Gravity pt. 2
Set a couple of weeks after the Astonishing X-Men Breakworld arc, Beast joins S.W.O.R.D. only to find that he and Special Agent Brand don't get along. PG-13, romance. Beast/Brand.
-------------------
Henry kept his eyes trained on the ghost of a moon hanging in the late afternoon sky. He and Brand had little to say to each other after their brief standoff as to how the check should be paid, but as they climbed into the uncomfortably cramped spacecraft cabin she commented that the Peak, S.W.O.R.D.’s space station, would be near aligned with the moon by the time they ascended. Brand had sunk back into her routine of unreadable stoicism, her reactions a mystery once more. Henry didn’t much care. If this was the so-called compatibility Brand once insisted was there between them, he had an unpleasant time ahead of him. He should have just stayed at the mansion.
He shifted in his seat. The craft was made to seat two, but with the addition of the suitcase in his footwell he had little room. The recycled air smelled like her-sweat and leather-but not enough to imply she had been using the ship for very long. Her personal craft, he decided, probably seats one. Bored with searching the skies for the glitter of the Peak, Henry let his gaze wander over the control panels. For the most part, it looked brand new, but a corner covered in blinking lights and buttons near Brand’s head was discolored. Henry put his hand out to touch it, making Brand duck under his elbow so she could still see the screens.
“You’d make a good door, but not a window,” she said, her tone flat. Autopilot had engaged minutes ago-she was playing the helmsman for show. Any reason to stay quiet, avoid his gaze.
“Is this rust?” He pulled his hand back and inspected the smudge of red-brown that came away. Rolling it between his fingers, it felt more liquid than solid.
“It’s blood.”
Henry raised an eyebrow. “Alien?”
“Mine. I told you, mild concussion.”
Henry would have expected her to bleed green. “You really should let me have a look at you when we get to a decent facility.”
Brand ventured a glimpse in his direction, or what Henry assumed was a glimpse from behind those cold glasses of hers. “I said I’ll be fine. It’ll smart for a while, but we have painkillers at home.” Her mouth tensed in a half-smile half-grimace. “I’m surprised for the concern, though. After what happened back there, I thought you’d be happy to see me suffer a little.”
“I’m a doctor.”
“I won’t take it personally, then.” What Henry wouldn’t give to be a psychic right now. She was playing games with him again, he was sure. Trying to appeal to his sympathy, manipulate him into forgiving her. He opened his mouth to reply, but she stopped him and pointed up. “See that bit of light, looks like a star?” He followed her gesture. A blue-white pinpoint was growing in the distance. “That’s the Peak. Now that we have visual confirmation, I gotta radio the guys, let ‘em know we’re here. No more time to chat.”
“Oh, and how I will miss the scintillating conversation we’ve enjoyed together,” he said drily.
“It could’ve been worse, I could’ve sent Sydren to pick you up. Our resident psychic’s more casually invasive than I could ever dream to be, and he takes about five minutes to spit out a single sentence. Threatens to eat people’s heads a lot.”
“The company you keep sounds as charming as yourself,” Henry sighed. There was nowhere to wipe his bloody fingers on, which meant it would dry and turn to little flakes in his fur. He forgot to pack a towel.
Brand turned to him fully. “Look, you can keep insulting me or you can listen to what I have to say, and I don’t think I’ll have time or the privacy to say it once we get to the Peak.” She ducked her head as she took off her glasses.
Henry held up his hands to stop her. “If you’re trying to make a pass at me, I’m really not in the-“
“Shut up already! I crossed a line, back in the bar. I recognize that now. I’m not very good with people, all right? So sometimes what comes out of my mouth sounds a lot worse than it did in my head.” Those eyes again, unblinking and ready to take anything he could dish out.
