The Hoover Building.

Alas, and finally, here is the end. I hope it meets your expectations. Your other fic will be a time in coming.

Title: Not One Quarter Given
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men: First Class.
Characters: Hank, Charles, Alex, OCs.
Words: 4418/7806
Prompt: Henry's family comes to take him home.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing: Henry/Charles.
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Language, Self Loathing, Mentioned Character Death.
Summary: Hank is finding it hard to accept his new self. Can Charles reach him or will secrets from his past and buried emotions drag him beyond hope?
Author's Note: For my auction winner echo_fangirl.
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Part 3/3


Light, white and brilliant, blocked all else out. His mind empty, Hank focused his breathing in even flows. In slowly, then out slowly. All was peace here. He could be at one with his mind.

The slow rumble of a bell in his ears provided a bases on which to build his world. The constant gave him security. It was the single thread upon which he wove his emotions and mind around. He let the sound pass through him until his heart and breathing matched the beat.

Unfolding his hands, he tried to set them on his knees. Instead, his fur caught on the edge of his robe and tickled his skin. The elicited shiver ran up his arms and down his spine until he was baring his teeth. A low growl crawled up his throat without him even knowing why.

"It's not working." Gritting his teeth, he clenched his eyes tight. "Where did you get this meditation exercise crap again?"

Charles sighed as he stopped tapping the bell. After three hours, they were both frustrated with this. "It comes from India. A friend of mine swears by it."

It was by sheer will alone that Hank kept from making a remark. The less said about Charles' friends, the happier they would both be.

With a disappointed exhalation, he stretched out his legs in front of him. Opening his eyes, he glanced over at Charles.

The other man was guiding his chair's controls over to the bookshelf behind his desk. He quickly put the bell back on the higher shelf then faced Hank in return. "If you give me a few more tries, I'm sure this one might prove useful." His hopeful expression was strained around the eyes.

They were burning through every known treatment and method of controling his growing rage. So far, only the medication had worked well enough to give him hope. Unfortunately, the side effects left him unable to even focus his thoughts enough to put bread in a toaster, let alone to remember how exothermic heat made toast.

Suddenly, Hank felt so weary. Sagging, he slumped forward a little under the weight of all his problems.

There was no helping it. It was time for both of them to face facts. He was going to continue his aggressive descent until he ended up hurting someone unintentionally. The belief that he could control this any other way was a delusion. This was truth, this was reality. He was dangerous, unless properly medicated. The thought of not being able to reason ever again left him fighting off a whimper.

Hank startled a bit when he felt a large hand settle over the crown of his head. Feeling strong fingers curl through his hair eased his reaction a bit, but he still froze under Charles' touch. He didn't want to hurt the man. The thought that he could even do such a thing made him cringe.

The urge to turn and seek more than comfort was strong. He had the feeling it would be given, but he couldn't chance it. Still, he held back. What if he could never have this again?

"You will never be deprived of my comfort, my dear Henry."

Hearing those words made him whimper softly. Oh, how he wished there was more to it. He wanted so much to believe in them. Yet, he knew, that it was a lie.

"If we're done here, I have to get back to my lab." At Charles' sigh, Hank felt his stomach sink a little further. It was better he keep the distance between them now. Things would be better that way in the long run.

There would soon come a time when he would be forced to leave. He only hoped it was before he made Charles hate him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Eraser in hand, Hank frowned at the schematics before him. The paper was smudged with days of erased graphite. Soon, he would have to start over because the paper would be too dark to even see those lines which he wanted to save. If he could just remember what exactly the calculations had been, everything else would fall into place.

Four months and he still wasn't any where nearer to his final specs.

"Maybe you should take some time away from them."

Clenching his eyes shut, Hank dropped his chin to his chest. He didn't want to be bothered right now. It was already frustrating enough that he couldn't figure this out a second time. Telling others of his failure was one blow to his pride too many.

When he felt hands slide over his spine, he jerked forward with a gasp. They spread soothingly over the knots in his lower back, gently massaging in slow circles. It took him a full minute to relax into it. Bending forwards, he rest his forehead against the top of his drafting table.

