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

Or the DVD. Yet. Boo.

The Story Left Untold

Hello!

Okay, I'm having a little derailment here. After some honest discussion and brain explosions (thank you, my brigid1318, for that), I'm doing something different. I'm going crazy AU and reversing back into the previous chapter to do it.

The consideration is: what if Hank and Raven's discussion in chapter 3 had gone a little differently?

So we're going back to the last chapter when Hank ticked her off by using her 'slave name'. Remember X-Men: Last Stand? And the CinemaSins guy? Heh heh. So anyway, she's mad (again) but this time Hank . . . oomph, spoilers!

Now, just to be clear, there is no OC Hope in this reality. I want to explore this idea but not at the cost of Hank abandoning (in his mind, cheating on) his relationship with Hope. So she doesn't exist here. I know, I'll miss her too, but give this a shot, yeah?

And of course, tell me what you think. Please.

That goes for you too, DaniNatureGirl313. Especially after your intelligent insights of the last chapter which play into this chapter. :)

Alrighty, here we go.


Chapter 4: Sliding Doors

"Raven . . ." Hank began.

Then those sky blue eyes iced over again and the moment was gone.

"That's not my name anymore, Hank."

And she stood, withdrawn and reserved once more.

And walked away.

He had angered her again.

She was leaving. Again.

She was always leaving.

And he could not stop her.

My life consists of her walking away from me.

But maybe he could.

There was only one thing that would do it.

"Mystique . . ."

She paused and looked back, her suspicious eyes alert and warily curious.

He had never said that name before.

It felt strange upon his lips.

"I'm sorry," he said simply.

She looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable.

Then she started to turn away again.

"I never should have pushed you," he called out. "I never should have insulted the beauty of your blue form."

She remained as still as a frozen statue. Nothing moved. Not even her eyes. When she spoke, only her lips moved.

"No, you shouldn't have," she stated slowly." I would have stayed with you, you know. I would have been patient, I think. If you had only tried to accept me as I was."

He nodded.

"I know that now. I'm sorry."

He felt a dim loosening in his chest, followed by a formless sense of peace.

She nodded her acceptance and before she could turn away from him once more, he spoke again.

"Everything you are, then and now, is perfect."

She ghosted a crooked smile.

"Now you're just parroting my own words back to me."

He shrugged.

"It doesn't make them any less true."

She searched his marred soul with her eyes and he let her.

"Say something original," she challenged gently.

He didn't know what he was going to say. And then something deep within him slipped and he spoke earnestly.

"Take me with you."

Her sky blue eyes blinked in surprise. She chuckled in derision.

"No, Hank. I don't think so."

That locked safe full of his trapped emotions began springing little emotional leaks into the deep well pools of his soul. He could feel them reaching out to him, wrapping their tiny tendrils of illogical yearning all through his nerves and synapses.

The first sensation was a wilting despondency.

But . . . why?

Followed by a soul killing apathy.

No, I guess not. You've got a mustached scientist to kill and Charles the lush requires my presence to enable him.

Stomped underfoot by seething rage.

What?! Willing to follow dear old Erik to the grave but won't give me one single chance?!

When he spoke, his words were surprisingly calm and controlled in his pleadings.

"Please, let me come with you. I can't take it here anymore. It's miserable and insufferable. I've got to get away before I kill your brother or myself."

This time she did laugh a little and it was reminiscent of the woman whose sharp wit and honestly open demeanor had appealed to him in the first place.

"Figured Charles out then?"

Hank nodded urgently. His entire body felt like it was vibrating from within.

"He's worse now since . . . everything. I don't recognize him anymore. And I'm tired of trying to help him. To pacify him. I'm just . . . tired," he confessed.

Compassion and understanding flitted through the lovely blond form momentarily before she closed herself off again.

"I'm sorry you're unhappy and frustrated, Hank. Really I am. But the answer is no. You're not ready. You're not prepared."

Indignation shot to the surface and his face strained, his eyes shooting electric blue daggers at her.

"Were you? When you went with Erik that day on the beach? I saw you. You were scared and timid and weak. He only took you because he wanted you, because he took pity on you and gave you a chance!"

Please give me a chance!

She crossed her arms, becoming visibly ruffled. But also, was there a flicker of interest in this new aspect of him she was witnessing?

"Yes, but I don't want you," she retaliated brusquely.

Ouch. But fine.

He suspected she might just be trying to drive him away for her own reasons.

"I don't care about that right now. I just need to get away!"

Now it was her turn to shrug.

"So go. Nobody's stopping you. Leave."

He shook his head in dismay.

"Not alone. I've been alone. I don't want to be alone anymore. Please."

She seemed to consider, then shook her head.

"No. You're not ready, Hank. Want to know why? 'Cause you still flinch when I do this . . ."

And she morphed into her natural blue form.

Do not look away. Don't you dare. This is the moment to prove to her that you are sincere.

And so he did not flinch and cast his gaze away.

He looked straight at her.

Starting with her toes. Working slowly up her scaly naked body.

Letting her see him see.

Ending in her yellow eyes.

Then he spoke while holding her gaze.

"I look away now because I want to show respect for you as a person, not just for your body. I look away because you are primal in this form. And it calls to me. To my beast. I look away because it makes me want you."

There, I said it. That's the most honest I've been in a long time. Maybe ever.

Her blue face was inscrutable.

And then she morphed back into her blond form.

"But you'd still prefer me like this."

A statement, not a question.

Hank shook his head. Gestured vaguely outward with his hands.

And spoke unreservedly once more.

"Only because it's the first form I saw you in. The first time I saw you smile. At me. And my monkey feet. The first time I saw you laugh. You said I was 'amazing'. Nobody had ever said that to me before. And you looked like that when you did it. When you almost kissed me. And when you defended me against Alex. When you sat on my lap. All those times, you looked like that. "

She pressed her lips together in a fine line. He continued.

"I . . . imprinted on that version of you."

She waited.

"And I was young and stupid. And I'm sorry."

She watched him. Then spoke adamantly.

"I'm not that girl anymore, Hank."

He shrugged.

"I'm not that guy."

She squinted her eyes at him. He waited.

"But the answer is still no."

He felt like throwing her against a wall. His hands clenched. His teeth clenched.

He waited.

She spoke.

"You haven't accepted yourself, Hank. You still hide."

Grrr . . .

He growled deep in his chest. It was the voice of the Beast. The one he tried so hard to control.

"That's not all of me! It's just part! I wasn't this to start! My miscalculation enhanced my cells! I was only monkey toed and smart. Not hairy and blue! It's just one part!"

She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head up haughtily.

"So accept that one part."

And there it was. Either he would change and leave or remain the same and stay.

It was all him now.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, gathering his courage. Took off his glasses, and set them on the table.

Looked at her, her waiting expectantly.

Held that intense gaze.

Okay, Beast. Come on.

Grrr . . .

No, I will not raise a curtain. You're not on stage. Just do it!

And he did, growling and stretching a little at the sudden flow of strength and power and freedom.

The transformation complete, Hank McCoy, the Beast, lay his orange eyed gaze upon her.

Raven, Mystique.

She smiled, truly smiled, this time. And when she spoke, the smile was in her eyes as well.

"Perfection."