He lowered his hands, mouth hanging open slightly. “Am I hearing this correctly? Is Special Agent Brand apologizing to me? You didn’t apologize for kidnapping the X-Men. You didn’t apologize for putting everyone’s lives in danger. You didn’t even-“
She blinked, and looked away. The glasses went back on her face. “Yeah, well. I just wanted to say.” She picked up the radio. “Peak, this is Special Agents Brand and McCoy, ready to initiate docking procedures in about a minute. We-oww!”
“Is everything all right?” The man on the other end didn’t sound too concerned.
“Yeah, just a sec….” She put the radio down and batted Henry’s hand away from her head. “-The hell are you doing!”
“Hold still, I want to see where you collided with the control panel. Head trauma can sometimes make people act strangely.” He put his hands back on her head, parting her hair to better search her scalp.
“You think I said all that because I hit my head?!”
“It crossed my mind.”
Brand fumed. “You know, for a genius you’re pretty clueless. You can’t possibly think of any other reason why I might admit I was wrong, just to you? Not one?” By angling her face up at him, she was able to draw herself uncomfortably close. But she didn’t make her move. She just stared at him from behind her green lenses, waiting for him to either press forward or back off.
He did the latter. “I can’t check everything without the proper equipment anyway,” he mumbled, looking away and out the window.
Brand stared after him, a shade of disappointment surfacing from under the stoicism. “I’ll be sure to include that on the grand tour, then,” she sighed, and picked the radio back up. “Let’s dock.”
As they made their way deeper into the Peak, winding in a vaguely circular pattern to go from the ship bays on the outside to the command centers housed within, Henry felt distinctly uncomfortable. Everywhere they went, the people in uniform would pause to watch them pass. Or more specifically, to watch him pass. He hadn’t been so heavily scrutinized in a long time.
“You know,” he muttered, keeping his voice just low enough that no one but Brand would hear him, “for a station full of aliens, I’m sure getting a lot of stares.”
Brand looked around. Every time she caught the gaze of an onlooker, they seemed to come unstuck and went back to their work. “You’re new, and high-ranking for someone without previous experience here. Jealousy can be catching.”
“Hmm. They seem perfectly fine sizing me up, but I’ve noticed they don’t look at you at all.”
She pursed her mouth. “I’m old news.” Catching sight of a hairless gray man leaning over the bridge to get a better look at Henry, she said, “I’ll show you why no one wants to be caught not working by me.” Stalking over in the direction of the bridge, she shouted up at the man in an unrecognizable tongue, startling him. She and he snapped at each other, moving in and out between alien and English so that Henry could catch little snatches of phrase, but not enough to understand what was going on. By the time the conversation ended, though, Henry was sure they were swearing at each other. Brand sent the man on his way and turned back in the direction they had been heading, her face a shade pinker than it had been.
“What did that man say?” Either the man said something very offensive, or Brand was easier to piss off than he thought. He wasn’t sure which option he would rather have.
Brand shook her head. “Nothing important, just… nevermind. Don’t waste your time with people like him anyway.”
Henry frowned. “You bring me into this operation, you say we’re going to be working together, then you keep things from me. Is this how I should expect the rest of my time here to play out?”
“Can it at least wait until we’re not in front of half my crew to talk about it?” Her voice was strained.
Henry searched his mind to guess what could be bad or embarrassing enough that they should only talk about it in private. Either way, the lack of respect Brand’s crew had for her was appalling. She seemed to inspire that in people.
As they passed through yet another room dedicated to hundreds of monitors, a reddish alien resembling a lizard stood and blocked their way. “Ssspecial Agent Brand.” While he addressed her, his eyes were on Henry. Sizing him up.
“Special Agent Sydren,” she replied. To Henry, she said, “This is the one I told you about, says he’ll eat people’s heads.”
Sydren’s mouth opened in a gross approximation of a smile. “Only yoursss, Brand. Thisss is McCoy, I asssume? I didn’t realizsse he would be arriving ssso early in the week.”
