Disclaimer: They're Marvel's, who doesn't
_deserve_ them.
I have no permission. I make no money.
Warning: There's a _lot_ of swearing, and no happy
bunnies. Angst alert.
Notes: Any typos are deliberate. Any apparent plot holes
are illusory. Arguably I could've gone into more detail
concerning certain things, but the story just didn't want
me to. Don't lose any sleep over it unless you're going
to write it down afterwards.
Dedication: To Jaya Mitai. Because. ;-)
Title taken from the fundamental law of medicine: Primum
non nocere, or,
FIRST, DO NO HARM.
Subj: Hank, you're an idiot.
Date: 03/31/99 03:13:48 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Hank,
I _know_ you're reading your email. You _always_ read
your email. Civilisation as we know it could end, we
could all be living in the sewers, surviving on rats and
flourescent mould, and you'd still be poking around the
wreckage looking for bits of metal, to built a computer
from scratch, so that you could read your email.
So come home okay? We miss you. I miss you. I can't
believe you just took off like that. And I can't believe
some _more_ that you haven't come back yet. it's been
nearly three weeks, aren't you done yet? It's going to be
okay, okay? _I'm_ going to be okay. There's a whole lot
of okay goin' on. So stop wallowing in guilt already, and
come home.
Bobby.
Subj: You're still an idiot, and getting dumber every day.
Date: 4/3/99 21:15:04 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Hank,
This is stupid. _You_ are being stupid, and it's really
not a good look for you. It clashes with the whole genius
thing. There's no reason for you to run off like that.
No-one blames you. It wasn't your fault, Hank. Will you
please just come back?
Bobby.
Subj: Dumb & dumber
Date: 4/5/99 11:19:54 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Dear Idiot,
God damn it. How many times do I have to say it? It was
an accident. It was a mistake. _IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT_. I
fucking _forgive you_, if that makes you feel better,
even though there's nothing to forgive. Shit happens.
We'll cope. Just come the hell home.
Bobby.
Subj: How dumb _are_ you??!
Date: 4/8/99 23:45:12 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Moron,
You're really starting to piss me off now, you know that?
Where the fuck are you, anyway? I know you're not on
Muir, I checked. Not staying with the Avengers, not
hanging with whatshisname, that weird doctor friend of
yours. Alan? Alex? Ivan? Anyway, not there. You fucked up
Cerebro but good before you left, and the prof can't find
you either. I got Remy to trace your credit cards, but
you're not using them. What are you living on?
You know, I'm really starting to get worried. Do you
_want_ me to worry? I'm told it won't help my health. Not
that you'd know anything about that, what with your not
being _here_, and all. And no, I have no qualms
whatsoever about using emotional blackmail. Whatever
works, right?
So, is it working?
Bobby.
Subj: Damn it,
Date: 4/10/99 00:32:31 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
you could at least call.
Subj: (no subject)
Date: 4/10/99 00:34:02 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Or send a fucking postcard.
Subj: Consider me surprised...
Date: 4/10/99 00:47:27 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Y'know,
I really had no idea you were this good at self-
flagellation. I can only assume that you've never fucked
up before, and that's why you're taking it so hard now.
Welcome to the human race, blue. How are you liking it so
far?
Bobby.
P.S. You'll _have_ to come back now. You know you will. I
just used the word self-flagellation in a real live
sentence, and spelled it right too. You must now come
home and check for pods.
P.P.S. Okay, I admit, I had to use the spell checker.
Subj: Pods
Date: 4/10/99 13:51:29 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Hank,
Speaking of pod people, today Bishop told a dirty joke.
If you come home, I promise never to tell it to you.
Bobby.
Subj: Okay, you asked for it,
Date: 4/12/99 20:37:55 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
here's Bishop's joke:
`Two guys went to a fancy dress party (are you scared yet
Hank? Are you?)
The first guy came completely naked, with his penis in a
bowl of custard. The second guy came in, went over to a
potplant in a corner of the room, and peed in it.
The hostess was a little annoyed.
She said, "Look, what's all this about? This is a fancy
dress party, not a student orgy. I asked you to come as
an emotion or a feeling."
The second guy said, "We did. I came as pissed off, and
he's fucking dis-custard."'
I told you you'd regret not coming home.
Bobby.
Subj: Bishop's joke,
Date: 4/13/99 01:56:01 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Fine, okay, so _I_ taught him the joke and he only told
it cos he lost a bet. And he fluffed the punchline. But
he still told it. Damn it, if only I'd thought ahead a
little, I could've gotten it on tape. I never woulda made
a good Girl Guide...
Bobby.
Subj: ET, come home.
Date: 4/15/99 23:56:01 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Hank,
come home, come home, come home, come home, come home,
come home, come home, come home, come home, come home,
come home, come home, come home, come home, come home,
come home, come home, come home, come home, come home,
come home, come home, come home, come home, come home,
come home, come home, come home, come home, come home,
come home, come home, come home, come home, YOU STUPID
BIG BLUE *JERK*!!!
