Log: Beast & Critic Who: Hank McCoy and Ellie Roseveldt When:Backdated to Wednesday, February 27. Evening Where: Xavier's School, medlab What: Eleanor sneaks into the school with a picnic basket to make up for a long-overdue dinner date. She and Hank discuss running away to travel to the North Pole together despite being on opposite sides of the battlefield-----but then Ellie explains her little secret.
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Perhaps it was against the rules, and almost definitely it was against one of the rules of parenting, but Ellie Roseveldt didn't really care. If one act in twenty years was going to make her a bad mother, then this one really shouldn't count. Of course, if they were looking for one single act that might make the shortlist for 'Things an Attentive and Caring Mother Probably Wouldn't Do', running off and joining a terrorist mutant cell was probably the one to go for. She didn't think of herself as a bad mother, per se: she'd given her children twenty years of her life -twenty of her best years, in fact- and been an unfailing and most definitely primary care-giver. It hadn't been easy, either: losing her husband Dexter had been impossibly tough, for all of them. It had driven a wedge between them all but, as time passed, it had also given them a reason to draw closer -- Eleanor had become a mother and father figure, all rolled into one. Of course, that was probably the reason that Joshua was as gay as a lamp-post and Danielle had become something of an ultra-feminist, but those were their own choices and Ellie supported them. She couldn't not; they, after all, had supported her when she told them of her intent to go back to the Brotherhood.
But they, more than anyone else, understood that their mother was a human being. A human with thoughts and desires that were as strong as anyone else's. It was a weird thought, perhaps, for many people -- but somehow, it seemed only natural that Danielle and Joshua saw their mother as an unapproachable matriarch, but a fallible creature with needs. That was why Danielle had teleported her mother, silently and stealthily, into the waiting room of the Xavier Institute's medical wing. She needed to see him -- not whilst her daughter lay dying, not whilst she was lying to him about her allegiance, not whilst clones were attacking his school and not whilst Rogue and Pyro lay a few feet away. They needed to be alone, and for that Ellie knew she had to arrive when the drama had ended for one night.
She knocked on the door to the waiting room, even as it stood ajar. A little tongue-in-cheek, perhaps, and more than a little bit rude -- but Ellie had earned a little rudeness. This meeting, after all, had taken far too long to arrange. She held a picnic basket in the crook of one arm, covered with an almost twee red-and-white checked cloth. Inside it lay everything she had envisioned them needing, but she needed to get his attention first. Admittedly, she'd had to hope that her clothes wouldn't make the statement first: a red polo neck sweater and black pants wasn't exactly screaming 'sex kitten outfit', but it looked semi-professional and semi-casual, which was about the most appropriate thing Ellie had in her wardrobe.
"I hope it's not too late for the evening," said Ellie, the hint of a giggle in her voice. "But I was kinda hoping that Doctor Henry McCoy had an available appointment for an old friend?"
Said Dr. McCoy was alone in the medlab, working late after the others had retired----even Cecilia who never seemed to sleep or eat or do much of anything except work. Technically, he wasn't working, at least... it wasn't anything he was being paid for. Hank had so many various hobbies and pet projects that it was a wonder he kept up on them, and after studying Laurel's tree-like condition all day he decided to break from that and pull out an ancient manuscript that he was in the middle of translating into accessible English. There were dry, dull translations, but he wouldn't put up with that. He needed something that flowed as beautifully and effortlessly as the original probably had.
At the voice, he lifted his had, glasses sliding down his nose. What on earth. He set his papers down and left his desk, pulling down the rolled-up sleeves of the sweatshirt he wore, proudly sporting his Xavier School pride. He wouldn't dare go barefoot in the medlab even though he preferred to be barefoot everywhere else----but instead of shoes, he wore a pair of soft, rather fluffy slippers. Gray sweatpants completed the underwhelming ensemble. Had he known that he was expected to woo a woman he might have dressed for the occasion.
"...Ellie." Hank's voice caught in his throat and he coughed. "Eleanor." Right. Eleanor. He looked quickly over his shoulder, then back at her. "What are you doing here? How did you get in here? Why are-----you... holding a picnic basket and smiling in such an enigmatic and charming manner."
She was tempted not to give away her secret but, after a second or two, couldn't really think of a good reason not to let him into the secret. She stepped forward a little, into the light and away from the relatively shadowed nook of the waiting room -- 'relatively' being the operative word in that sentence, since everywhere in the Institute seemed to be light and airy. So very different from the dark and oppressive atmosphere of the Brotherhood's medical bay, with all of its harsh angles and darkly metallic finish. Ellie hated all the metal in there, conscious of Magneto's abilities and the fact that it put him in a very comfortable position. But, of course, he wasn't there at the minute and that suited her fine -- by all accounts, he was busy going psycho in Washington.
