Chapter Four: Regret
I did her so wrong
For so long
I turned my back on her love
Now she’s long gone
I did my part to break her heart
She walked out on me
And tore my world apart
She used to be mine
Oh, she used to be mine
~Brooks and Dunn
July 1989
Soft feminine giggling filled the room, drifting through on a gentle breeze that smelled of blooming lilac. Bed sheets rustled, the noise mingling with the laughter. Sunlight beamed merrily through the wide, open windows.
A man named Henry McCoy thought, perhaps, that heaven was something like this. He smiled broadly at the woman propped against the bed pillows. Her luminous blue eyes shone with mirth and pure, undiluted happiness. Never in his life had he seen something so beautiful, so precious.
If she asked it of him, he would move mountains.
He leaned up, just slightly, so that she could shift her endless cocoa legs. When she was comfortable, one arm slung behind her glorious snowy head, he lay against her again. Her soft flesh was warm against his chest, begging for kisses.
Giving in to the impulse, Hank pressed his lips innocently to her skin. She always tasted so pure, so perfect. He raised a hand, “walking” two fingers up the expanse of her chocolatey limb. She giggled again, making him grin in response.
“What are you doing, young man?” She demanded with delight in her tone.
“Letting my fingers do the walking, my love,” he answered easily.
Ororo merely smiled, making her lover wink up at her.
He crossed her soft, cotton-covered hip and traveled the length of her smooth, flat belly. Hank shifted the thin tank she wore, exposing a wealth of her lovely flesh for his feasting eyes. Several innocent kisses were rained onto her stomach, her soft sigh of pleasure sending shivers racing down his spine.
“You cannot be serious,” Ororo demanded on a laugh. Hank raised one dark brow, flattening her to the bed with his body.
“Oh? And why not?”
Ororo’s white brow shot up to hide in her mussed hair. “Because you have had me twice already this morning.”
“Mmm,” Hank hummed lustily, waggling his eyebrows. “Perhaps that is why I crave more. I am, after all, addicted to you.”
Her long lashes fluttered helplessly. “You do say the nicest things, darling.”
Hank nuzzled her nose with his, enjoying the shuddering sigh his lover released as he did so. Her eyes drifted closed, her body almost instinctively flexing into his. Their legs tangled together as they always did. For some reason, Hank and Ororo shared the intimate need to touch at every point they could reach. Often the couple could be found entwined from head to toe, even when watching a movie in the sitting room with the others.
Her tactile demeanor may have made some men shy from her, but it only drew Hank closer to Ororo. He adored her need to be touched, both innocently and sensually. The woman did wonders for his ego.
“Hank?” Ororo’s gentle whisper made her lover bury his head into the crook of her neck. He inhaled the scent of her skin, feathering kisses over her flesh until she purred.
“Henry.”
He still paid her no mind, dragging his hands down to flex on her hips.
“Henry Peter McCoy, cease and desist!” She was laughing, which made her demands somewhat less than urgent.
Unable to resist, Hank smirked into her neck and then proceeded to nibble on her noisily. Ororo, ticklish to the point of being ridiculous, squealed loudly, attempting to escape her fiancé’s sudden assault.
Hank made soft, teasing, growling noises as he tickled her with his mouth. He let his hands come up to her sides, his fingers dancing over her ribcage until Ororo was laughing herself to tears.
“Do you surrender, Goddess?”
“Never, foolish mortal!” Ororo wiggled beneath him.
“Omph!” Hank took a pillow directly to the face, pleasantly surprised to find Ororo wielding her weapon with a taunting smile.
“This means war!” He roared playfully.
Ororo leaped from the bed, holding her pillow like a policeman’s nightstick.
Hank, however, simply back flipped from the bed, landing gracefully behind her. Another pillow in hand, he whacked his giggling lover in the back playfully. Ororo howled with mirth, turning to smack him in return.
In seconds, both down-filled pillows were destroyed, showering the bedroom in feathers and leaving the couple without weaponry. Hank tossed the spent pillowcase over his shoulder before tackling his divine beauty.
