Disclaimer: Guess what? Bobby and Hank
aren't mine! Crazy isn't it! And also, the X-Men aren't mine! Unbelieveable
I know! OH! And one more thing! I'm not making a profit! On anything!
Rating: PG-13 I guess. Some cursing maybe. Some mild hinting
of adult situations. You'll live.
Archivers: Sure, just ask so I can bookmark your page and show
it to my friends.
Feedback: Always lovely.
I wasn't there when it happened. I was away at Muir Island doing
some research with Moira. Looking back now, I wish that I had been
there, after all, he is my best friend.
My name is Henry P. McCoy. Some people prefer to call me Hank, others
call me Beast. One person though called me buddy and best friend.
His name is Robert Drake, Bobby, and he hasn't spoken a word in three
months. I shall endeavor to begin at the beginning. I remember that
night clearly. I was discussing the finer points of Legacy Virus replication
(1) with Dr. McTaggart when we got a frantic call from Jean back in
Westchester. Apparently, Bobby hadn't come out of his room for dinner.
Bobby's never been one to miss a meal, so Jean had went to check on
him. She had found him sitting in his room staring out the window.
He didn't acknowledge her presence or her attempts to get him to respond.
Being a telepath, Jean had tried to speak directly into his mind only
to be shoved out violently by a mental block. This was highly unusual
to say the least.
Jean had then called the Professor who has even greater telepathic
skill. The Professor had scanned Bobby's mental block and thought
that it might harm him to try and open it with force.
I caught the first flight back to New York that night.
When I got home, I carried my friend down to my lab. He had shut
off all forms of communication. He didn't speak, he wouldn't eat,
and he hardly even blinked. Bobby was in some sort of waking coma
much like that of a schizophrenic. Since Bobby has never exhibited
any other symptoms of such a disorder, I was determined to find out
what disease or poison had delivered him into this stupor.
Two days later my heart wrenched when every test I had given him
had come back clear. There was no outside agent that had made my friend
into a statue. I had already crossed out the possibility that he had
come into contact with someone through the X-Men. There was no evidence
that he was being controlled in any way. My friend was lying there
lifeless, staring at the ceiling and I could do nothing.
Jean, Warren, and Scott all took turns sitting with our teammate
throughout this time. It was fortunate that it Jean was with him when
he woke. He looked right into her eyes and she could hear his mind
speak to her. ~No more words.~
That was it. No more words. At first, I was relieved when he was
no longer a vegetable, but the impact of that last statement took
time to sink in. Everyone was excited because of his presence at dinner
that night, and so it was easy to miss the fact that he didn't say
a word. He ate like a man possessed due to his lack of food for the
last three days. When the meal was finished, I followed him out into
the expansive back yard. I wanted to speak with him for a while and
tell him how much he meant to me, but such words are always hard in
coming so we sat quietly together in the grass. It was then that the
sculpting really started I guess. Bobby stared out into the dark and
slowly an icy form began to appear in front of us. It twisted and
turned as it grew. The noise was deafening in the silence. The sound
was like the scream of twisting metal, and I remembered thinking that
it was like a billion fingernails railing against the world's largest
chalkboard. I covered my sensitive ears and clenched my eyes shut
in pain. After a few moments there was silence again, and my ears
rang with discomfort. I opened my eyes and gaped in wonder. Bobby
had always used his mutant gifts creatively in the past, but this
was unlike anything I'd seen him do before. It was the figure of a
man in ice. The sculpture was oversized and sat at about six feet
tall. The man was on his knees with his head thrown back in a silent
scream. The figure's arms were thrown out to each side in defeat.
Bobby turned and looked into my eyes. I saw such pain in his icy
pools of blue. He sighed softly and left me sitting astonished, staring
at an embodiment of his soul.
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