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English
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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
Completed:
2009-10-07
Words:
8,032
Chapters:
2/2
Kudos:
13
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2,130

Change of Hearts

Summary:

Extract/Summary - Dr. Henry McCoy finds companionship can be found in even the most unexpected of places.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1 - Reconciliation

Notes:

At this point, bprdagent has cited extreme amounts of schoolwork and deferred all of the actual writing to me.  He still advises, however, and his largest contributions are in the character development of Victor.
Be forewarned, chapter 2 is massive.
Enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcome, as well as the ousting of errors.
Characters are copyright of Marvel. Neither I nor BPRD claim ownership, nor do we intend to infringe upon any copyrights.
Note - artists are welcome to take and draw/create scenes from the works, but I would prefer that they contact me before using them.

Chapter Text

Change of Hearts – Chapter One

The scene could best be described as a symphony. A plethora of flasks steamed away in pulchritudinous harmony, each emitting its own scents and colors. A centrifuge added the melody with its whirring song. Several titrations dripped dutifully away, working industriously towards the expected color change. An intricate clock near the door kept time, acting as percussion to the impromptu concert in the laboratory, determined to keep everyone in cadence. If these devices were the musicians of the concert, then the gargantuan figure of cerulean fur and muscles garbed in a lab coat was surely the conductor. He deftly maneuvered about the lab, storing flasks, mixing new solutions, shaking titrations, and fine-tuning the steaming flasks, never missing a beat. He was the master of the scientific domain, a living contradiction, the paradoxical and brilliant Dr. Henry McCoy.

Hank hummed contently as he massed out the requisite magnesium, peering at the scale through his distinctive circular spectacles. He carefully swept the metal into his massive yet gentle paw and carried over to the lab bench. Taking a piece of the material in his tongs, he held it in the blue flame of a nearby Bunsen burner and watched it ignite, giving off a brilliant hoary glow. Excellent, the azure giant concluded. This will be a big hit for Monday’s chemistry lesson with the X-kids. As Dr. McCoy packed the rest of the magnesium to his storage cabinet, he paused at his centrifuge. Its spinning tune was almost hypnotic. Henry watched its progress, temporarily enthralled. The centrifuge span still faster, like a rampaging tempest. Its violence became alarming, and suddenly Beast was recalling the terrifying images of that morning’s mission which had admitted yet another person into the commodious halls of the X-mansion. The mission had been a complete success; innocents were protected, and property damage was kept minimal. A rare blessing with this impulsive team, Hank mused within his memory. It had turned out the target they were assigned to protect had been capable of defending herself; the enemy was defeated without a single twister from Storm or ace of spades from Gambit, to both of their great distress. As suddenly as the memory had cropped up, the titration adjacent to the centrifuge morphed from its former magenta to a pleasing navy, and Beast quickly shut off the drip. He glanced to his treasured grandfather clock, vaguely aware that he needed to watch the time.

“7:25?! My stars and garters! The appointment is for 7: 30!” Hank blurted. With the lithe grace he had been demonstrating, Beast made the rounds, turning off his Bunsen burners, storing extra supplies, and switching off his titration drips. The conductor had called a fermata in the concerto before the intermission; the centrifuge furiously finished its work and its tune as Dr. McCoy tended to the other lab devices. Beast cleared his couch, reverently stacking several poetry anthologies with their scientific counterparts. Quickly whipping a paper exam table cover out of his massive storage closet, Beast draped the table and then again braved the abyssal closet to fish for his diagnostic equipment. Beast emerged soon thereafter slightly ruffled, but triumphantly carrying his gear. Placing his otoscope, tongue depressor, stethoscope, thermometer, and other effects on his instrument cart, Hank moved to collect his notepad and Rorschach cards, as well as his favorite mauve pen. Hank seated himself upon his favorite navy wheeled chair, gave it a gleeful spin of greeting, and stopped to stare at the clock and the doorway, eagerly anticipating his patient.

Hank’s alert reverie was to be short-lived. His patient arrived punctually. The large figure entered with a snarling sigh. Beast opened a drawer at the foot of the exam table and rifled through it, finally crying out triumphantly. He tossed a gaudy pink hospital gown on the exam table. This choice was meant with a disgusted snort.

“I ain’t puttin’ that sissy dress on,” the patient protested. Beast fixed his subject with a slight disapproving glance from behind his glasses. The patient took a deep breath, then finally rumbled “Alright, but do you have anything in yellow?” Beast replaced the pink gown and began excavating. A new robe was produced, this one a soft blue with yellow spots. The patient regarded it with slight disdain, but accepted it when Hank pressed it into his arms. Looking around, the patient seemed to sulk. “McCoy, I need someplace to-” Hank pointed to his voluminous storage closet. The patient ambled over, albeit reluctantly, and emerged a minute later, clad in the gown. “I’m gonna regret this, ain’t I, McCoy?” the patient inquired.

