xp_logs | LOG: Danielle and Hank

cultures and relationships collide in a steamy soap opera...or not ;)

Hank had prepared carefully for this. He and Danielle had chatted a little over dinner, and so forth, but there was a big difference between meeting someone to give him food, and meeting someone to have a large, still mostly strange man perform an ultrasound on you. He'd made a point of putting on more clothes than he usually wore - a t-shirt and jeans under the labcoat instead of the more comfortable shorts - since being mostly-naked and vulnerable was probably even less comfortable with an underdressed doctor as well.

He looked around when he heard the door open, and smiled his best smile. "Danielle, it's good to see you again," he said cheerfully. "And this time, to demonstrate my own expertise instead of merely enjoying yours... I really have been enjoying the meals you've provided us with while Lorna took her well-deserved holiday." He patted the padded exam-table encouragingly. "Jump on up here and let's take a look, shall we?"

Creeping into the exam room, Danielle tried to keep her paper gown closed. At least they let her wear socks or else she'd never get checked. But she had to pee. Badly. That overrode any fear or uncertainty she may have had about a large, smiling, blue furry doctor. Having met him before really wasn't helping. Nodding slightly, she hopped up onto the exam table, wanting to get it over with.

Hank covered her legs with the sheet, hitching it up to wrap around the lower curve of her stomach and giving her what he hoped was another reassuring smile. "I'll keep this brief," he said cheerfully. "But I have been tampering with the ultrasound equipment a bit, and I think you'll be pleased with the result. If you wouldn't mind hitching up your gown just a touch?"

Danielle complied, staring at the ceiling. Waterfalls. "Tampering?" she asked, slightly puzzled. That was rarely a good sign.

"Better picture quality, I hope," Hank explained. "No looking at a fuzzy white blur and wondering if it's an arm or a wing." He put the gel on her stomach, and warmed the rather cold wand in his palm before rubbing it gently over her skin. "It's always a problem with mutant pregnancies, since we can't actually *assume* two arms and two legs..."

Danielle gulped, this was bad. Very bad. She hadn't thought of a baby with a mutation like that, it was bad enough she couldn't control her powers because of the rampaging hormones, and now she had to worry about a baby with wings? "I don't want to know," she said, "Just if it's healthy."

Hank saw the gulp and patted her arm gently. "Please don't worry too much," he said gently. "I know of only... let me think... two infants who showed signs of physical mutations in the womb, one of them being me. The outsized hands and feet I was born with, the fur came later." He switched the machine on and got started, looking at the screen. He'd at least fixed it so that it was in shades of pink and red rather than black and white... he hoped it'd look more like a baby and less like an alien, that way.

"But you had human parents. I'm a mutant," all the fears she had worked hard at placating were re-emerging. Happy and healthy seemed to be ideas of the past, of happier times. Now there just seemed to be mutations and control, even if it was her mutation and lack of control more than her baby's.

"Given the radiation levels my father was exposed to as a young man, they were just glad I only had one head," Hank pointed out. "For all we know, my dear, your baby may be baseline human... there's no guarantee that he or she will be a mutant at all." He patted her hand gently. The machine ran a little slow, now, but a picture was beginning to form. "And despite my physical mutation - or because of it - I've always been as healthy as a horse, so there's an upside to it."

"But I want a normal baby!" she almost whined, trying to calm down. Danielle did not whine. "I want a normal, healthy, happy baby!"

Hank looked at the picture, kicking himself rather for saying anything in the first place. "Well, I see two wee arms and... well, only one leg, but from the side I wouldn't see the other anyway." At four months the baby was still curled up and looking a bit like an alien, but a NORMAL alien. "No, no sign of any physical mutations at all." He patted her stomach gently. "I'm sorry I worried you, Dani, that was thoughtless of me."

"It's okay then?" she asked, double checking. Deep breathes. Calm.

"Perfect, and probably as lovely as his or her mother." Hank smiled... a little charm never hurt. "Would you like to see? You can't tell the gender, and it's still a little disproportionate, but starting to look quite babylike."

Sitting up on her elbows, Dani peered at the little TV monitor. "It looks like a sea monster, ain't it?" she grinned, reassured for the moment. "All head and no body! Gonna be smart!"