"All those questions, Harry. Let me try and answer them in order: I'm here to see you, my daughter brought me -ever since you saved her life, she's had quite a fondness for you- and I'm holding a picnic basket..." Here she actually did laugh. "...I'm holding a picnic basket because, this way, I can bring the dinner to you. Actually getting to a restaurant seems to be a bit of a challenge in these interesting times, so I thought I'd cut out the middleman. I'm not certain that my smile has enigmatic and charming qualities these days, but you're very sweet to say so. Do we have a free space I can put this little feast?"
She glanced down at his slippered feet, trying not to giggle at the sight but a little heart-warmed that the great doctor did that sort of thing. Her memories of Henry McCoy had ceased after high school, leaving her to reconcile that fit young man (all right, that incredibly fit young man...that incredibly fit, well-muscled, super-intelligent young man...) with the genial professor who stood before her now. He was...bigger. And bluer, of course, but that featured rather further down the list of surprises than many people might have expected.
Hank had always been big, broad and muscular and making quite a name for himself on the football team as a top-notch fullback. Nowadays, though, being in his forties and focusing on his intellectual pursuits more than anything else, and perhaps eating too many Twinkies than was advisable, he was sporting a bit of a paunch over his muscled abdomen. His X-Men uniform didn't fit quite as well as it used to, and while he could still fight when needed he felt he needed to spend a bit more time actually actively working on his body----hn. Not that he was thinking about how self-conscious he felt, being blue and perhaps carrying a little more soft weight than he should have been. He reached up, a massive hand with claw-like nails smoothing blue fur.
"Yes-----yes, of course," Hank said quickly, turning and moving to his desk. He stacked papers and pushed them all aside, clearing a space, and dragged a chair over for Ellie. "Unless you'd rather it be a true sort of picnic and spread out across the floor. I assure you, being a medical bay, the entire place is spotlessly clean no matter where you go.'
He hadn't even had a chance to speak to Cecilia yet. Cecilia was a doctor, she was a smart, clever, capable woman, so Hank had been meaning to chat with her about what he should do in order to win the affections of a smart, clever, capable woman. Without her advice Hank felt that he was a bit... high and dry. He couldn't exactly impress her with his incredible wealth of knowledge; she wasn't an imbecile.
"Thank you. Well, it's not really a true picnic, if I'm completely honest, but it's good to know that you're as conscientious a doctor as I thought you were." She placed the basket on the chair he'd brought for her, lifting the cloth off the top and spreading it over his desk. Careful not to disturb any of the remaining piles of paper (if someone had done the same in her office, murder would have been the only acceptable response), she began lifting a rather...eclectic selection from the large basket. The candles came first, with the obvious desire to set the right kind of mood being at the forefront of her mind. Either that, or she simply wanted to make the little slice of the medlab feel as much like a restaurant as she possibly could. Perhaps she'd thought enough to pack a little violinist in there, as well? It didn't seem altogether unlikely, given how well-prepared Ellie Roseveldt tended to be.
As she began pulling out the various accoutrements, it became more and more obvious to the careful observer that Ellie had been planning this for a few days: the pasta, sauces, breads and side-dishes were all sorted into their own containers, and she'd brought enough garnishes to keep the most discerning epicure happy. It could suggest a knack for cooking, or perhaps that she was a perfectionist freak, but the real truth of the matter was that Ellie had just been terrified of missing something, and looking a fool.
"You'll have to forgive me," she said, blushing slightly (though hopefully unnoticeably). "It's been so long since I've ever entertained such notions as these that I'm not sure if I'm even doing it right. Harry, you must let me know if I start to mess up." A quick, nervous laugh to defuse what she actually said, before she moved the (still not yet empty) basket off to one side. She'd drawn a bottle of white wine from the basket a long time beforehand, and offered him a glass. "The good thing about having a daughter with instant transportation means that the food is still piping hot! It's the little things in life that mean the most, I always find."
Shut up, Ellie. She couldn't help kicking herself -- why did she have to say stupid things like that?
Candles? Really? Hank immediately felt quite underdressed, straightening the tablecloth before she set anything down on it and then fixating on what she was bringing out instead of her----as if making sure that everything was set on the table just perfectly. Really, he couldn't bring himself to look at her, because he knew he was going to blush and revert back to a teenager again. He wasn't fifteen. That was absurd.