Brand took a step forward, crossing her arms. Now she was a buffer between the two men. “You know the drill, Sydren. Takes a while for people to get acclimated to their surroundings, used to our policies. I figured a couple days would be all the professor needed. How long did it take you before you went on your first mission? About a month, right?” Henry tried to make a sorry expression at Sydren. This woman wasn’t winning him any friends.
Sydren scowled. “He mussst be exssceptionally competent.”
An eyebrow twitched from behind her glasses. “You trying to imply something?”
“Awfully paranoid of you, Brand, to asssume sssuch a thing. What could I posssibly mean?”
Brand took another step forward. She was good at getting in people’s personal space. “I hope for your sake I am just being paranoid. You gonna let us through now?”
Sydren moved to the side. “Of courssse.” He nodded his head in Henry’s direction. “Welcome to SSSWORD, Agent McCoy.”
Brand pointed to a door at the far end of the hall. “Your lodgings. Doesn’t need a key-it opens when you type the code into the keypad. Yours is 24601.” She stepped aside so Henry could try.
He tapped the digits in with one claw. “That’s Jon Valjean’s number in Les Miserables. Was that-“
She gave a little shrug as the door swung open. “I’m not a total philistine.” She stepped in, uninvited, to take a look around the dorm. It had all the charm of a hotel room. She peered in the room adjoining it. “Well, my bathroom’s a little bigger, but that looks like the only-“ Henry shut and locked the door behind them. Seeing his hand on the lock, the corners of her mouth turned upwards. “Change of heart? We could go to my room….”
Henry slapped one hand against the wall, then the other, trapping her. “Answers,” he growled. “You haven’t been straight with me all day, and there’s something going on between you and your crew. If you expect me to work with you, then-why the hell are you grinning like that!”
Brand let out an odd sound that Henry refused to believe was a laugh. “You’re completely right, you deserve answers. But I’m not going to be able to give them to you like this.”
“Why not?”
She did her best to stifle her smile. “Kind of hard to concentrate with you all up on me like this. Alone. The door locked-“
Henry released her and she sat on the bed. There were two chairs and a table she could have as easily sat at. He put a hand to his head-any more aggravation and he would get a migraine. “Please, just tell me that I came off as a little bit intimidating. I think I’m losing my edge.”
Brand composed herself, but there was still a note of playfulness in her voice. “Oh no, you were very scary. You could have eaten me up.” Henry groaned. “But where were we? Oh yeah, answers.” She pointed to the buearu across the room. “Open that. Top drawer on the right.”
Henry did as told, withdrawing two folders from the drawer. While they were both thick with papers, one was double the size of the other. He placed each on the little table, pointedly taking a seat in one of the chairs instead of next to her on the bed. “More dossiers?”
“Check the names on the tabs.”
Turning the folders upright, he recognized the names immediately. One read McCoy, Henry. The thicker one was Brand, Abigail. “Why…?”
“I wanted you to have the hard copy of your own file. Think of it as a show of good faith that I haven’t given it to anyone else. If you’re worried about privacy… here.” She tossed him a small cylindrical object, which he snatched out of midair. Opening his hand to inspect it more closely, he saw it was a lighter. “Burn it.”
Henry was sorely tempted. “Won’t someone notice it’s missing?”
“The records-keeping staff is more concerned with the files on our alien visitors, not the people who work here. I could replace it with a fake, they’d never notice. Like I said, the only person even allowed access to your file is me.”
Henry flipped through his folder. There were a lot of photos. Of him, of the X-Men… of Trish. He put it down, and covered it with the larger file. Out of sight, out of mind-he hoped. He was hesitant to open Brand’s file. “Thank you… I suppose… for the gesture. I’ll dispose of it. But why did you give me your file?”
“Fair’s fair-I looked at yours, you can look at mine. There’s several disc’s worth of grievances filed by my staff, might help you understand why they dislike me so much.”
Henry was doubtful-she was avoiding his question again. “Will I find why they don’t like me in here, too?”