"The Blackbird is not worth making yourself sick worrying over." Charles' thumbs dug into the dip above his hips and he gasped.

His hips thrust forward with each rub over the sensitive flesh. He moaned with pleasure, rumbling deep in his chest. "I figured these designs out the first time in a matter of weeks. I have the designs, but the finer details have eluded me for months."

Charles made a sound like he was muffling a chuckle. "You're a genius, Hank, not a miracle worker." Breathing deeply, his hands stopped moving. "Einstein was in his sixties, Oppenheimer his fourties, when they perfected the most powerful weapon in all of creation. You're a few weeks out from eighteen, I believe you've got some time to spare."

Instead of alleving his stress, it only served to rhile him up. Exhaling in a forceful rush, Hank stood up fast enough to knock the older man's hands away from him. He spun to face the professor. The angry retort he had been about to make died on his lips at those large, blue eyes staring up at him in concern. He froze there a moment, uncertain of how to proceed.

Thankfully, the man took pity on him. Grasping Hank's hand within his own, he smiled almost shyly. "Speaking of your birthday, I must admit my coming here, I had an ulterior motive. Have you made any plans?"

Hank was at a complete loss of words. Of all the questions he had been expecting, that was the last one. He found himself shaking his head no.

"Would you like to have dinner with me?"

Unable to face that hopeful expression a moment longer, he closed his eyes. This was foolish. There was no way he could accept the invitation. Things were too chaotic. His life was so upended from the change that he didn't even know if he could feel human. "Yes."

"Wonderful!" Gripping Hank's hand tightly, Charles kissed his furry knuckles and grinned. "I'll make all the arrangements."

What had he just agreed to?

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tooth brush in hand, Hank leaned over the sink to spit in the basin. The rushing hot water washed away the last of his toothpaste down the drain. He watched it go with an aloof fascination. Such a simple thing, it was really an amazing feat of remarkable techology.

Running hot water. They were all so used to it, he couldn't imagine living without it. The thought that it hadn't always existed left him confused.

Hank felt untouched by things he saw. They were distant and almost beyond reach. He was almost floating above it all. This wasn't a feeling he was used to.

When he looked up into the mirror, he found himself smiling. A little drunk on the feeling, he could only stare at his reflection in amazement. Seven hours later, he still couldn't believe it.

Charles had asked him out. On a date!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Mornings were usually quiet on the weekends. Teens much to be young to imbibing spent these nights getting drunk and partying. The mornings after were always featured frequently empty chairs or people moving slowly and trying not to make any noise. It was a peaceful ritual that Hank had come to rely upon.

Carefully swirling his spoon through the oatmeal, Hank blended the brown sugar into the infinity symbol. He should have been eating the cereal, but couldn't quite bring himself to finish his breakfast. There was rarely a time he had such quiet. Playing with his food gave him more of it to relish.

All too soon he would have to face the others again. They would either wake from their stupor or climb from their crypts to rise and walk among the living. The imagery made him smile.

"What pleases you this morning?" The whirr of Charles' chair entering the room half-drowned out the question.

Yet, Hank heard every word of it. Hmming to himself, he shrugged. It was hard to explain why he was feeling so pleasant today. Thinking on it would lead to focusing on why it was important. That inevitably brought about darker thoughts. No, it was better to smile and say nothing.

As if sensing this, Charles greeted him with an understanding grin in return. Taking his usual place at the head of the table, he reached for his napkin from under the silverwear. "What is on the menu today?"

"Porridge and something vaguely resembling an omlette." Groaning from under an unwashed mop of hair, Sean kept his face planted on his arms. "Don't ask me if they're any good; the idea of eating makes me sick."

"Yes, that is quite the nasty side effect of too much drinking, I'm afraid." Hank knew he shouldn't be taking so much pleasure in that fact. It was unseemly and made him out to be a nobbish type. So what. He hummed in amusement and let the spoon clatter to his bowl with extra effort.

Sean and two others moaned their distress. "Please, try to keep it quiet."

Charles took this moment to interject. "Where is Alex?" When there came no response, he looked to his plate. "His usual then, I see. If this keeps up, I may have to revise the rules concerning teachers conduct."