Did she cook all of this? It was beyond enough food, and certainly perfection, and Hank lifted his eyes to her and took time to remove his spectacles, which he'd forgotten about. He was about to ask her what kind of notions she thought she was entertaining but she'd moved on to small talk. "Your daughter teleported you?" He'dhave to look into the security system, hn. Ellie was part of the Brotherhood, after all. He couldn't forget that. "That's nice of her." He smiled warmly, sinking down to sit as he took the glass.
"This looks positively delicious, I feel myself salivating already," he said----and then made a face. That sounded disgusting, didn't it.
"All your natural functions are in proper working condition, then?" Ellie said with a grin, dismissing Hank's concern with a friendly nod. It reassured her -slightly- to see that he was in the same position she was: his weaknesses showing up all too clearly to her, and it was totally impossible to ignore them -- her vision simply didn't work that way. But she had never really explained her powers to anyone -least of all Henry- and now didn't seem exactly the right time. So she did the next best thing: Roseveldt ignored everything that her eyes and ears were telling her, and simply sat. "And yes, Danielle brought me. As a rule, I've taught her never to enter somewhere that she hasn't been invited to, but...well, this was a special case. I don't think it'll cause her a huge emotional struggle."
Ellie laughed, pouring the wine into her glass until it was about halfway full. "In any case, it's not all that practical. She can only teleport to places that she's already been, and has trouble with the positioning if it's too dark. I don't know why that is -- my research back in the day always indicated that teleporters had an affinity with darkness. But who knows...mutations are so varied that sometimes I wonder if there are any connections between them at all." She shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I came all this way, and still manage to hide behind talk about work. Let's try and avoid it from now on, shall we? Personal, social stuff from here on out?"
She began to dish up the food, pleased with the rising steam that suggested the food was plenty hot enough to eat. Her request that they talk about non-work things, however, had managed to catch even Ellie off guard -- what did they, after all, start off with? It had been twenty years or more since they had seen one another, and conversation didn't just flow naturally after that. But they had to try, and she was determined to make a good go of it.
"So where did you go, after high school?" Might as well start from the beginning.
Non-work things... non-work things. They could handle non-work things, couldn't they? Of course they could. Personal, social stuff, the kind of thing that normal people talked about. Hank talked about normal stuff all the time, so doing so with Ellie wasn't hard.
Nonetheless, he shoveled food into his mouth to take up time before he spoke. "Well, I went on----college, you know. Lots of it, until I get myself a doctorate in biochemistry and decide that the best thing to do is be horribly irresponsible and selfish and travel the world for a few years." He chuckled quietly, pushing his fork around on his plate. "Saw things, did things... really took time to experience things before I became old and dull and wouldn't want to go anywhere. I thought I took forever doing it but before I was thirty I was ending up with a job at the first mutant school... and I suppose you could say the rest is history."
He smiled warmly at her. "This was all before I was... ah... the way I am now. That was just about ten years ago." Clearly, he didn't want to discuss it much, so he went on with: "And you? You've done well for yourself. I know you have children... and you have a radio show... a late husband..."
Ten years? The mention intrigued Ellie -- the way Henry had seemed to deal with it so readily, the inner psychiatrist had assumed that the accident couldn't have been more than a fe years after high school. It took people decades, in some cases, to react to life-changing happenings, and this seemed to be about as life-changing as things got. For Harry to have accepted and dealt with it in such a (relatively speaking) short space of time spoke volumes about him.
"Oh, fairly well!" she replied, chasing a small tomato around her plate. "My show is on an...'indefinite hiatus' whilst the current government is in place. I think that's a veiled term for 'my boss is dead and they think I'll be next'. They don't know about my mutated little problem, you know? I shouldn't really complain -- it's hardly like I need to go back to the job; I mean, we've won, right?" Her tone made it fairly obvious that Ellie took no pleasure in her statements about Magneto and the Brotherhood's superiority, but exactly why she might have had so much trouble with it wasn't clear - a lot about Ellie Roseveldt wasn't really clear, of course. "But that all stemmed from college...from when I spent years training to become a doctor, years getting my experience and then...I bottled out. Once the children were growing, not long after Dexter was killed, I decided that I couldn't work with the institutions that had murdered him, and retrained as a psychiatrist."