As they wrestled on the floor, someone approached the bedroom and politely knocked upon the door.
Ororo, straddling Hank from where she had pinned him, breathlessly giggled before calling out.
“Yes?”
“Did you forget about our date, ‘Roro?”
“Oh!” Ororo scrambled off of Henry’s lap, leaving him chuckling on the floor and covered in feathers.
Clad in only her short pajama bottoms and a rumpled tank, she threw the bedroom door open.
“Well, this looks interesting,” Jean Grey said with laughter in her eyes. “Having fun children?”
“I was attempting to seduce her,” Hank said from the floor. “But she decided pelting me with pillows would be more fun.”
“Quiet, man,” Ororo tossed over her shoulder, shaking her head. The beautiful mutant turned to her best friend with an apologetic smile. “Give me fifteen to shower and change and get rid of the man. I will meet you downstairs.”
Jean was quite obviously holding back laughter as Ororo closed the bedroom door. When she turned back to Hank, he raised a dark brow.
“Fifteen minutes?”
She rolled her sapphire eyes playfully. “You are incorrigible.”
“Yes, and you love me all the same.”
“Forever and ever, my darling.”
~**~
January 1991
He checked the data again, frowning when nothing seemed to happen. Weary from the last month’s research, Henry put a hand to his eyes. Everything in him was exhausted, wanting only the comfort of his bed.
And, perhaps, the company he so long denied himself.
It had been pure cowardice, hiding from her over the last six months. How could he face her? How could he ask her to accept this…thing he had become?
Oh, he put on a good show for everyone he worked with. Hank McCoy had, after all, been fighting for mutant rights since his teens. Now in his thirties, he was looked upon as a noble knight on a quest. At one time, just scant months ago, it seemed that nothing could stop his rise to the top.
Even after accepting a position at Brand, which kept him away from Xavier’s School for extended periods, he still “had it all”. A fast-tracked career, a beautiful fiancée… he lived a charmed life, in spite of “ or perhaps because of “ his status as a mutant.
Now, he struggled every morning just to look into a mirror.
Her phone calls went unreturned, messages ignored, letters unopened. Every day Henry told himself that he would tell her and every night, he broke that vow.
So it was a great surprise when she came waltzing into his laboratory.
“I am looking for Doctor Henry McCoy,” said a familiar voice, catching Hank’s immediate attention.
He would know that voice anywhere. “Oh, my stars and garters.” His whisper was lost amid the hum of machinery and voices.
Hank looked up in time to see her turn. Her long white hair floated around her as she searched the immediate area for him. Unable to escape, no matter how he wanted to, Henry straightened his back.
“Henry?”
She knew him. Without him saying a word or even moving a muscle, her eyes lit with recognition at a mere glance. Shame filtered into his heart and mind, making the urge to look away from her piercing gaze almost painful.
“By the Bright Lady,” she breathed, audible only to his enhanced hearing. “Henry?”
“Ororo.” Her name came from his lips in a plea, a prayer.
Her beautiful form came around the laboratory table as swiftly as a summer wind. Ororo wrapped him into her arms, surrounding him with the scent of lilac and rain. Henry’s eyes stung with tears as he pulled her close.
It had been so long since he had held her…had she always fit so perfectly in his arms?
“What happened?” She demanded when they parted. “When did this happen?”
Those soothing hands went to his face, threading through the blue fur that now covered his body. She took in every inch of his new form with those warm blue eyes, her hands touching everywhere she could reach.
“I…” he faltered and cleared his throat before continuing. “It was an experiment that, I fear, was a success.”
“The serum,” she caught on quickly. “To activate dormant mutations.”
“Yes,” Hank admitted. “It worked.”
“So I see,” Ororo reached up to touch him. “You are quite blue, my love.”
Hank turned away from her, staring down at his clawed hands. When Ororo reached for him, he stared at the contrast of her dark flesh against his indigo fur. Without thinking about the ramifications of it, Henry instinctively pulled away from her.
The hurt snapped through his fiancée like a whip.
“You felt the need to hide this from me?” Ororo whispered, pain in her every word. “Why?”