Brand took off her glasses to polish them on the bottom of her shirt. “Favoritism.”
“And is it?”
She looked up from what she was doing. Even across the room, she emanated exhaustion. “You tell me. Do I treat you differently than I treat them?”
Henry put a hand to his chin. “Do they know of your… unique interest in me?”
Brand studied herself in the reflection of her glasses. “Sydren picked it up pretty quick. Thought it was hilarious. He’s got loose lips.”
“Great. So they think we’re….” He massaged his forehead. The migraine was coming on with a vengance.
“Actually, by now Sydren’s probably telling everyone how you keep shooting me down. He may not have been very welcoming, but I’m sure he’ll like you much more after that.”
“…Oh.”
“Which is what confuses me.” Brand got up and came over to the table, sitting in the chair across from him. “I’m trying to let you take your time, draw your own conclusions on this. But you seem so dead-set in believing that you’re some sort of undesirable monster, that no one could possibly like you for being exactly who you are.” She spread her arms. “But here I am, telling you how completely wrong you are! Do you think I’m delusional or something?”
Henry put his head in his hand. “No, but I wouldn’t trust your judgment either. You’ve made poor decisions before.”
Brand let out an angry huff of air through her nose. “If we’re going to work together, I need you to trust me. And you can start by trusting me on this. Do I really need to list all of the reasons I think you’re great?” She spread her hands, a shade of desperation coming into her voice. “Look, I know we don’t get along a hundred percent of the time. We can work on that. But think this through logically, Hank. I’m not perfect, but I could be there for you. You don’t have to love me, all I’m asking for is like.”
“I’d be taking advantage of you.”
“Great! So take advantage of me! I’m game!”
“Brand-“
She raised her eyebrows. Was she pleading with him? She couldn’t be. “At least call me Abigail.”
“Abigail… this isn’t going to work. I have a bad track record….”
“So do I!” She leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “At least look at it this way-haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to be with a woman and not have to worry about breaking her? You’ve only ever been with human women. But if you’re half the animal your X-Man name implies, wouldn’t you like to cut loose once in a while?”
Henry stood up, at the end of his patience. “I think it’s time for you to leave.” He picked her up by the shoulders, marching her towards the door.
She struggled in his grip to try and turn towards him. “Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”
“I never invited you in.” He opened the door. “I appreciate the effort and all, I really do. But it’s not you, it’s me.” He cringed. That was a line he swore he’d never use. Finally, they were separated by the doorway. He dropped his hands from her shoulders. Brand wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Good night, Abigail. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Won’t you be lonely?” Her voice was small. The shields went up around her again-whatever she was feeling, she was internalizing it.
“Yes, but I’ve made peace with that. You should consider doing the same.” He put his hand on the doorknob to close it.
Brand put her hand on the door to stop him. “One more thing.”
Henry sighed. “I’m really not in the mood to continue this argument into the night.”
She tilted her head as if she was looking up at him, but her eyes were cast to the side. “There’s something I meant to-it’s under your bed.”
“I’ll be sure to check on it first thing in the morning. Good night.” He closed the door in her face. It took a while before the sound of her footsteps disappeared down the hall and he could relax. Turning his back on the door, he surveyed the room once again. Yes, it was lonely. But he’d been lonely for a while now.
He picked his suitcase off the floor and opened it on the bed. He should have asked about getting an iron and ironing board. As he pawed through the few things he brought with him, his foot brushed something on the floor. Lifting up the bedsheet to get a better look at what lay underneath, he pulled a long cardboard box out. Was this what she was talking about? He opened one end to see flat black plastic, and knew immediately what it was. He slid the contents out of the box and onto the bed to get a better look.
It was a keyboard. Had she done this? Considering the reactions of the rest of the crew to his presence, it must have been her. He laid his hands across the keys, which were small for his fingers. The last time he played piano, he had ten fingers, not eight. He sat cross-legged on the bed and closed his eyes, letting the muscle memory take over as he picked out a soundless melody on the unplugged keyboard. He played into the night.
