ax_main | Wanda and Hank

Wanda goes to Hank with a question - and ends up asking a different one altogether

Not normally one to hang around after class was over, today Wanda took her time stacking up her books, deliberately hanging back after Kitty and Terry had left. She had a seriously fucked up question to ask, one that she was honestly embarassed to ask any of the other faculty at the school, but she figured Dr. McCoy would understand.

If nothing else, he'd probably get a kick out of her asking.

Finally, having determined that no one was likely to come back to get anything they'd forgotten, she picked up her books and made her way to the front of the room. "Hey. I was wondering - can I ask you a question?"

The biological sciences may have been Hank McCoy's first love, but the arts ran a very close second. And the opportunity to impart that enthusiasm to another generation was, he could not deny, extremely appealing. Appealing enough to draw him out of the labs, certainly, and there weren't many enticements that could claim to be as alluring. He was collecting his books after another communications class when one of the students approached. Not one of the regular students, but welcome at the school and enthusiastic for knowledge. That was more than enough for him.

He collected his books and tucked them under one burly arm, turning toward her with a smile. With his free hand, Hank plucked his glasses from the tip of his nose, and tucked them into his front coat pocket. "Of course, Wanda. What is a teacher for, if not to answer questions?"

"Well, this one's probably not what you'd call your normal question around here," Wanda admitted. "But I was wondering - can I check out books from the library here?"

"Speaking as a member of the faculty, I can tell you I haven't heard of any particular restrictions on students checking books out of the library--whether that student is in residence at the mansion or not," he told her. "Given your course load, I'd be more surprised if you didn't need to borrow the occasional treatise or textbook. Which books were you thinking of borrowing?"

Wanda shrugged and smiled. "Pretty much anything readable that I haven't already read. Taking classes and running the team is cutting into my hitting the used bookstore time. Besides, they never seem to get anything new in at this time of year."

He gave an approving nod of his shaggy blue head, saying, "Certainly, no one could fault you for that. As I said, I would not anticipate your having any difficulty borrowing books and taking them off campus--if you do, just let me know. If nothing else, as a fellow bibliophile I would be happy to offer a character reference."

"Too bad that wouldn't work at the public library. I might be able to get an actual card." Wanda smiled, then eyed the blue teacher curiously. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course not," he told her, with a curious look. "If it's about what conditioner I use, let's just say I buy in bulk, and leave it at that. In all seriousness, though, you should always feel free to ask me whatever questions you like. I will let you know if it's inappropriately probing, and answer to the best of my ability if it is not. Just like a real teacher."

"And here I thought you were a real teacher." Wanda smirked just a little, then shrugged. "But anyway. I just wondered how you managed college. I didn't think they were admitting mutants - well, not knowingly, anyway. Or at least, not before the guy who helps out in the infirmary who came out a couple months ago on TV."

"Ah," Hank replied, a touch pensively, seeming to turn the question over in his mind. "Let me show you something, Wanda," he said eventually, turning back to his desk and retrieving a worn copy of Science from the top drawer. Waving her over, her turned to a dog-eared article near the center of the magazine, and pointed to the photograph of one of the authors of the article that had clearly been re-visited more than once over the years. "That was me," the blue-furred academic informed her, "back then." The pictured individual had short, dark hair and thick, horn-rimmed glasses, and his labcoat strained across bulky shoulders and a barrel chest. But other than a physique that was unusually heavy in muscle-tone for a scholar, graduate student Henry McCoy could have passed as a baseline human without much trouble. "Not nearly as striking a figure as I cut these days, to be sure, but not one to be overlooked, either. Though I've always considered a well-nurtured intellect of greater value than mere physical attractiveness."

Wanda eyed the photo with interest - fuck, much as she liked the blue fur look (and yeah, not thinking about that too closely, given her other-dimensional offspring), she had to admit that Dr. McCoy didn't look half bad without, either. "So, one of those hologram things they give out to the kids here? Or did your mutation kick in late?"

"Unfortunately, the technology was not readily available, or particularly reliable, at that time," he explained, tucking the magazine back into his desk. "And I am unaware of any significant enhancement to a given mutant's x-gene expression occurring once puberty has passed." He looked thoughtful. "Though that is an interesting notion. And the lack of data could possibly simply be a result of the relatively limited population sample size we've been working with, up until now. Food for thought, certainly." He trailed off, lost in thought for a moment, then shook his head and re-gathered his things, moving toward the door. Though he did wave for her to walk with him, if she was of a mind to. "I'm afraid my present condition is something I did to myself. I was impatient, I suppose. Impatient and reckless. I consider myself rather fortunate the alterations were so largely cosmetic in nature."