“I am a monster,” Hank said quietly. “How can you look at me as though nothing has changed?”
“Because nothing has,” her voice rose several notches, drawing attention from the others in the lab.
Henry took her elbow and steered her into his office, closing the door behind them. Ororo tossed her handbag onto the uncluttered desk and crossed her arms defensively.
“Look at me,” she snapped harshly. “Henry, look at me.”
He could not raise his eyes to hers. Months of avoidance suddenly seemed preferable to this inevitable confrontation. “I am sorry, Ororo.”
“No,” she shot back instantly. “You are not letting this come between us.”
“It already has,” he replied quietly. “I am a different person.”
“The hell you are,” Ororo moved toward him, reaching for his face.
Hank pulled himself from her reach. Her hands fell to her sides. When, at last, he lifted his gaze to hers, he noticed the tears falling from her eyes. Everything in him wanted to reach for her, to soothe her fears away.
But until he knew who he was now, he could not make her his wife.
“You should return to New York,” he said as gently as he could. “We need some time apart, Ororo.”
“No. Hank.”
“I’m sorry.” He whispered, meeting her eyes and praying she could understand. “I truly am.”
She reached for her purse and spoke while brushing past him, tears in her tone. “Not as sorry as you will be when you realize I just walked out this door and I am not coming back.”
True to form, Ororo slammed the door as she left his office. Hank put both of his clawed hands to his face, crumpling to the tiled floor as sorrow overtook his heart. Broken sobs filled the silence of his office.
His laboratory assistants, wisely, never mentioned that they could hear the sound of his heart breaking.
~**~
Now
She was still as beautiful as she had been that day, Hank mused. He watched her move through the Rec Room quickly, efficiently straightening the various misplaced items the children had strewn throughout the room during the day.
Though it had been several weeks since her tragic miscarriage, Hank found no reason to return to Washington just yet. Most of his work could be done from the mansion, leaving him time to nurse his friend back to health.
Logan had not yet arrived nor sent word. Every day that passed without his appearance lanced Storm’s heart. She never showed that it bothered her, but Hank knew her better than most. He could read in every expression, every movement, that the Wolverine’s abandonment had cut her deeply.
Beast knew something about abandoning Storm. He had left her alone and adrift once before, just after his ill-fated experiment on dormant mutations. It had taken him years to win her back, to regain his friend if not his lover.
He would still move mountains for her, if she only asked. There was nothing he would not give for the woman he had so willingly given his heart at such a tender age. She had won him over from the day she entered the mansion, a stunning beauty of only fifteen.
One of her brows had arched, he remembered clearly, and she spoke in a ringing tone.
So, this is where you play crusaders and infidels.
She had his heart from that moment on.
“What are you thinking about, Blue?”
Hank smiled broadly as Ororo dropped onto the loveseat beside him. He shifted the paperwork on his lap, allowing her to pull his laptop computer across her thighs.
“You, actually,” he answered honestly. “The day we met.”
“Crusaders and infidels?” Her lips quirked into an amused smile. “I was suitably unimpressed.”
“Don’t I know it,” he grinned in response, flashing his canines. “I believe you referred to me as a circus performer.”
Ororo covered her mouth with one hand, grinning at him from behind her manicured fingertips.
“I was terrible.”
“You were fascinating,” he countered. “Not even Charles knew what to do with you.”
“Oh, yes he did.” Ororo chuckled, looking faraway for a moment. “He knew all he had to do was put me into your hands.”
“As though I knew what to do with you.”
His friend reached over, lightly swatting him on the shoulder. She folded her long legs under her backside, curling up beside him as they had done for years. Her eyes were drawn to the crackle and pop of the fire, a deep sadness coming over her lovely face.
“No word as of yet?” Hank asked carefully.
Her short white hair trembled as she shook her head. “No.”
“He will come,” Hank assured her with more conviction than he felt.
“Perhaps,” Ororo said softly. Her hand, as though she still felt the phantom of her lost child deep inside, moved to her abdomen.
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” she admitted.
