I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.
Or the DVD. Yet. Boo.
The Story Left Untold
Chapter 5: Conversations on the Road
"Just so you know, Hank. I'm still planning on killing Trask."
He didn't flinch. Or grimace. Or react at all.
The old Hank might have, at least on inside, but this new Hank couldn't allow himself to do that. She'd dump him on the side of the road without a second thought if she suspected he were going to try to abort her self-assigned mission.
Instead, he silently watched the road unwind before them. He had offered to fly them in Charles' jet (since he was going AWOL anyway, might as well go in style) but she had insisted they stay low-key.
They had walked straight out of Xavier Manor, gotten into Raven's rental car . . .
Let Mr. Telepathy and Wolfy the Future Man figure it out. I'm all out of cares to give, man.
. . . and driven off down the driveway.
Hank had not looked back.
Ten long years and I'm not going to turn into salt now.
At the end of the long driveway, Raven had stopped the car.
"Hank?"
He'd been staring blindly at the trees, the sun, the clouds, everything.
It had seemed too bright, too flashing, too surreal.
And exhilarating.
At her voice, he had turned and looked at her. Back to blond.
"Yeah?"
Her blue eyes had flashed with a brief glint of amusement.
"I'm glad you're embracing your mutant side, but we're about to drive onto a main road. You might want to be human looking. I don't want to scare other drivers and have a wreck. We don't have swift mutant healing abilities."
Well, on a cellular level, technically, we do. See, your leukocytes . . .
Then he had decided he did not care not to lecture himself or her at that moment.
So he had let it go.
And it had felt . . . good.
To let go. To relax. To let someone else take the reins.
"Oh, okay," he had replied easily.
And the Beast, grumbling a little, had drained away.
Hank had reached into his shirt pocket and put on his glasses.
Now they were here.
Driving down the road away from everything and everybody he had become accustomed to for the last ten years.
He couldn't say he was enjoying himself.
Not exactly.
Because he was too numb for any type of emotion.
But he was strangely relaxed.
Calm.
At ease.
The woman beside him, however, was growing ever more tense and defensive by the second.
Though he hadn't said or done anything at all but sit there.
"And don't try to stop me," she insisted, tossing him a glare.
He shook his head.
"Hank?"
He resolutely kept his eyes trained on the road.
"Yeah?"
But he could still see her in his peripheral. She seemed unnerved by his silence, his lack of response to her declarations.
I kind of enjoy watching her be the one to squirm for once.
Finally she spoke, her questioning voice carrying a slight taunt that reminded him of who she used to be.
"Aren't you going to try to stop me? Isn't that what you do?"
He made a neutral face and shrugged.
"Would it help?"
She set her jaw firmly, hands tightening a little on the steering wheel.
"No."
He nodded his consensus.
"Then no."
She stayed silent next to him. He watched the road.
"But you still don't want me to."
She was definitely edging now, attempting to feel him out . . .
Ah, go ahead and feel me then. Since I've apparently lost my mind anyway . . .
And he was definitely enjoying her discomfort. If he could have felt anything anyway. As it was, his only sensation was a dimly shell-shocked disorientation.
I'm nearly thirty and I've suddenly run away from home with a beautiful, dangerous woman. Charles is going to be so mad at me.
He almost grinned but it would have cost too much effort.
So he didn't.
But he did find words to express himself.
It seemed to be getting easier the more he did it.
Or maybe he just wasn't concerned as much anymore about what he said.
"What I want or don't want doesn't matter. Time is immutable and there's nothing I can do to change whatever is going to happen."
She seemed taken aback by his indifferent response.
"But you do want to me to spare him. I can tell."
She slowed the car just as he suspected she would, guiding it over toward the shoulder of the road.
Stopped.
Switched off the ignition and turned to him in the passenger seat.
Took a deep breath and spoke once more.
"Hank, I have to kill Trask. Don't you see? I can't let him continue to murder our mutant brothers and sisters. He does terrible things to them. I've seen it! He's a monster! And he'll never stop until we're all dead or under his control!"
She had witnessed something terrible, that much was obvious. Just what Hank wasn't sure. But it had set her on this destructive course as surely as a piece of paper pulled toward slicing teeth of a shredder.
So he spoke honestly again.
It seemed to be working so far.
"Mystique, I don't care about Trask. He's dangerous to everybody and a monster, you're right. I do care about what your murder of him will do to you. And the future of everyone, both mutant and human."
She looked at him speculatively.
"So then why aren't you trying to stop me?"
He shook his head.
"If it's going to happen, it will happen either way. They may have your blood already. I saw a newscast of somebody collecting blood from the pavement in Paris."
She frowned.
'Yes, I saw that too."
Hank continued.
"I'm not here to tell you what to do. I'm just relieved to be here. And not there."
Her eyes lasered into him, as if trying to figure him out.
He didn't shy away.
Finally she spoke one word.
"Okay."
Restarting the car, she pulled back onto the road and they resumed their trip.
And their silence.
They drove southwest for two hours at a more or less steady pace.
He considered asking where they were going.
But he didn't.
Because he already knew.
Trask.
D.C.
The beginning of the end of the world.
How am I going to stop it? And her? Should I even try?
That was stupid. Of course he should. He hadn't completely changed just because he'd impetuously fled the Manor with a blue, scaly mutant hell-bent on murder.
But how?
Suddenly he was stricken by an overwhelming certainty that the powerful mutant beside him could hear his thoughts more loudly than if he were shouting through a megaphone.
He glanced over at her but she seemed to be focusing on carefully following all the rules and regulations of driver's safety.
Wouldn't do to get pulled over and make any sort of scene that might impede getting to D.C. in enough time for the big day, would it?
The thought made him feel slightly ill.
Raven, Mystique, murder.