Hank grinned. "But perfectly normal for the gestational period," he said reassuringly. "And I do believe he or she is sleeping right as we speak." He envied her, teenage pregnancy and all, he thought a little sadly. He'd always wanted children.

Nodding, Dani pulled the gown back down, "Can I go pee?" she asked, really needing to go.

"Of course." He grinned, and bowed teasingly over her hand. "I could not find it in my heart to deny anything to such a charming young lady."

She ignored him, there were more important things to take care of at the moment. Ultrasounds requiring full bladders were a product of the devil. She emerged a few minutes later, "Everything is okay?"

"Everything is fine." Hank smiled. "Do you have any questions? Requests?" He remembered. "Oh! And I have something for you." He retrieved the small blue teddy from his desk drawer. "I was buying gifts for everyone, and this... well, looked rather like me." He smiled, holding it out. "The first of many, I suspect - from my observation, having a baby results in entire mountains of stuffed toys simply appearing out of nowhere."

"I can't..." Danielle looked down at her feet, it as easy to forget that many people here were elders, "but thank you."

"You must. It's traditional." He took her hand gently and wrapped it around the tiny bear. "It's only a very small gift, but the tradition must be observed. Prospective mothers receive gifts in trust for their children... it's really for the baby, you know."

"I..." she looked at the little blue bear in her hand. It was cute. And it wasn't for her. "Thank you," she said, looking Dr. McCoy in the eye.

"That's better." He returned the look, smiling encouragingly. "And may I add, it is simply a crime to conceal those lovely eyes from the world by looking at your toes all the time."

She looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. And people said she was crazy, sometimes. "You're a doctor," she replied, trying to explain. "I...it's respect."

"Then I appreciate it," he said gravely. "Thank you. I get so little respect around here," he added, grinning, and then he sobered again. "I will give you one piece of advice, however... to avoid looking at an obvious mutant can sometimes cause offense," he said seriously. "It can be taken as a sign that you find their appearance so repugnant that you do not want to look at them, which I'm sure is not your intent."

"No!" Danielle denied vehemently, trying to explain, "You're a teacher and a doctor! I only meant respect! If I looked an elder in the eye without permission, you don't do that! It's rude!" Her grandparents had made certain that she knew proper manners and she had tried to be on her best behaviour at Xavier's, so they wouldn't kick her out too.

"I understand, and I do appreciate it." He patted her shoulder soothingly. The poor kid... she was clinging so determinedly to what she knew, so that the world wouldn't be entirely strange and overwhelming. "When meeting someone with an obvious physical mutation, however, it is polite to make eye-contact briefly - to show that you do not find them repulsive - and then lower your eyes if you consider it necessary. Something I doubt anyone anywhere else would know," he added ruefully. "I doubt there are many places in the world besides this one where etiquette between mutants of varying types and levels is ever discussed."

Danielle nodded, looking up at him. "Can I?" she asked, reaching out slowly. His fur looked really soft and warm. At his nod, she stroked his arm tentatively, head cocked to one side as if she were seeing something inside him. His fur was as soft as it looked, "You're like a bear. Honourable but playful too."

He smiled, pleased that she seemed to be relaxing. "I get referred to as the Big Blue Bear sometimes," he agreed. "And playful certainly. Honourable... well, I try." He grinned. "Surrounded so many charming ladies, honour can be a burden," he said mock-sadly. "But I persevere."

She shook her head, a mass of hair falling over one arm, "You know I'm married," a small grin escaped anyways, it was nice to be appreciated sometimes, "My husband would be very upset to hear you speak like this."

Hank... blinked. And blushed under his fur. "I do apologize," he said sheepishly. "I fear I have allowed my tongue to run away with me a little. I have a tendency to flirt in fun with most of the ladies hereabouts, and forgot that you wouldn't know." She looked a little embarrassed, presumably at the misunderstanding, and he smiled. "Were I ten years younger, mind you, you would have to beat me off with a stick," he added. "Baby, husband and all. Since, sadly, my advanced age and status as doctor and teacher forbids it, I will simply have to settle for reminding you, now and then, that you are both beautiful and appreciated."

