air on her heated skin. The thermometer beeped and she glanced at it.
"102.4! Good lord!" The flu then. Marvelous. She hunted through her cabinet and pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen and popped a couple. She climbed gratefully into the shower and let the cool water wash over her. She scrubbed herself thoroughly but quickly and toweled off, noticing the ache developing in her neck and back. She massaged her neck and prayed that the ibuprofen would kick in soon.
She rubbed a towel across the mirror to clear the fog and frowned at her reflection. There was a small shadow on her cheek that she hadn't noticed before. She leaned in for a closer look and noticed a dark shadow across her collarbone.
"No," she breathed, going suddenly cold. She knew these symptoms. She swallowed hard, the scratchiness of her throat suddenly much more ominous than it had been a quarter of an hour ago.