"Have you ever killed anyone before?" he asked suddenly.
She briefly cast a rueful look at him before redirecting her concentration to the traffic in the front of them.
He waited. He was getting very good at it.
"Yes," she answered finally. "But only in self-defense. And not that many."
He felt a sweeping sense of relief mixed with an undercurrent of sadness.
If she does kill him in cold blood, then it will change her forever. How do you come back from purposefully executing someone?
According to Logan, she couldn't.
Suddenly, Raven slowed the car.
What'd I do now?
And pulled into the parking lot of a diner.
"I'm hungry."
She turned off the car, glancing at him.
"You want something?"
Yes. Peace with a side order of anonymity, please.
He nodded.
"Sure."
And got out.
The diner was small and worn.
A twangy country song greeted them along with the bell above the door that Raven opened.
It was afternoon and only a few customers sat quietly at their tables.
"Hey, hon, sit anywhere you like," a hefty waitress called out.
Hank followed Raven to a booth where she could see the entrance and the car.
When the friendly, gum-smacking waitress arrived, they both ordered cheeseburgers, cokes, and fries.
It seemed like a long wait for their food.
Small talk wouldn't cut it.
So, seen any good movies lately?
In between trying to save the mutants of the world?
What kind of hobbies, besides killing, do you enjoy lately?
Nope, try again.
'Satin sheets to lie on, satin pillows to cry on . . ."
Is this song the reason you hate humans so much? Because that I can commiserate with.
He just decided to wait until their food arrived.
When it did, they ate in silence for a while.
Then Raven spoke.
"What happened to him? Charles. It . . . wasn't all me?"
She seemed to be hoping Hank would absolve of her role in her mutant brother's downward spiral.
I could make her pay for abandoning him. Abandoning us. I could make her suffer. Make her hurt. Right now. I could do it. And she would believe me. Because I'm Hank. And Hank doesn't play around with people's emotions.
He decided he would grant her mercy. And the truth.
"No. Not all you. He started off okay. Missed you. Missed Erik. But he had a purpose then. Starting his mutant school. I thought he, we, were all going to be okay. But when Vietnam started taking so many innocents and the kids' parents started getting scared, it just all fell apart."
He hesitated, contemplating his half-eaten cheeseburger.
"He didn't have anything to distract him. He started obsessing over everything he couldn't fix, couldn't change. Cerebro and his telepathy didn't help because there were so many voices crying out. And he got . . . weak. Scared. So he started trying to shut them out instead of deal with them."
Hank stopped talking, feeling a little guilty for airing Charles' personal struggles.
"And he just . . . fell apart."
Raven listened, the light shining on her pale, pinched face, lovely in her human form.
She bit her lip.
"I never meant to hurt him. I knew I did. But I couldn't stay."
He nodded, fiddling with a French fry.
"I know."
Trust me.
"I didn't help," he admitted quietly. "I thought I could when I developed his serum. But it made things worse. It only gave him a crutch. I wished I'd never done it."
She was eyeing him closely, like he was an animal trapped in a cage.
"And your own serum?"
He answered honestly as best as he could.
"Well, it helps me eat in diners with shapeshifting mutants."
Raven huffed and thoughtfully chewed a few fries before speaking again.
"I'm not really surprised though. He always found a way to get whatever he wanted. In a way he was just throwing a fit like a spoiled brat whose favorite toy has been taken away."
Ten year long hissy fit and I was the nanny? Slightly more complicated than that, I think.
Thankfully, Raven changed the subject.
"What about you? Find somebody to put appreciate your sciency side?"
She smiled just a little and he returned it.
She's trying to be social, normal, even-keeled.
That's nice.
He couldn't resist a sarcastic expression from catching hold of his face.
"You mean between being afraid to be a beast and taking care of Charles the serum head?"
She chuckled a little.
"Okay, never mind."
They ate in silence for a while.
Finally, Raven scooted out of the booth.
"I'm going to the bathroom."
He nodded.
"Okay."
When she walked out the diner door heading for the car, he was sitting in the passenger seat.
She calmly sat down behind the wheel, refusing to look at him.
Turned on the car, backed up, and drove away down the road.
"How did you know?" she asked finally.
He looked at her and deadpanned.
"It doesn't take a genius to predict your actions, Mystique. Whatever will hurt me most, that's the most probable option."
There were no other cars on the road. She rippled slowly into her blue form from head to toe. And back just the same.
Like an animal reflexing its muscles and bearing its teeth.
Now it was his turn to ask an obvious question.
"Why?"
She didn't answer for a long while and he didn't press her to. He could wait.
Then she sighed audibly.
"You're a distraction for me. Being aware of you, taking care of you, wondering if Charles is controlling you or trying to get you to stop me. I don't need that distraction. I don't need to care."
He wait to respond until they stopped at a traffic light.
"Do you want me to get out?"
She didn't answer, didn't move.
The light turned green.
The car stayed still.
Behind them, an impatient driver honked his horn.
Raven flipped them off without looking. Hank refrained from lowering her proffered hand.
She'd punch me in the face too. Don't need that.
"No," she relented. "You can stay."
And drove through the intersection just before the light turned red.
Yep, our Hank is a little loopy and left fielding out here. But have you ever felt the exhiliaration of cutting bait and running? I have.
Okay, yes, Hank & Raven have 'advanced' healing factors. Just not as near instantaneous as Logan.
And the song is 'Satin Sheets' popularized by Tammy Wynette . That's the boppy version. The original version is sung by Jeanette Pruett. Which makes me suicidal. No offense.
Anyway, thanks to brigid1318 (who has put up with me all day), DaniNatureGirl313 (thanks for the Charles plot bunny), chraezanty1317 (I'll address Erik/Raven soon) for reading and reviewing. Please feel free to talk to me, yeah? And all the rest of you. :D