-------------------
Henry kept his eyes trained on the ghost of a moon hanging in the late afternoon sky. He and Brand had little to say to each other after their brief standoff as to how the check should be paid, but as they climbed into the uncomfortably cramped spacecraft cabin she commented that the Peak, S.W.O.R.D.’s space station, would be near aligned with the moon by the time they ascended. Brand had sunk back into her routine of unreadable stoicism, her reactions a mystery once more. Henry didn’t much care. If this was the so-called compatibility Brand once insisted was there between them, he had an unpleasant time ahead of him. He should have just stayed at the mansion.
He shifted in his seat. The craft was made to seat two, but with the addition of the suitcase in his footwell he had little room. The recycled air smelled like her-sweat and leather-but not enough to imply she had been using the ship for very long. Her personal craft, he decided, probably seats one. Bored with searching the skies for the glitter of the Peak, Henry let his gaze wander over the control panels. For the most part, it looked brand new, but a corner covered in blinking lights and buttons near Brand’s head was discolored. Henry put his hand out to touch it, making Brand duck under his elbow so she could still see the screens.
“You’d make a good door, but not a window,” she said, her tone flat. Autopilot had engaged minutes ago-she was playing the helmsman for show. Any reason to stay quiet, avoid his gaze.
“Is this rust?” He pulled his hand back and inspected the smudge of red-brown that came away. Rolling it between his fingers, it felt more liquid than solid.
“It’s blood.”
Henry raised an eyebrow. “Alien?”
“Mine. I told you, mild concussion.”
Henry would have expected her to bleed green. “You really should let me have a look at you when we get to a decent facility.”
Brand ventured a glimpse in his direction, or what Henry assumed was a glimpse from behind those cold glasses of hers. “I said I’ll be fine. It’ll smart for a while, but we have painkillers at home.” Her mouth tensed in a half-smile half-grimace. “I’m surprised for the concern, though. After what happened back there, I thought you’d be happy to see me suffer a little.”
“I’m a doctor.”
“I won’t take it personally, then.” What Henry wouldn’t give to be a psychic right now. She was playing games with him again, he was sure. Trying to appeal to his sympathy, manipulate him into forgiving her. He opened his mouth to reply, but she stopped him and pointed up. “See that bit of light, looks like a star?” He followed her gesture. A blue-white pinpoint was growing in the distance. “That’s the Peak. Now that we have visual confirmation, I gotta radio the guys, let ‘em know we’re here. No more time to chat.”
“Oh, and how I will miss the scintillating conversation we’ve enjoyed together,” he said drily.
“It could’ve been worse, I could’ve sent Sydren to pick you up. Our resident psychic’s more casually invasive than I could ever dream to be, and he takes about five minutes to spit out a single sentence. Threatens to eat people’s heads a lot.”
“The company you keep sounds as charming as yourself,” Henry sighed. There was nowhere to wipe his bloody fingers on, which meant it would dry and turn to little flakes in his fur. He forgot to pack a towel.
Brand turned to him fully. “Look, you can keep insulting me or you can listen to what I have to say, and I don’t think I’ll have time or the privacy to say it once we get to the Peak.” She ducked her head as she took off her glasses.
Henry held up his hands to stop her. “If you’re trying to make a pass at me, I’m really not in the-“
“Shut up already! I crossed a line, back in the bar. I recognize that now. I’m not very good with people, all right? So sometimes what comes out of my mouth sounds a lot worse than it did in my head.” Those eyes again, unblinking and ready to take anything he could dish out.
He lowered his hands, mouth hanging open slightly. “Am I hearing this correctly? Is Special Agent Brand apologizing to me? You didn’t apologize for kidnapping the X-Men. You didn’t apologize for putting everyone’s lives in danger. You didn’t even-“
She blinked, and looked away. The glasses went back on her face. “Yeah, well. I just wanted to say.” She picked up the radio. “Peak, this is Special Agents Brand and McCoy, ready to initiate docking procedures in about a minute. We-oww!”
