I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.
Or the DVD. Yet. Boo.
The Story Left Untold
Chapter 8: The Crumbling Cliff and What Came After
At the end of the day, when all of their groceries and sundries had been distributed, Raven reverted to her usual stoicism and silently drove to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
Stopped the car and stared at the massive white building set far back behind the tall, imposing black fence.
Hank saw her face blank as if she were strategizing possible courses of action for the next day.
"Mystique . . ." he began.
"Shut up, Hank." she responded mechanically, indifferently. "I'm thinking."
"But . . ."
"I'm warning you, Hank."
Hank shut up.
He wasn't scared of angering her. Not exactly. He was trying to formulate a feasible argument to derail her self-assigned mission of Trask assassination.
For the first time since hazily walking out of Xavier Manor with her by his side, Hank felt a rapidly rising sense of urgency.
I've got to make her see. Time is running out to make her see.
"Raven, you don't have to do this. We can find another way," he pleaded.
They were facing off in the motel room. It was dark outside again.
And all the bright beauty of a day spent selflessly reaching out to others less fortunate was gone.
And replaced by talk of impending murder and irreversible consequences.
"How? How is there another way? He's a scientist for the government. They'll cover for him! They'll help him! They've already done it before, Hank!"
She was becoming agitated, he could see. He was testing her resolve, pushing her buttons. And she didn't like that. Not when she unintentionally had come to rely on his steadfastness during these past two days.
Only two days? Seems highly improbable that so much could happen in such a short amount of time.
"But if we got to the right people . . ." he suggested.
She threw her arms out wide in frustration.
"There are no 'right people', Hank! I know, I've tried! If there were, that would have been the first stop!"
Her despair was apparent.
Yes, she had tried, he could see that. Begged, pleaded, coaxed any number of people in a valiant effort to get help for her and her fellow mutants.
Her, the lone fighter or so she thought. While he, Hank, had hidden away in a secluded mansion and sulked.
If we survive this, I'm going to become 'the right person'. I'm going to fight for mutant rights. In the government. And then there will be a right person.
He was stricken with a sudden powerful urge to surge forward and gather her up in his arms. Human. Beast. Whichever she would respond most positively to.
Hold her close. Comfort her. Let her know she was not alone. Vow to help her find a peaceful resolution to her desperate predicament.
But he couldn't. She would not welcome his comfort. Would see it as a ruse to control her, weaken her, derail her from her mission.
And he had to finally say what needed to be said.
"There are bigger issues here than you or any one of us, Mystique. The destruction of the entire world and everyone and everything in it."
He gritted his teeth, knowing what he said next would drive a wedge between them, probably bigger than either of them could span.
"Because in reality, your personal vendetta doesn't mean anything in the larger scheme of things."
Her eyes flashed dangerously and he knew they were nearing the edge of a crumbling precipice.
"What you did today. The giving of your time, your care, your compassion. That had a positive effect. You helped so many people, Mystique. You might have even inspired them to reach out to others."
He stopped, thunderstruck. Then managed to gather up his words and speak again.
"That could be your mission. That could be your purpose. You could develop a network, a community of mutants all supporting and helping each other. An underground society. A real Brotherhood of Mutants."
She stood shock still. Nothing moved. She barely breathed. Hank didn't know whether it was a good sign or a bad.
Either I'm finally reaching her or she's about to kill me herself.
He held his ground. Hoping, praying for a break in their impasse.
"We can protect your son, Mystique. We can keep him safe."
He saw her blink back tears. Saw her face begin to crumple, then watched despondently as it hardened, became like granite.
She spoke then, quietly and with absolute certainty.
"No one can keep him safe. None of us will be safe as long as Trask and his kind are out there. That's the whole point."
And so the impasse remained.
Then she spoke her final warning, her final ultimatum. In the same quiet, calm voice.
"Look if you're not willing to be useful or at least stand aside, Hank, then there's the door. You can leave anytime you want. I'll even give you the car keys."
They stared at each other for the longest of times.
Then Hank sat down on his motel bed and removed his shoes.
Looked up at her, his message clear and decisive.
I'm not going anywhere.
She went into the bathroom and closed the door.
Hank McCoy opened his eyes in the dark.
He'd been asleep.
And now he wasn't.
He and Raven had inhabited the same general space during the few hours following their confrontation. Without speaking. Without contact of any sort.
It had not been a companionable silence.
If I didn't know better, I'd think we were on two separate timelines. Inhabiting the same space on two different dimensions. It certainly feels that way.
Eventually, Raven had turned out her light and lain down in her bed with her blue back to him.
Hank had followed suit and broken darkness had joined the silence in a suffocating, cloying blanket of tension and interminable waiting.
It was Raven who had found dreams first.
And muttered and moaned miserably in her sleep.
Hank had heard her beseeching cries and wondered where she was. What was happening. Who was there.
He had gotten up and warily approached her side. Reached out a hesitant hand, knowing she might rise up at any time and dropkick him in the head.
I'd really prefer not. I don't think I can take that again.
But just as his hand was about to touch her shoulder, she had quieted.
He'd paused.
She'd remained peaceful.
After a few minutes he had retreated.
To the bathroom. Closed the door. Turned on the light. Gazed into the mirror.
I can't stop it. I can't save her. I can't save any of us. I don't know what to do.
No answers had miraculously came to him as he stared at his own tousled, bloodshot reflection.
He had eventually gone back to bed.
And stared at the spackled ceiling until his eyelids slipped closed.
And dreamed of death and fire and a desolate world.
Where he stood alone and desolately gazed down upon the charred bones of his long gone friends.
And now something had awoken him.
At first he didn't know what had pulled him out of sleep.
And then became clear.
It was her.
Beside him.
In his bed.
Wrapping an arm and leg around him.
Her head on his shoulder.
Raven, Mystique was here with him in the dark.
He quietly spoke the most intelligent words he'd ever uttered in his life.
"Uh, hey."
She didn't respond.
"Are you okay?"
Her warm body pressed against his human one, as if seeking the reassurance from his nearness. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her to comfort her.
Her bare flesh was matched his.
"No," she murmured, voice small, head buried in his neck.
Hands. Her hands were under his shirt, slowly caressing and moving all over his chest and his lower torso. Touching him in ways he'd only dreamt of.
It was getting a little difficult to think logically.
"Uh, Mystique, what are you doing?"
Her lips worked their way tantalizingly up his neck to graze his ear. Her light breath sent shivers through every nerve and synapse.
"Hank?" she murmured. "Call me 'Raven'."
His entire body thrummed and he understood everything.
What she felt, why she felt it.
Some part of her, deep down, didn't want to be the harsh, cold thing she had become. Some part of her yearned to be what she could have been, should have been, given different circumstances, different decisions.
Some part of her wanted to believe in hope again, in the possibility of life and light.
If only for a little while.
"Raven," he whispered back to her.
And so when her lips sought his, he met them without hesitation.
Anybody else sitting in a warm room right now? No? Okay, guess it's just me.
Well anyway, just in case you were wondering, no Charles (ick, a world of no) anywhere in this chapter. This is all straight up Hank and Raven.
A special thanks to brigid1318 for beta-ing the argument and providing some much needed insight.
Thanks to brigid1318, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, DaniNatureGirl313 and a very highly enthusiastic guest reviewer for choosing to read and review.
Only one more chapter to go I believe.