"You artificially fucked with your mutation?" Wanda's eyebrows climbed. "How? And for the record, my father didn't manifest until he was an adult. Though I don't suppose that's the same thing as enhancing an already existing mutation, huh?"

"That's a rather Frankensteinian way to put it," Hank protested, looking pained. "As a matter of fact, I formulated a chemical catalyst, intended to activate benign latent expressions of the x-gene and augment beneficial traits already expressed. I suppose I was successful, after a fashion. Though with the benefit of hindsight, I can admit that using myself as a guinea pig was ill-advised." He glanced down at Wanda. "And the Professor has always been recalcitrant concerning ... well, any notable details regarding your father. But if he did manifest as an adult, he would be a rarity among known mutants. It is also possible he suppressed his abilities in adolescence, and some significant triggering event unlocked them again."

"Huh. Never thought about that. There was definitely a triggering event," she acknowledged. Her forehead furrowed. "What kind of outcome were you hoping for? And why were you doing it? No offense, but it sounds like something the Right would pull."

Hank seemed to bristle a bit at the comparison, but that look was quickly subsumed by something a great deal more ashamed. "Well, I never considered this," he gestured toward his blue-furred physique in general, "a credible potential outcome. But you're not entirely wrong; I was arrogant, I took shortcuts. I charged ahead when a more temperate mind would have exercised greater caution. I'm honestly not sure now what I was hoping to prove, other than that it could be done. It seems like such a long time ago now ..." He trailed off, eyes going distant for a moment, then shook his head.

"We all have our moments of folly, I suppose, and that was by far the most egregious of mine. Fortunately, the only one who has to live with the consequences is me. You would think that would lessen the sense of guilt."

"Why guilt?" Wanda asked, genuinely interested. "I can see wanting to kick yourself in the ass, though honestly, blue's a good look for you. But unless someone got their hands on your research, I'm not sure why you'd be feeling guilty about."

"Well," he shifted the books under his arm against his side a touch anxiously. "As you pointed out, it comes painfully close to the same sort of methodology practiced by the Right. And if my wake-up call had not been as ... dramatic as it was, who knows what I might have attempted next? If I were willing to do this to myself, after all," Hank waved a hand vaguely to encompass the entirety of his furred and faintly simian form, "what wouldn't I be willing to do to somebody else?" Not that he had ever considered experimenting on others, even at his most desperate. But he was prepared to acknowledge the potential for a slippery-slope was there. He shook his shaggy head. "No, my ambition outstripped my patience, and it's just as well I was made to pay the price early. I shudder to think what the alternative might have been."

He glanced down at Wanda. "Though I am flattered you do not find my present look entirely disconcerting."

Wanda grinned. "Not disconcerted," she assured him. She paused, though, considering the rest of what he'd said, and shook her head. "And I can't see it. I mean, if you were going to do shit to other people in the name of science, why wouldn't you have started there rather than on yourself? Seems like it'd be backwards to start with your own mutation. Unless you'd been successful, anyway."

"Ethics can be very tricky, Wanda," he mused, scratching at the side of one cheek thoughtfully. "Selfishness is a basic survival tactic, a remnant of our reptile brains, but, when our basic needs are met, I would like to think that empathy and curiosity are our more natural state. They're also traits I feel we must always work to refine--empathy without curiosity is simple gullibility, while curiosity without empathy ... well. That would probably be my greatest fear. That time and harsh experience could strip that from me, conceivably. Could strip it from anyone, when the experiences are sufficiently extreme. Some of the greatest atrocities man has ever committed were done in the name of science. It's something I try to keep in mind."

Hank gave a slight start, and ran a paw through his blue mane. "Goodness, I seem to be rambling, now. My apologies, Ms. Maximoff."

"No, it's cool - I mean, it's interesting," Wanda corrected quickly, because really, there was nothing cool about it. "Not that I'm buying that you would, personally - but do you figure the curiosity without empathy applies to the scientists who work for the Right and that new group in Arizona? Because it seems like they have a more sinister agenda."