“Is everything all right?” The man on the other end didn’t sound too concerned.
“Yeah, just a sec….” She put the radio down and batted Henry’s hand away from her head. “-The hell are you doing!”
“Hold still, I want to see where you collided with the control panel. Head trauma can sometimes make people act strangely.” He put his hands back on her head, parting her hair to better search her scalp.
“You think I said all that because I hit my head?!”
“It crossed my mind.”
Brand fumed. “You know, for a genius you’re pretty clueless. You can’t possibly think of any other reason why I might admit I was wrong, just to you? Not one?” By angling her face up at him, she was able to draw herself uncomfortably close. But she didn’t make her move. She just stared at him from behind her green lenses, waiting for him to either press forward or back off.
He did the latter. “I can’t check everything without the proper equipment anyway,” he mumbled, looking away and out the window.
Brand stared after him, a shade of disappointment surfacing from under the stoicism. “I’ll be sure to include that on the grand tour, then,” she sighed, and picked the radio back up. “Let’s dock.”
As they made their way deeper into the Peak, winding in a vaguely circular pattern to go from the ship bays on the outside to the command centers housed within, Henry felt distinctly uncomfortable. Everywhere they went, the people in uniform would pause to watch them pass. Or more specifically, to watch him pass. He hadn’t been so heavily scrutinized in a long time.
“You know,” he muttered, keeping his voice just low enough that no one but Brand would hear him, “for a station full of aliens, I’m sure getting a lot of stares.”
Brand looked around. Every time she caught the gaze of an onlooker, they seemed to come unstuck and went back to their work. “You’re new, and high-ranking for someone without previous experience here. Jealousy can be catching.”
“Hmm. They seem perfectly fine sizing me up, but I’ve noticed they don’t look at you at all.”
She pursed her mouth. “I’m old news.” Catching sight of a hairless gray man leaning over the bridge to get a better look at Henry, she said, “I’ll show you why no one wants to be caught not working by me.” Stalking over in the direction of the bridge, she shouted up at the man in an unrecognizable tongue, startling him. She and he snapped at each other, moving in and out between alien and English so that Henry could catch little snatches of phrase, but not enough to understand what was going on. By the time the conversation ended, though, Henry was sure they were swearing at each other. Brand sent the man on his way and turned back in the direction they had been heading, her face a shade pinker than it had been.
“What did that man say?” Either the man said something very offensive, or Brand was easier to piss off than he thought. He wasn’t sure which option he would rather have.
Brand shook her head. “Nothing important, just… nevermind. Don’t waste your time with people like him anyway.”
Henry frowned. “You bring me into this operation, you say we’re going to be working together, then you keep things from me. Is this how I should expect the rest of my time here to play out?”
“Can it at least wait until we’re not in front of half my crew to talk about it?” Her voice was strained.
Henry searched his mind to guess what could be bad or embarrassing enough that they should only talk about it in private. Either way, the lack of respect Brand’s crew had for her was appalling. She seemed to inspire that in people.
As they passed through yet another room dedicated to hundreds of monitors, a reddish alien resembling a lizard stood and blocked their way. “Ssspecial Agent Brand.” While he addressed her, his eyes were on Henry. Sizing him up.
“Special Agent Sydren,” she replied. To Henry, she said, “This is the one I told you about, says he’ll eat people’s heads.”
Sydren’s mouth opened in a gross approximation of a smile. “Only yoursss, Brand. Thisss is McCoy, I asssume? I didn’t realizsse he would be arriving ssso early in the week.”
Brand took a step forward, crossing her arms. Now she was a buffer between the two men. “You know the drill, Sydren. Takes a while for people to get acclimated to their surroundings, used to our policies. I figured a couple days would be all the professor needed. How long did it take you before you went on your first mission? About a month, right?” Henry tried to make a sorry expression at Sydren. This woman wasn’t winning him any friends.