Any protest was cut short by the arrival of the steward. He carried with him a silver tray and a tiny envelope.

Taking a sniff in appreciation, Charles closed his eyes. "Eggs Benedict with Poached Salmon. Give my compliments to the chef. If they're even half as delectable as they smell, I'll be drifting in a sea of pleasure. I do hope the sauce is a little runny, though, I like dipping my toast..." he trailed off as Sean ran from the dining room, a hand to his mouth.

Served him right. Now he was just being peevish. Hank didn't care. Looking to Charles, he smiled over the steward's arm as he served the breakfast. When the letter was offered to him, he raised an eyebrow in shock. "For me?"

The steward only nodded once in ascent.

It was as if the geity of the morning was suddenly sucked from the room. A chill crept over him and his heart fluttered in nervous anticipation. Swallowing, Hank reached for the letter.

An amused smile in place, Charles broke a piece of his biscut off. "What's the matter, Henry? You look as if the devil himself had written you."

"You might not be far off." Taking the letter, Hank had to swallow to wet his mouth. "Aside from present company, no one knows I'm here." The dred translated to his shaking hands while he tore the envelope open. Inside he found a small, white card. The hauntingly faint smell of perfume drifted to his nose and he snorted.

"Well, what does it say? Who has managed to track you down?" Evidently, Charles couldn't keep his curiosity under control any longer.

The one side was completely blank. Turning it over, Hank tried to process why the perfume was familiar. It came to him the moment he saw the words.

'It is time.' Written in block lettering, the hand was obvious to one who had been exposed to it all their life.

It couldn't be. He had left all that far behind.

Numb, he dropped the card to the table. The world around him grew distant. He could vaguely hear someone speaking, saying his name, but he couldn't focus on them. Standing up from the table, he walked slowly out of the room.

Brain on autopilot, he focused on his next destination. It took him a second to recall just what that was. He had an exercise routine this morning. So, he headed for the gymnasium. That would give time to come down and think.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Grinding his teeth, he resisted the urge to smash Alex's smug face with the nearest solid object. As it was, he raised his chin and glared down upon the other teen. "Your belief is mistaken and your questioning is completely out of line."

Alex snorted, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to physically dispell the tension. It did not work. "Come on, Hank, you can't tell me it stayed the same." Cocking his head to the side, he glanced up with a tiny smirk. "Why don't you give us a peak?"

His rage was swift and violent, so much that it startled Hank. Before he knew it, he had Alex by the collar and was hoisting him up towards the ceiling.

The movement was so fast that Alex hadn't the time to gasp before his heels were swinging three feet off the ground. Eyes wide, he was shaken violenty, head jerking back and forth.

Fisting the teen's shirt, Hank snarled deep and rumbling. "You will learn to respect me or I will..." Hearing his voice saying those words snapped something in Hanks head. It was painful and almost physical as he grew aware of the world around them. Then he realized the entire gymnasium had gone deathly quiet.

Hank stared in horror, his face slack, mouth hanging open, up at Alex. He wasn't moving...

Hank came to with a startled gasp, his every muscle in his body taut with tension from the dream. Breathing heavily, he dragged a clawed hand down his face. The sweat drenched fur clung to the pads of his fingers. Reliving the nightmare in his mind, he shuddered in horror.

Why was this happening to him? Hadn't he fought it enough to finally be free? When would it ever be over?

Teeth clenched he growled deep in his throat. Hearing the snarl, he closed his eyes in resignation.

They were right. It was more than past time. He had been self-deluded long enough. Making this decision was the easiest portion.

The hard part would come tomorrow when he informed the others. Somehow, thankfully, he knew he would not be alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Spine rigid, Hank watched the sun climb through the distant trees. Dull in brilliance, but a vibrant that red ominously bled across the whole sky. His eyes ached watching it. A lack of sleep made them burn the longer he watched. He wanted to enjoy it this one time.

It wouldn't be long now.

How often was it that he had laid in this bedroom, dreaming about a better life? Not that things were bad. He hadn't faced much adversity here. Aside from the occassional stare, he didn't stand out any more. He had everything he could want, from his lab, to people who accepted him for who, if not what, he was.