Ellie's voice had taken on a bitter edge, and she steadied herself with a sip of wine before continuing. "You're so lucky, Harry. I mean, in some respects...in others, maybe not so much. But you saw the world, and learnt so many new things! Ended up in a place like this; I can feel the warmth." It wasn't hyperbole -- Ellie really could feel how much the people meant to each other within the Xavier Institute. It was, after the school's big weakness -- the ties that bound everyone inside, and Critic could perceive it instinctively. "I didn't travel, much as I'd have liked to. There never seemed to be any time, and...and I had children when I was still young--" The words 'too young' seemed on the tip of he tongue, but Eleanor never spoke them. "--so...you know. I just had to make do. I stayed in the Midwest, I joined the Brotherhood when Dexter was murdered, I left when I came to my senses, and I moved to the City to make up for my mistakes. It's your typical 'Lifetime movie' plot, you know?"
Hank chuckled quietly, smiling at her over the rim of his wine glass before taking a sip. "Give yourself a bit of credit, Ellie. Traveling the world or not, you've seen and done some amazing things," he said pleasantly. "After all, when you consider how many people who went to high school with us who've ... I don't know, ended up miserable and woefully uneducated and still remain in Dunfee because they long for more but can't figure a way out? Getting out of a rut is an extraordinary sort of thing."
He set down his glass and went back to his food, thoughtfully. "When this ends----and I'm certain it will----you should travel with me. I'd like to travel with you. I mean..." He cleared his throat, nodding. "Provided we aren't inundate with work, which is highly likely, but your children are grown----and they say the world is best traveled when one has the age and experience to appreciate it instead of take it for granted."
Ellie's laugh was, considering the circumstances, more genuine than it ought to have been. "Why, Harry McCoy! I don't know know if I should be terribly flattered that you just offered to take a grand tour with me, or insulted that you don't think my colleagues can hold on to power. I mean, do you think the Brotherhood of Mutants is run by a madman who got into something much bigger than he expected or something?" Her eyes twinkled. "We've been doing well so far -- not that I involve myself with the more violent aspects anymore. I'm strictly the "patch 'em up" girl now...and not even that, if you'd believe Deadlock. My medical assistant with massive delusions of grandeur." Ellie rolled her eyes, before sobering again -- Russel Gunn wasn't worth more than a passing mention, not when Beast had offered a great deal more.
"I think that my age and experience would enjoy a trip or two to far-flung destinations very much. The kids can take care of themselves, and -quite frankly- we'd deserve to let work wait for a little while, wouldn't we? After all, you and I both have spent far too long putting everyone else first...I don't have to have known you for decades to see that, Harry, and I expect the same can be said of me."
She turned a piece of meat over on her fork, looking over at him thoughtfully. "Tahiti always seemed nice, I thought. Perhaps Africa, as well. And, actually-- oh no, you'll laugh at me if I tell you." She giggled a little herself: Ellie did have an ideal destination, but it was so ridiculous that she laughed at it most of the time.
Hank raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, grinning slowly. "No. No, I promise I won't laugh at you, Ellie. What is it?"
Ellie's eyes widened in amused alarm, waving her hand in front of her as if to stave off questions. The fact that there was a cherry tomato on the end of the fork in that hand did little to make her seem at all sophisticated or, indeed, credible. Regaining her composure, she stifled another snort.
"Fine, fine," she said after a moment or two. "If you promise...I've always wanted to...well, I always had the dream to visit the North Pole." She sat back almost immediately, as if to put some distance between herself and the gales of incredulous laughter that she felt was sure to follow from any sane person. "I know, I know: there's nothing there but some polar bears, and it'd be almost impossible to get there anyway, but...I kinda like it! The remoteness, the fact that it's so untouched by people, the way it just seems to say 'this is nature, in all her beauty and deadliness'...it's stupid, Harry, but there you are!"
She refilled her wine glass, more to give him time to wonder whether or not she was a complete nutcase or just mostly, before she spoke again. "I mean, it's not like I'm booking the flights or anything...but maybe some day. If I had reason, or the resources...or the time. I don't know. What do you think?"
Hank watched her closely through all of this, his smile gentle and rather bemused----my, she was horribly presumptuous, wasn't she? He nodded vaguely as she talked, took another sip of wine, another bite of food. Finally:
"I think, then, that we will be traveling to the North Pole," he said.
Ellie's immediate reaction was one of amused agreement -- it would have been lovely to think that they simply could just drop it all and go off to distant climes, where petty squabbles between people didn't matter one jot, and the most pressing danger was not being eaten by a bear. It seemed like Hank shared her sense of humor, and she reached forward for another breadstick...
...until she looked at him again, properly this time, and realised that he seemed to be entirely serious. Eleanor lost interest in her breadstick, and regarded him somewhat imperiously -- she only stopped herself from being described as 'agape' thanks to the quick reflexes of her subconscious that reminded her she was on a date, and that gaping and staring weren't considered alluring states.