Tucking her errant hair back behind one shoulder, she stifled another smile. He was too smooth for his own good, really. "Then it's a good thing Sheldon isn't here, right now. He thinks flirting involves wiping your hands after working with grease pans and letting me watch him play basketball," she rolled her eyes good naturedly.

Hank sighed sadly. "Young men of today simply don't know how to woo a lady properly," he said sadly. "When I was that age, I memorized simply reams of poetry and romantic quotations." He paused and grinned. "Of course, actually working up the nerve to talk to an actual girl at some point would have helped too. In hindsight, that would also have been a good idea."

"Poetry don't mean nothing, though, is just flowery nothing. Knowing cars, that gets you a job." Danielle pointed out, "And jobs mean money."

"My dear, poetry got me my first PhD. Which led to my second and third. And my medical doctorate as well." Hank shook his head. "Poetry opens the mind, and allows new thoughts to emerge. Besides," he added, grinning. "One cannot work ALL the time. The soul must have food, as well as the body."

"You got multiple degrees?" Impressed and jealous did not begin to describe how she felt, though she tried not to show it, "Then you're lucky. I got a job at 14 because social security wasn't enough to live on. College ain't a option."

"I was working long hours on my parent's farm, out in the middle of nowhere in Illinois, when I was ten," Hank said sympathetically. "And since mutants generally do not qualify for scholarships, I wasn't sure I'd ever make it to college, either. But the Professor..." He smiled. "He paid for everything. And if you want to go to college, I'm sure that can be arranged... is there anything you particularly wish to study?"

"I can't pay for it, so why bother?" Danielle spit back angerly, seventeen and her life was already written, she thought bitterly, "I don't accept charity."

Hank shook his head. "Then do what I did," he said gently. "Go to college, study hard, and then repay him by returning here to help others. I could find an easier, better paying job almost anywhere in the world, simply by making it known that I am available... but I stay here, to help other students the way he helped me, to give them the chances that I was given. That's why most of the students stay here to teach, I think... because we want to repay in some way the gifts we were given - not to the Professor, who doesn't need it, but to the school, which does."

"It ain't that easy! You ain't got a husband or a kid! You ain't got a family to support! No one cares if you can't afford to eat. I gotta pay for the clothes Lorna made me get, I gotta pay to see you for this ultrasound! I gotta pay for my room! Life ain't free, Dr. McCoy, to do what you want, even if it needs doing," why didn't people understand this?

"The ultrasound... and all the other medical care you recieve from me... is a gift. My way of paying back what *I* owe." Hank said firmly, trying to explain it in a way that she would understand. "It's the same for the rest of the staff here. We give you what we were given... a chance for your life to change. In time, when you're finished with the school, I hope you'll do the same thing.... help those who need help, in any way you can, without expecting them to pay you back." He sighed. "I... do you know the story about four men named Somebody, Everybody, Anybody, and Nobody?"

"But you're going to tell me, right?"

"I am." He sat her down firmly on a chair, and perched on the edge of his desk. "Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody lived together in a house," he
began. "One day, they realized that the roof of the house required repairs, lest it leak. But none of them really wanted to do the job, because it was hard." He raised a finger, having come to the salient point. "Everybody thought Somebody should do it. Anybody could have done it, but in the end, Nobody did it. And the roof leaked, because when Nobody does a job, it doesn't get done well."

Danielle closed her eyes, breathing deeply. "Understood, sir. May I go?"

The Professor doesn't give charity," he said quietly. "He invests in people. He gives them money, and education, and a chance, in the hope that they'll grow to be people who don't say 'somebody should do something' but '*I* should do something'. Because somebody has to, otherwise nobody will... and a lot of children, and young people like you, won't get the help that they need." He patted her hand and let her slide out of the chair. "Please think about it," he said gently. "There are worse callings, than helping those in need. And I'm sorry for lecturing, and yes, you may go."

"Thank you," Danielle whispered, looking at her feet. Whether knowingly or not, he had reminded her of herself. It was embarassing that she would forget so soon.

He nodded, opening the door for her. "Danielle, please feel free to come to me at any time, if you want to talk... about anything. Or the other doctors, if it's something you wouldn't feel comfortable discussing with me," he said gently. "It's why we're here, to take care of you and help you... that being what doctors and teachers do."

Nodding, she slipped out the door quietly. "Okay."