“But Scott and Jean were the original X-Men! Who will lead us if they leave?”
Hank is literally right there. I don’t think he would want to but he was literally in the photo of the original X-Men y’all were looking at when you said that
"[Name], please." Hank whimpered pathetically, a sliver of hope woven through the obvious pain, "Come back to me, love. Please, I beg you."
Hank was able to grab hold of your arms, further pinning you against his massive frame. The way you were wiggling was cause enough for concern- whatever had hold of your mind wasn't letting you go and easier than Hank would give up on saving you. For all your struggling, you weren't going anywhere except out of here with Hank. He would ensure that you made it out of here safely and recover.
That was an absolute outcome.
It took all of Hank's attention to move toward the door as you thrashed in his arms. He would never drop you intentionally, nor would he risk your escape through adjusting. Rocking back and forth, you managed to free your shoulders some- just enough to attempt slamming your head into his nose.
A serious miscalculation on your part as your body went limp in Hank's arms. Hank could feel the panic rising as he moved to lay you on the ground. His bloody nose was of little concern, even as Warren and Kurt ran up.
"Hank!" Kurt gasped, "Have you- oh, good. Logan slashed a bundle of cables that controlled the flood gates. We must hurry."
Nodding swiftly, Hank lifted you gently- running with Warren and Kurt through the compound as quickly as they all could. He cradled your still form until he could set you down in the medical ward and begin a proper check up, only comforted by your softened, yet steady breathing. His footsteps echoed dully through the tiled halls on route to the medical ward.
Everything he checked was perfectly fine, worryingly so- though that feeling could stem from Hank's anxieties more so than your actual well-being. He tried to steel his nerves as he watched your slow, deep breaths. You were here, you were alive. So why was he so worried?
That was the easiest question to answer though. Hank loved you more than life itself. Naturally he'd worry about you whether was a reason or not. He couldn't contain himself as he planted a gentle kiss to your forehead before seating himself right next to your gurney. Hank couldn't bring himself to look away for a second- not even when the door opened behind him.
"Hank?" Ororo called quietly, "How are they? How are you holding up?"
"They're stable, albeit unconscious, at the moment." His voice held a rare tired grumble, "I will be fine. I'm far more concerned with [Name]."
"And the blood? Where did that even come from?"
Hank's voice cracked a little as he hesitated to speak, "[Name] was struggling. I believe they were under a form of mind control, or perhaps a brainwashing. They suddenly jerked their head back and slammed into my nose. The blood was solely mine, though that particular injury wasn't serious."
Ororo slid a gentle, comforting hand over his shoulder, "You should go rest for a bit. I can watch-"
"No thank you Ororo." Hank sat up a little, patting her hand, "I would rather keep an eye on [Name] myself."
"Then what do you need?"
"I'm fine."
"Hank..."
"I... I know Ororo. I just... I will rest after they've woken."
She sighed, withdrawing her hand carefully, "Alright Hank. But if you need something, don't hesitate to ask."
"Thank you Ororo."
You couldn't feel your own eyeballs as you blinked slowly, your whole body was as useful as a penny in a water fountain- sunk deeply in the softened plastic of the bed in the medical ward. You couldn't even groan. Though your mind was racing, memories from the past few months blurring together with the last thing you remembered was fighting Hank.
Hot, heavy tears streaked down the side of your head and past your ears. At least some of them did as a large, warm hand brushed against the corner of your eye. You could just barely see Hank's face as he looked down at you. His mouth moved, but nothing came out- nothing you could hear at least. Maybe it was your name, maybe it was something else, you weren't in the right head space to really read his lips.
Yet he leaned down, pressing a tender little kiss against your cheek. Nuzzling against you so gently that you could just barely feel the short fur on his face against yours. The tears fell much faster with how lovingly and gentle he was checking you over- the most careful massage as he attempted to help reinstate your blood flow. His ministrations continued, it tore your heart to shreds thinking about how vicsously you'd fought him.
You hated how you felt, the things you did to him- to others, it was already haunting you from the moment you woke up. But Hank was a diligent caretaker, lifting you into an upright sitting position so you could sip a cold glass of water with pain killers mixed in. The two of you couldn't have been different pages any more if you tried. And he remained by your side without hesitation, unwavering and protective as you stumbled around on unsteady legs. It didn't take long for you to be physically back to normal...
But then you thought about how you had broken down under pressure. Allowed someone to invade your mind and turn against the very person you loved most. While you didn't actively avoid anyone, you didn't seek companionship either. There were only so many times you could listen to Logan jabbing at how differently you fought- listen to Hank defend you without a second thought.
"[Name]." You jumped, spinning around to see Charles rolling toward you. "Is everything alright? You seem to be rather distant."
"I... I'm alright." You mumbled hollowly, "Just... not up for talking."
"Hm. That isn't much like you." He eased right next to you, "I understand the situation you've been through. Ironically it one I've dealt with personally."
Hank paused just beyond the doorway. Guilty about listening in, but far too worried and curious to just leave.
"[Name], you don't need to shut yourself away like this. It wasn't-"
"Yes it was!" You slapped the counter with a snort, "I was the one who messed up. I was the one who couldn't fight off mind control. I was the one who tried to fight and kill Hank!" Your voice broke, taking your teat ducts with it, "It was my fault... I should have been able to-"
"I know how you feel." Charles repeated, "Do you remember the incident with Striker?"
"I- that's different." You turned away to hide your face. "I... I should have seen the danger coming and fought it off."
The tired sigh escaping Charles was all too telling, "May I show you what happened clearly?"
Hank peered around the door as you nodded, slowly inching into the room. He desperately wanted to be there for you. It stung a little to hear you beat yourself up like this. But here he was, carefully leaning on the counter so as to not startle either you or Charles with his presence. He wanted so badly to wipe your tears away, but doing so could hurt you while Charles poked around your mind.
The hearty sniffles you heaved as your eyes opened hurt a little, but you couldn't see straight to reach for a napkin. Charles was right, he usually was, there wasn't a way for you to keep blaming yourself anymore. Though when a napkin touched your hand, you nearly jumped clean out of your skin.
Charles snickering as Hank jumped across the counter to catch you before you could fall from your stumbling.
"My- my apologies [Name]." Hank stammered, "I thought you could see me."
Your puffy eyes shooting him an apologetic look was a sharp arrow to the heart. He hopped off the counter, offering a hug alongside the napkin. Rubbing your back as you blew your nose, he was thrilled when you leaned against him.
"Well then," Charles backed up to turn and leave, "It seems you have things under control here. Good evening [Name], Hank."
"Good evening." Hank nodded.
You could only hum quietly while you nodded. And with Charles gone, Hank turned back to you. But you couldn't bring yourself to look back up at him.
"[Name]," Hank's hand was gentle against your chin, "Everything is okay. I know I wasn't fighting you. I could never be upset with for falling victim to mind control."
"I- Hank... I-"
"Shh. Its okay my dear. I'm right here."
You didn't have the will power to even remotely fight Hank as he tucked you in a gentle, tight, tender hug. As much as it hurt for you to accept the gentleness you were being given so freely, you still couldn't help but nuzzle into Hank's fluffy fur. Melting into his comforting embrace, despite the guilty feeling that refused to subside. Maybe it would over time, but that would take forever.
In Marvel comics, I can't stop thinking about what would have happened if Hank McCoy (beast) never drank the hormonal extract serum he made that transformed him into the fur covered beast we know today