"I think an excess of scientific inquisitiveness and a lack of respect for the rights of other human beings is most likely what led most of the Right's scientists down the road they currently follow. Certainly, it makes it easier for them to do what they do." And to children, no less; in Hank's mind, that required a very special sort of depravity. One he would not mind excising from the ranks of the scholarly community, preferably with his fists. "As to their endgame ... we haven't really found much that gives us insight into that, unfortunately. For some, it appears to be simple greed--creating a marketable living weapon or assassin whose abilities outstrip those of conventional military forces, and whose uniqueness would make them virtually impossible to defend against. There may, however, be something deeper in play. Rest assured, we're exploring every available avenue of inquiry in our efforts to discover what that might be."

Wanda's lips twitched with amusement. "You aren't the only ones, y'know," she pointed out. "I mean, we got the information in the first place, and my dad shared it with you guys. I'd hope that you'd do the same if you found out anything we didn't know?" Her eyebrows climbed and she gave him a look. Yes, she was his student - but with her dad still gone, she was also co-leader of the Brotherhood.

Fuck. That had finally sunk in, hadn't it?

"As a member of the faculty, I'm hesitant to offer any reassurance that might be construed as a matter of school policy," Hank grinned. "Still, you have other avenues, don't you? You and Scott seem fairly close, and the Professor withholds less from him than most. You might end up knowing more about the Right than I do."

"Right. Y'know, if Scott were in the army and got captured? They wouldn't even get name, rank, and serial number out of him. It's hard enough to get objective updates on the twins, let alone team info." Not to mention, Sage would be a better source of information, if she actually came through.

Hank hummed, considering. "I'm less involved in active field work, you know; I'm mostly here to lessen Moira's workload and try to keep you unruly lot," by which obviously meant the students in general, more so than the Brotherhood, in particular--indeed, his limited interactions indicated Magneto's charges tended to be somewhat more diligent in their studies than the norm, "pointed toward a future of academic excellence. But, as a private individual, I would be willing to share whatever information comes my way that I think you ought to know. It's not much, but it's the best I can offer."

He sighed. "Your father's relationship with the Professor is complicated. I suppose it is inevitable that the relationship between the Brotherhood and the school should become so, too. One cannot help but wonder what might have been, had one or the other been able to persuade his erstwhile comrade to his cause."

"No way to know." Wanda rolled her eyes. "Though it would've saved everyone some serious bullshit if they'd just told their teams about it all up front. But whatever. Might as well make the most of the whole cooperation thing while it lasts." She smiled. "And I appreciate your offer. We don't want to fight with the school here. I mean, fuck. I have kids here."

"I, for one, hope that this era of cooperation proves to possess greater longevity than we imagine," he replied with a small, fanged smile. "Your teammates are not always enthusiastic about their coursework, but I don't find their attitudes in general significantly that different from those of the regular students--or any given teenage high school student, for that matter. I am gratified to be a resource to them and their continuing academic development for as long as they care to take advantage of our facilities. To paraphrase one of Franklin's famous truisms, we must hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately."

"Yeah, personally? I'd just as soon skip being hung," Wanda replied, returning his smile. "I wish I could talk the others into classes, but honestly, I'm surprised we got as many as we did. A couple of them had some pretty shitty experiences with school."

He bumped her elbow lightly with his. "I'm a bit surprised, myself. I credit the turnout to solid team leadership, personally." Even if Eileen's occasional diatribes were a bit ... distracting. It was reassuring to know she was engaged, at least. "I'm available for off-site tutoring, if the environment is the issue. I'd hate for anyone to miss out on a chance for personal intellectual development just because they're averse to a traditional classroom setting. And I could probably find a few spare hours, here and there."

Wanda looked over at him, surprised. "I'll ask," she assured him. "Not sure if anyone will bite, but...I'll definitely ask and let you know." She offered a crooked smile. "Anyway, not so sure about solid team leadership, though I think Lance signing up went a long way."

"I felt it important to make the offer," he explained. "If your colleagues are not interested now, perhaps they may be in the future. I expect I'll be here, should they reconsider." His broad shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. "As to the other matter, taking on sole responsibility for the leadership of your team would be a lot to ask any adolescent, no matter how good a head she has on her shoulders. Splitting the job with a trusted comrade only seems sensible."

"My dad handed it off to us," Wanda admitted. "I kinda wish he'd just handed it off to Lance. He's better at it. No clue why he picked me - I'm the problem child."

"Really?" Hank replied, seeming genuinely surprised. "How peculiar. Not that I've had much interaction with your father, personally, but Charles tells me that, on those rare occasions when he speaks of his family, he tends to describe you in fairly glowing terms. And it's fairly difficult to hide things from the Professor, even for him."