That particularly would be the hardest part about all this. He really did like the other people here. Even Alex and his smartass comments made him feel welcome in their own, twisted way.

And Charles. Hank's heart quickened a few beats. How could he leave without thinking of that man? He tried so hard. There wouldn't be any of this without him. This place, his home, was shaping into something out of a fairytale. A magical school where anything could happen, and did, it was almost too fantastical to imagine.

The sun was now in the canopy, the trees waving their leaves blocked it out. Hank sighed in regret. Another last chance gone.

A knock came at his door.

He didn't turn to see who it was. There was no need from the obnoxious banging. "Yes, Alex?"

Snorting, the teen poked his head in the door. "Hey, you got some people out here asking about you. You expecting anybody?"

Hank silently nodded. "Tell them I'll be right out." He sighed again, turning away from the window. He had seen all he wanted to.

~~~~~~~~~

The march down the hall felt almost formal, like soldiers on parade. It was just him holding his bag, yet it seemed enough. The clack of his dress shoes echoed off the mahogany walls. There wasn't any other noise in the hall. Even in the dimlight of morning, he could tell there wasn't anyone else about.

It didn't matter, he knew where they would be.

Eventually, his footsteps brought him to the grand staircase and the entrance of the great hall. Stopping at the top, he found them. The senior staff were gathered in the foyer, the students hiding amongst the many nooks. They looked to be peeking like curious children, which he supposed they were.

Juxtaposed from them, standing inside the main doors, were three figures all in white. Their great cloaks covered them from head to toe. Only their gloved hands and white shoes were visible from under the heavy garments. Hank recognized them easily. He knew the names of each person. Two taller dwarfed the short one in the middle. They were here for him, as they promised.

A throat cleared, he wasn't sure which, and all heads turned to him. At the center of attention, he held his chin high and began to descend the staircase.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex cross his arms and glare at them. He prayed the other teen wouldn't make too big a scene.

The smallest of the three stepped forward, her hand raised to him. "Come, Henry, it's time to go home." Her steady tenor held a note of welcome, yet it was obviously a command. Her face was obscured by thin cloth, but he could see her in his mind's eye and knew that she was taking in every detail of his appearance.

"Look, I don't know who you are, lady," Alex started, then quickly trailed off at a glance from Charles.

At his words, the two larger figures stepped forwards. Their hands unclenched, forming into claws. They were stopped short ahead of their next step by the woman raising her other hand.

Hank paused ten steps up from the bottom. He stared upon her for a moment before dropping his eyes. Suddenly, he didn't want her looking at him. His cheeks burned, but knew they couldn't tell under his fur.

The tension built in large room until the whirring of Charles' chair broke in. Moving forwards of his staff, he smiled at her. Offering his hand, he appeared to go for a harmless look. "Hello there, I'm Professor Charles Xavier. Welcome to my home and school for the gifted. You must be related our dear Hank."

Her hood moved to indicate she was now looking at Charles.

He had a moment of dread clench in his chest. What would she say or do to him? When she made no other move, he sighed in relief. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he raised the case at his side and continued on down the steps.

He felt their eyes on him, but kept his attention focused solely on her. "I'm ready to go, grandmother."

The others gasped and murmured in shock at his words.

She nodded and held out her hand to him again. The tips of her gloved fingers were oddly shaped, drawing to a rounded point. "Come."

As he started to reach out, he heard a snort from Alex, again. Hank closed his eyes with a wince. This was going to get ugly, fast.

"So, that's it, you're leaving? Grandma shows up, becons, and you come running to heel like a well trained puppy?" The other teen's irate comment shifted the atmosphere of the room from shock to irritated.

It didn't help things with the hulking shapes behind his grandmother, and they began to growl. It was eerily familiar, one he had heard from himself several times over the past several months.

Staring to them, Hank swallowed down his urge to respond. "Please." He didn't know to whom he addressed it. All he wanted was for this to be over as fast and painlessly as possible.

That was when Charles chose his moment to interfer, again. His chair's motor ground out until he was within reach of them. "Hank. Henry. What 'is' going on here?" The emphasis on the word indicated he wanted to know the truth, not any comfortable fabrication.