“You need more rest, my dear.” Hank moved his papers and laptop to the coffee table before standing. “Let me get your…”
He halted when her warm, soothing hand slid into his. Turning to her, he noted the sorrow in her eyes that told him her smile lied.
“Sit with me, for just a moment.”
Unable to resist her, Hank lowered himself back to the settee. Ororo, as she had done countless times a decade ago, curled into his side. Hank wrapped one furry arm about her shoulders, pulling her closer.
They sat in companionable silence for some time, watching the fire burn brightly in the hearth. Hank could sense that she wanted to say something to him, but she held it back. His regrets began to eat at him again.
If he had trusted her to accept him, if he had only given her time to adjust before pushing her away, things could have been so different.
“I always thought,” she began as though reading his mind. “That you would come back.”
“To you?” Hank swallowed with difficulty.
Ororo was silent for a moment. “To the school. And then to me.”
He squeezed her shoulders gently. “I always thought it would be you and I hoping for children at this juncture.”
She turned in his arms, touching his face softly. “I did, too.”
The need for honesty, to assure her that not every man to enter her life would abandon her drove Hank to say something he should have kept to himself.
“I may have turned my back on you, Ororo, but my heart never turned.” He took a deep breath, keeping his eyes on hers. “My only regret in this life is that I let you walk out that door.”
Without warning, his dear friend moved into his lap. Her arms wound around his neck as she surrounded him. He buried his face in her hair, his hand flat against her back to hold her as close as flesh would allow him. Hot tears slid onto his neck from her beautiful eyes. He could feel his own surface as she sighed.
“My only regret is that I walked out. I’m so sorry, Hank.”
He held her more tightly, wondering what this bout of honesty would do to their friendship. Hank kissed her hair, wanting to keep her in the protective circle of his arms forever.
The moment, however, was broken by the scream of a motorcycle pulling into the driveway.
~**~
On silent feet she crept toward the building. Her training in martial arts came in handy as two guards spotted her black-clothed figure moving toward them.
Not a sound broke the stillness as she dropped each onto the rain-slick earth. She paused, listening for sounds that they had been alerted as to her presence. When nothing but the caw of a distant bird and the chirping of crickets in the night reached her carefully trained ears, she negotiated the fence easily.
The girl known as Shadowcat phased through the molecular structure most only saw as a wall, entering the building with slightly a pause. With the building’s blueprints in her mind, she slipped through each wall, moving through the corridors faster than the cameras could detect.
When she reached the computer mainframe, she darted through the room, phasing the innards of each security camera until she knew she was wholly alone.
Her head covering came off as she plopped into the enormous chair. Several monitors were displaying various functions of the company, three keyboards at her fingertips. Shadowcat took a deep breath, shoving down the panic that welled inside of her.
If the X-Men caught her, she’d be one dead Kitten.
“Ok, breathe, Kitty.” She took another deep breath. “Do it, get it done, fast.”
Gloved fingers flew over the main keyboard. Monitors flashed at her commands, bringing up dozens of files and blueprints. Her dark brown eyes absorbed as much information as she could. Their information was extensive, more so than she had anticipated.
When, at last, she had gathered everything she needed, Shadowcat reached into her pocket to retrieve a slender computer disk. After searching for the drive, she slipped it inside the computer and immediately booted the virus.
In seconds, alarms were screaming all through the compound. Cool under this kind of pressure, Kitty simply continued working. Several “bugs” in the virus cropped up demanding she remain a few more moments to correct the problems.
Someone was yelling outside the door. Kitty jumped up, grabbed the disk and tore off through the walls again. She was breathing hard when she found the night air again. Her heart in her throat, she raced for the stolen pick up she’d obtained earlier that evening.
Gunshots rang out. Kitty pushed her body into a state of constant flux, ensuring that the metallic bullets cut right through her. She dove into the pick up and revved the engine to life.
They gave chase, but she was clever enough to lose them. As she returned to the mansion that was her home, she pulled the disk from her pocket and stared at it.
“Too bad, Trask,” she said to the silence. “Guess you’ll have to start over, huh?”