"Huh." That was a surprise - a huge one, actually. When she'd given it any thought at all (not often), she'd always assumed Pietro was his favorite, if only because he caused fewer headaches. "Weird. I'm always the one telling him off," she admitted with a shrug.

"I can only speculate, of course," he rambled on companionably. "But I suppose many of those qualities that made you a difficult soldier were the same ones that naturally suggested a leadership position wouldn't be beyond you. As a general, the former must have been frustrating for him. But, similarly, as a general--and as a father--I can also imagine how the latter might be a point of pride. I think Erik has more respect for you than you realize, Wanda. Not that he's an easy sort of man to know by any means."

"There's an understatement." Wanda sighed. "I've gotta admit, I don't know him well. I never wanted to, y'know? I mean, I respect him as a leader, and I'm on board with the mission - always have been, since I was old enough to understand it. But as a father? He's always kinda sucked, and I've always let him know it."

"It is an unfortunate trend that good leaders rarely make for good parents," Hank agreed with a sigh. "I've certainly seen enough of that in my own experience. One's energies can only be divided so many ways before one becomes generally ineffectual. On the other hand, I do not think that Erik would have made you even co-leader of the team he so carefully assembled simply to placate you, or if he did not think you truly capable of rising to the position. It may not amount to the paternal care you and your brother deserve, but it is, at least an acknowledgement."

"Yeah, I guess." Wanda considered that a few moments longer, then shrugged and offered the doctor a faint smile. "Have to share that with Pietro, maybe." She eyed him speculatively. "You've read the Art of War?" she guessed, based on his discussion of generals and soldiers. Granted, one didn't necessarily mean the other, but given that it was Hank, she was guessing it did.

One blue brow arched in curiosity at the unexpected segue. "Of course," he said. "I would consider it one of the main pillars of any greater understanding of philosophical thought, in general. Why do you ask?"

Wanda shook her head. "Just thought of it when you were talking about generals and soldiers. You should tell Scott - he's a big fan."

That drew a chuckle from him. "Scott is clearly a bright and diligent student--his classwork is unusually insightful and always precise. But he doesn't seem to enjoy interacting much with the faculty. I've attempted to draw him into discussion a time or two, but the experience was so obviously torturous for him that it seemed kinder to leave him be. A shame, really. The Professor speaks well of him, and that's the sort of thing that always sparks my interest." He glanced down at Wanda. "And just how have you come to know so much of Scott's interests, when barely a handful at the school could claim a similar affinity, Ms. Maximoff?"

"I play pool." Wanda smirked. "And can give him a challenge at it, either by using my powers or turning his off. Also, I'm pretty sure he doesn't know anyone else who's read military strategy for the fun of it."

"Interesting," Hank noted, scratching a claw thoughtfully beneath his chin. "Well, now that's two very strong recommendations in Scott's favor. Perhaps another attempt at breaking the ice is in order."

Wanda's eyebrows rose and her grin widened. "You play pool?"

His own grin returned, fangs bared in an expression that should have been intimidating, but somehow managed to be full of warm good-humor, instead. "Not a bit. But I am an extremely fast learner."

"Y'know," Wanda began, her smile quirking just a little into shades of flirtatious, but little enough that she could deny it if she needed to, "there's a bar not far from our base that has pretty decent tables. If you wanted to learn sometime." Neutral location, neutral invitation. It was worth a shot.

"That," Hank mused, "sounds like one of the best ideas I have heard in some time. Just let me know a time that's convenient for you, and I will be at your disposal."

Quickly, Wanda ran through her schedule in her mind. Wednesday she needed to finish that project, and Thursday was team training, and... "Friday? The tables are usually pretty busy, but if you don't mind having to wait a while, it could work."

"Friday evening it is," he affirmed with a nod. "And who could object to a little wait, when the company is so congenial?"

Fuck. Wanda could feel her face warm, and she forced herself to roll her eyes. "I should get going," she said, hoping to cover it. "I need to track down Jean about some Physics notes before I take off."

"And I really should be heading down to the medical lab," he admitted a touch ruefully. "It's been a pleasure, as always, Wanda. And I look forward to learning the finer points of barroom billiards."

Wanda smiled and waved, then turned to head down the hallway towards the library, feeling a little strange. Because...well, fuck. She was pretty sure she had an actual date.