Feeling numb, Hank turned what he knew to be his own bloodshot eyes upon Charles. Seeing the man sitting there in his Sunday formal made his chest clench. He took a shuddering breath and looked him in the eyes. "It's for the best. I should go now, while I still can."

Charles, damn him, narrowed his eyes as some insight came upon him. "You're afraid, not of us or them, but yourself." He sighed. "You knew they were coming. How long?"

"All his life."

Both Charles and himself turned to face his grandmother. She was closer now, her hand still held up for him to take. Guilt and shame made him look down at his feet. They should have left by now.

Feeling a hand upon his own, he looked down to see Charles holding it. He faced the man once more, torn between letting go and gripping it tighter. Hank felt light and tenuous, like he was on the edge of something vast and earth shattering.

"Why are you so afraid that you are running away from us?" The words sounded far more intimate coming from Charles than they should have been. It was almost as if he were asking the question, but with himself as the subject. There was genuine hurt in his eyes to go along with the question.

Closing his hand tight, Hank trembled. The ache from earlier was returning and he feared it would grow worse. "I don't want to hurt you. And, if I stay here, I know I will." He sniffed, trying to rein in his emotions. "The dreams. It's already starting."

"But," Charles smiled in confusion, "I thought we already settled this. I can help you overcome your aggression and fears."

"If that is all you believe it is, be thankful you have not seen the true monster beneath." His grandmother's words were scathing, clearly contemptuous at their emotional display. "You are no more prepared to handle what is to come than his mother."

Hank flinched as if she had physically struck him.

"Yes. You remember that, don't you." She took another step towards him. "Tell him, Henry. Inform him of how your parents thought love would be enough. Then you can show him the horrors of the truth they found out the hardway."

"Shut up!" Dropping his bag and Charles' hand, Hank whirled on her. Claws out, he bared his fangs in an open snarl. "You leave him out of this!" His rage felt thick and burning under his skin. The urge to give in and attack was strong enough that it left him shaking.

Through it all, she stood there, impassive in her cloak. After a moment of silence, she curled her hand tight. "Are you through?"

That was when he realized, she was right. He had made his decision. Standing up, he composed himself best he could. "Yes."

"Good. Then come along. We've dallyed enough." She turned to go, her shadows with her.

"I'm not going."

His grandmother stopped mid-stride. Head raising slightly, she gave no response for several moments. Then she shook her head and walked out without another word.

She was followed by the two men. The door closed behind them with a resounding thump.

With that, he felt plucked like a leaf, and cast adrift on the wind. Stunned, he stared off at nothing in the following silence. What had he just done? Had he really done that just now? The world was quiet on both those questions.

"All right, what the hell just happened here?" As always, Alex picked the wrong time to speak up.

Unable to come up with anything, Hank bent down and picked up his bag. He fended off Charles' seeking touch and headed back up the stairs. The journey was quieter this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Confident fingers slid through his hair, carding it softly over his head. Eyes closed, he let Charles continued to stroke his head in comfort. They burned still, but he had stopped crying hours ago. He still felt too numb to think much on what he had done. Yet, the burden was too great for him to carry on alone.

Gripping the thigh beneath his cheek, he exhaled gently. "She was seventeen, they both were." His throat felt thick and he had to swallow twice before continuing. "It started out slowly, just dreams. It had grown to a snapped word here and there by the time I came along. When I was old enough to notice, she had bruises and scratches."

Charles cupped his cheek, patting it comfortingly with his fingers. "It's okay. You're not him."

"It wasn't his fault, neither of them were really to blame." He tried to believe it. Years later, he still knew better deep inside, though. "They ignored everything he had been taught to believe all his life because they were in love. They hoped it would be enough to stop what happened."

"What happened to your mother," Charles asked, as if he was afraid he already knew the answer.

"One night, in a rage, he tore her apart, and they hunted him down like a rabid dog." He could still hear her screaming. Hank clutched desperately at Charles.

"There's no guarantee that's going to happen to you. You're a different man." Charles leaned down to kiss the top of his head. "For goodness sake, Henry, you're a big, blue furball of a man."

"So was he, by the end." There was no response to that. Closing his eyes, he focused on his breathing.



THE END..........................