Sydren scowled. “He mussst be exssceptionally competent.”
An eyebrow twitched from behind her glasses. “You trying to imply something?”
“Awfully paranoid of you, Brand, to asssume sssuch a thing. What could I posssibly mean?”
Brand took another step forward. She was good at getting in people’s personal space. “I hope for your sake I am just being paranoid. You gonna let us through now?”
Sydren moved to the side. “Of courssse.” He nodded his head in Henry’s direction. “Welcome to SSSWORD, Agent McCoy.”
Brand pointed to a door at the far end of the hall. “Your lodgings. Doesn’t need a key-it opens when you type the code into the keypad. Yours is 24601.” She stepped aside so Henry could try.
He tapped the digits in with one claw. “That’s Jon Valjean’s number in Les Miserables. Was that-“
She gave a little shrug as the door swung open. “I’m not a total philistine.” She stepped in, uninvited, to take a look around the dorm. It had all the charm of a hotel room. She peered in the room adjoining it. “Well, my bathroom’s a little bigger, but that looks like the only-“ Henry shut and locked the door behind them. Seeing his hand on the lock, the corners of her mouth turned upwards. “Change of heart? We could go to my room….”
Henry slapped one hand against the wall, then the other, trapping her. “Answers,” he growled. “You haven’t been straight with me all day, and there’s something going on between you and your crew. If you expect me to work with you, then-why the hell are you grinning like that!”
Brand let out an odd sound that Henry refused to believe was a laugh. “You’re completely right, you deserve answers. But I’m not going to be able to give them to you like this.”
“Why not?”
She did her best to stifle her smile. “Kind of hard to concentrate with you all up on me like this. Alone. The door locked-“
Henry released her and she sat on the bed. There were two chairs and a table she could have as easily sat at. He put a hand to his head-any more aggravation and he would get a migraine. “Please, just tell me that I came off as a little bit intimidating. I think I’m losing my edge.”
Brand composed herself, but there was still a note of playfulness in her voice. “Oh no, you were very scary. You could have eaten me up.” Henry groaned. “But where were we? Oh yeah, answers.” She pointed to the buearu across the room. “Open that. Top drawer on the right.”
Henry did as told, withdrawing two folders from the drawer. While they were both thick with papers, one was double the size of the other. He placed each on the little table, pointedly taking a seat in one of the chairs instead of next to her on the bed. “More dossiers?”
“Check the names on the tabs.”
Turning the folders upright, he recognized the names immediately. One read McCoy, Henry. The thicker one was Brand, Abigail. “Why…?”
“I wanted you to have the hard copy of your own file. Think of it as a show of good faith that I haven’t given it to anyone else. If you’re worried about privacy… here.” She tossed him a small cylindrical object, which he snatched out of midair. Opening his hand to inspect it more closely, he saw it was a lighter. “Burn it.”
Henry was sorely tempted. “Won’t someone notice it’s missing?”
“The records-keeping staff is more concerned with the files on our alien visitors, not the people who work here. I could replace it with a fake, they’d never notice. Like I said, the only person even allowed access to your file is me.”
Henry flipped through his folder. There were a lot of photos. Of him, of the X-Men… of Trish. He put it down, and covered it with the larger file. Out of sight, out of mind-he hoped. He was hesitant to open Brand’s file. “Thank you… I suppose… for the gesture. I’ll dispose of it. But why did you give me your file?”
“Fair’s fair-I looked at yours, you can look at mine. There’s several disc’s worth of grievances filed by my staff, might help you understand why they dislike me so much.”
Henry was doubtful-she was avoiding his question again. “Will I find why they don’t like me in here, too?”
Brand took off her glasses to polish them on the bottom of her shirt. “Favoritism.”
“And is it?”