"You're...my heavens, Harry, you're serious, aren't you?" She sounded more surprised than incredulous. She really shouldn't have doubted that a man who worked in a place like the Institute could come out with those kinds of things and mean them -- by now, Ellie was resigned to the fact that her dreams usually stayed that way. "Would you--could we--should we? I just...oh my lord. That would be..." It was rare to see Critic lost for words, but there she sat, entirely at a loss but with an enormously thoughtful grin.
It faded slightly after a few second, but did not disappear. Instead, it was replaced by a positively sinful expression, and she leant forward conspiratorially. "But do you think the Authority would approve? I imagine Sage already knows where I am; running off like that to far-off places with you might seem a little...I don't know, traitorous?" The sparkle in her eyes, of course, seemed to suggest very clearly that Ellie Roseveldt likely had little problem with that state of affairs.
"We'd be traveling to the North Pole, not Jupiter," said Hank with a bit of a chuckle, resting his chin in his hand. "Authority be damned, Eleanor. You spend your entire life working hard to become a functional, independent adult; the last thing anyone wants is to be told when one may take a holiday and who one must go with."
He cleared his throat and stopped looking at her, going for his wine. "I'm not going to call myself rebellious by nature, but I'm not the most precise when it comes to following rules, you see." He offered her a slightly cheeky smile, but then sobered. "I'd prefer not to think about us in terms of X-Men and Brotherhood, Ellie; we are fellow intellectuals, we are partners in science and of medicine ... and despite our other pursuits we both are paid to save lives these days, regardless of opinion. Charles Xavier likes us to think of our similarities rather than our differences and this is hardly an exception to the rule. You were a friend of mine once; with our commonalities I see no reason for you not to be so now."
Ellie pushed her plate away, leaving the last few remnants to clear up later -- she was looking at Hank with a somewhat sad expression, almost as though she hated to disagree with him...which, to a certain extent, she did. They were both academics, and disagreement was a perfectly valid pastime (as was outright blazing argument), but she didn't like to dispute the man so soon after they'd reconnected. But here, it didn't seem like she had all that much of a choice. It was for his own good, after all.
"I'd like to think that our similarities could bridge this gap, Harry...but you can't simply dismiss that there is a gap. You might not like to think of us on different sides, but...well, we are. We..." She set down her wineglass, and raised her eyebrow expectantly. "We have two options available to us, Harry McCoy. Either I can tell you something important about me that might make the situation a little more dangerous for us both, or I can leave it alone and we can continue to reacquaint ourselves as we have been doing."
She smiled: mostly genuine, though perhaps a little strained. "I'm only giving you this option because of how much I like you, Harry. I -do- like you, I respect you and I'd like to be honest with you. But that honesty might complicate things, so I'm willing to let you choose."
Hank fell quiet, setting his fork down without eating the food that was speared on it. Oh. This was serious now, wasn't it. "Ellie ... I want you to be honest with me. I can handle a little complication these days----if I couldn't, I'd be dead. If you like me, respect me, and like to be honest with me... I respect you, like you, and would hate for you to be dishonest with me."
Ellie nodded, refilling her wine glass more out of a need for moral support than because she was thirsty. She wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do, but Henry had asked -- and she wasn't going to mess up this shot she had at getting to know the new and improved Harry.
"Alright then," she said, fixing her gaze: if she could look into his eyes, it would be easier to just speak, instead of being distracted by the screaming voice that was telling her this wasn't a good idea. "I'm not staying with the Brotherhood because I approve of their political ideals, or their social goals. I did do, twenty years ago, but now I couldn't disagree with them more. The fact that I joined at the zenith was..."
Ellie sighed. She was rationalizing something that didn't NEED to be rationalized. Henry would understand just fine. "Harry, when Magneto took over and I brought Danielle to the Institute? I told Professor Xavier that I would do anything to repay my debt...and I'm repaying it right now. I re-entered the Brotherhood to pass information on it back to Xavier and the X-Men. It's dangerous, and it's open to more difficulty now that somebody knows, but there you are. Your maternal psychiatrist friend from long ago is an international traitorous superspy. Isn't it glamorous?"
Hank sank back in his chair, his hand over his mouth, and for once he did look positively stunned. He wasn't sure how she did it, not when the Brotherhood had a telepath, and it was an extremely dangerous situation indeed.
"Oh, my stars and garters," he murmured. "Wh----hn. Would you like more wine?"