“Good sir, I assure you, a more professional doctor cannot be found,” came Beast’s rejoinder. The patient climbed onto the examination table, his significant bulk causing creaks. Hank wasted no time, sliding his instrument cart and his prized chair to the table. “Say aaah…” he prompted.

“Aaah de freakin’ daaaah,” retorted the patient. Beast could not help but crack a smile. He removed his tongue depressor and unceremoniously jammed his thermometer into his patient’s maw. Hank began muttering observations.

“Throat is in typical healthy color range, no signs of –” The patient chose that moment to register his displeasure at the sudden introduction of the thermometer.

“Oi, what’s all this? Professional my a-”

“Good sir, I urge you to consider where else I could have chosen to place that thermometer and BE QUIET,” Beast scolded.
The patient silenced himself and made no motions or sounds as Beast took his pulse and blood pressure and examined his pupil dilation. However, as the otoscope was slid into his right ear, he cracked a rare smile of his own.

“What is it?” Dr. McCoy probed.

“Feels nice, kinda soothing…” the patient rumbled in reply.
Hank could not help but reciprocate the grin as he moved to the other ear.

“All looks to be in superb shape so far, good sir,” Hank began “but there are a few points left to examine, and unfortunately, they are by far the least pleasant.” Dr. McCoy punctuated his statement by donning gloves. “The next area on the list is the genitalia.”

The patient’s eyes widened in confusion until Beast assisted him by indicating the region in question. The patient sighed in a resigned manner. “Don’t enjoy this too much, McCoy,” he cautioned. He slowly slid his gown up to his navel. Hank was true to his word, and quickly went to work examining the area. The patient averted his eyes as he held his gown up so Beast could work. Beast was a true professional; the patient’s sizable endowment caused him no pause.

“Cough, please,” he instructed.

The patient cooperated, eager to restore his modesty. The cough was more a hack, perhaps the patient expressing his opinion of the procedure. Beast helped him slide his gown back into place when he finished.

“Only one thing left: prostate exam,” Dr. McCoy informed, unflustered.

The patient’s countenance again moved to consternation as Beast helped him to his feet.

“The wha?” he asked, confused. Beast clued him in by spinning his pointer finger, indicating the patient should turn around. “Oh!” the patient cried, understanding. “About that… can we wait? I ain’t ready fer that,” he muttered, embarrassed.

“I assure you the procedure completely routine and will be conducted with absolute discrimination,” Hank reassured, “but if your wish is to wait, I am at peace with your decision.”

Relief washed across the patient’s features as he did two unexpected things. He snatched Beast’s hand in a manner almost that of a kleptomaniac and he said something he was never recorded as having said before.

“Thank you,” he managed to squeeze out in a low growl.

“It wasn’t so bad, wasn’t it, Mr. Creed?” Beast teased.

“It ain’t you;” Victor began, “the last time ‘docs’ were fiddlin’ with me, it didn’t turn out so well.”

Hank, a master of composure, was still taken aback by Victor’s candid confession. However, he recovered quickly and led Victor to the couch.

“Awww crud,” complained Sabretooth, “this ain’t gonna be one of those ‘my childhood was terrible and mummy didn’t love me enough’ things, is it?”

“No, I’d conclude that you’re not prepared to share such information. This session is purely preliminary,” Beast explained as he picked up his notepad, beloved pen, and Rorschach cards.

“I need you to answer honestly and know I cannot share anything said with anyone at any time,” Hank dutifully informed. “Are you experiencing ANY psychological symptoms, such as depression or extreme anger?”

Victor paused thoughtfully, and then replied. “No. Fer once, I don’t feel angry. I ain’t in the mood ta kill nuthin’. I know it’s hard ta swallow…”

Beast chewed thoughtfully on his worn pen. “Not at all, Victor. We expected changes. This is excellent news.” Hank began scribbling away on his notepad, muttering things such as “favorable report” and “more progress than hoped.” Once Hank finished his frenzied notation, he picked up his stack of ink-blot cards and showed the first to Victor. “Tell me what you see, please,” he commanded.

“I see a pretty freakin’ butterfly!”
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Victor emerged from the storage closet, back in his clothes, aglow with confidence and what could tentatively be described as joy. Hank met him by the doorway. Victor extended his hand, which Hank readily accepted.

“Ya don’t know what yer kindness means,” Victor stated, feeling a little awkward. He had not formerly been known for grandiose or gracious speeches. “Everyone else just stares at me and I feel so alone… Had they been my doctor, they would have gone out of their way to humiliate me.”

Beast managed to peel his paw out of Victor’s fierce hold. “Sleep well… friend,” he intoned, smiling.

Beast watched Victor saunter off to his room, and in spite of years of enmity and the knowledge that he should loathe the man, Beast found himself looking forward to seeing him again and already missing his company. However, Hank, imbued with great brilliance, was already formulating a plan. A mischievous smile sprang unbidden to his soft, fuzzy face as he schemed.