She looked up from what she was doing. Even across the room, she emanated exhaustion. “You tell me. Do I treat you differently than I treat them?”
Henry put a hand to his chin. “Do they know of your… unique interest in me?”
Brand studied herself in the reflection of her glasses. “Sydren picked it up pretty quick. Thought it was hilarious. He’s got loose lips.”
“Great. So they think we’re….” He massaged his forehead. The migraine was coming on with a vengance.
“Actually, by now Sydren’s probably telling everyone how you keep shooting me down. He may not have been very welcoming, but I’m sure he’ll like you much more after that.”
“…Oh.”
“Which is what confuses me.” Brand got up and came over to the table, sitting in the chair across from him. “I’m trying to let you take your time, draw your own conclusions on this. But you seem so dead-set in believing that you’re some sort of undesirable monster, that no one could possibly like you for being exactly who you are.” She spread her arms. “But here I am, telling you how completely wrong you are! Do you think I’m delusional or something?”
Henry put his head in his hand. “No, but I wouldn’t trust your judgment either. You’ve made poor decisions before.”
Brand let out an angry huff of air through her nose. “If we’re going to work together, I need you to trust me. And you can start by trusting me on this. Do I really need to list all of the reasons I think you’re great?” She spread her hands, a shade of desperation coming into her voice. “Look, I know we don’t get along a hundred percent of the time. We can work on that. But think this through logically, Hank. I’m not perfect, but I could be there for you. You don’t have to love me, all I’m asking for is like.”
“I’d be taking advantage of you.”
“Great! So take advantage of me! I’m game!”
“Brand-“
She raised her eyebrows. Was she pleading with him? She couldn’t be. “At least call me Abigail.”
“Abigail… this isn’t going to work. I have a bad track record….”
“So do I!” She leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “At least look at it this way-haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to be with a woman and not have to worry about breaking her? You’ve only ever been with human women. But if you’re half the animal your X-Man name implies, wouldn’t you like to cut loose once in a while?”
Henry stood up, at the end of his patience. “I think it’s time for you to leave.” He picked her up by the shoulders, marching her towards the door.
She struggled in his grip to try and turn towards him. “Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”
“I never invited you in.” He opened the door. “I appreciate the effort and all, I really do. But it’s not you, it’s me.” He cringed. That was a line he swore he’d never use. Finally, they were separated by the doorway. He dropped his hands from her shoulders. Brand wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Good night, Abigail. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Won’t you be lonely?” Her voice was small. The shields went up around her again-whatever she was feeling, she was internalizing it.
“Yes, but I’ve made peace with that. You should consider doing the same.” He put his hand on the doorknob to close it.
Brand put her hand on the door to stop him. “One more thing.”
Henry sighed. “I’m really not in the mood to continue this argument into the night.”
She tilted her head as if she was looking up at him, but her eyes were cast to the side. “There’s something I meant to-it’s under your bed.”
“I’ll be sure to check on it first thing in the morning. Good night.” He closed the door in her face. It took a while before the sound of her footsteps disappeared down the hall and he could relax. Turning his back on the door, he surveyed the room once again. Yes, it was lonely. But he’d been lonely for a while now.
He picked his suitcase off the floor and opened it on the bed. He should have asked about getting an iron and ironing board. As he pawed through the few things he brought with him, his foot brushed something on the floor. Lifting up the bedsheet to get a better look at what lay underneath, he pulled a long cardboard box out. Was this what she was talking about? He opened one end to see flat black plastic, and knew immediately what it was. He slid the contents out of the box and onto the bed to get a better look.
It was a keyboard. Had she done this? Considering the reactions of the rest of the crew to his presence, it must have been her. He laid his hands across the keys, which were small for his fingers. The last time he played piano, he had ten fingers, not eight. He sat cross-legged on the bed and closed his eyes, letting the muscle memory take over as he picked out a soundless melody on the unplugged keyboard. He played into the night.