Bobby.
Subj: Your postcard
Date: 4/17/99 10:11:48 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Hank,
Ha, I _knew_ you were reading your email. Got your
postcard today. Very informative. Very... blank.
Is that supposed to be some kind of ironic comment?
If Logan hadn't sent the ol' snifter to work, we wouldn't
even have known it came from you.
Frankly, I was hoping for a bit ... _more_ in the way of
communication. Not that I'm not _grateful_ for the blank
postcard. I mean, I'll treasure it, really. But I was
actually kinda hoping for something more along the lines
of an address, and "wish you were here".
Or maybe "out to lunch, back in two weeks."
Bobby.
Subj: Are you even there?
Date: 4/23/99 21:08:06 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Or am I just talking to myself?
Subj: Re: Are you even there?
Date: 4/23/99 22:45:32 EST
From: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
To: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
> Or am I just talking to myself? <
No. I'm here.
Subj: Re: Are you even there?
Date: 4/24/99 13:51:13 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Hank,
Good to _finally_ hear from you, but :
> No. I'm here. <
That's the point. You're _there_, wherever the hell
`there' is. You should be _here_. As in home. So drop a
quarter, the guys will pick you up in the `bird, and
you'll be home by tonight. Start packing.
Bobby.
Subj: I know where you ar-re...
Date: 4/25/99 20:14:49 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Hank,
The guys finally got around to mentioning that they
_knew_ where you were, and had been to see you, and just
decided _not_ to mention it to me. In case I got _upset_.
Oh no, we mustn't upset poor lil Bobby, must we... Well
fuck you all. I know now, and if you don't come home,
then I'll steal the fucking `bird and come drag you back
myself. You know I can do it.
Bobby.
Subj: (no subject)
Date: 4/26/99 9:37:12 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Bastard,
You son of a bitch! I can't believe you told them to put
a fucking collar on me! You FUCK! Fucking FUCK YOU, Hank.
You ran out on me _DOCTOR_ McCoy, you don't have any
right to inquire about my fucking health, or worry about
it, or to tell them to keep me here, or anything! A
fucking _collar_???! What am I, your dog?
Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU!
Drake.
Subj: Re: (no subject)
Date: 4/26/99 14:23:58 EST
From: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
To: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
Bobby,
> You son of a bitch! I can't believe you told them to
> put a fucking collar on me! You FUCK! Fucking FUCK YOU,
> Hank. You ran out on me _DOCTOR_ McCoy, you don't have
> any right to inquire about my fucking health, or worry
> about it, or to tell them to keep me here, or anything!
> A fucking _collar_???! What am I, your _dog_? Fuck you,
> fuck you, _FUCK_ YOU!
You're upset about the collar, aren't you. I can tell.
Hank.
Subj: Re: (no subject)
Date: 4/27/99 23:16:01 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
> You're upset about the collar, aren't you. I can tell.
So, finally got your sense of humor back, huh? That's
good. But don't think I'm not still majorly pissed about
this.
Bobby.
Subj: Re: (no subject)
Date: 4/28/99 04:34:21 EST
From: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
To: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
Bobby,
>> You're upset about this, aren't you. I can tell.
> So, finally got your sense of humor back, huh?
No.
> That's good. But don't think I'm not still majorly
> pissed about this.
I knew you wouldn't appreciate it, obviously. But it is
necessary Robert. I'm sorry.
Hank.
Subj: Re: (no subject)
Date: 4/28/99 19:09:27 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Hank,
> I knew you wouldn't appreciate it, obviously. But it is
> necessary Robert. I'm sorry.
To be perfectly blunt here Blue, I'm sick to death of
your `sorry' (no pun intended). You don't have to be
sorry. There's nothing to be sorry _for_. You just need
to come back.
Losing the collar would be nice too, but I know it's
necessary, I'm not a complete idiot. I don't want to take
everyone in the mansion with me. Or anyone, even.
Bobby.
Subj: Re: (no subject)
Date: 4/28/99 19:23:12 EST
From: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
To: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
> Losing the collar would be nice too, but I know it's
> necessary, I'm not a
> complete idiot. I don't want to take everyone in the
> mansion with me. Or
> anyone, even.
Don't. Please, don't Bobby, just - don't.
Subj: There's nothing wrong with avoidance a little denial can't fix.
Date: 4/28/99 19:39:54 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Hank,
> Don't. Please, don't Bobby, just - don't.
Don't what? Talk about dying? Sorry Blue, but you're
gonna have to deal with it sooner or later, and avoidance
and denial is really more my thing than yours. So let's
just lay it all out here, okay? I'm dying. You know it, I
know it, the `family' might want to pretend ev-ry-thing's
gon-na be o-kay, cha-cha-cha, but I think you and I need
to stop dancing around it. I know you can cure Legacy,
and you know it won't be in time. And that sucks, okay,
that really does suck, but it's okay. I'm doing okay.
Look, I know you're online, can we take this to a chat
room or something? Here's the _link_.
Bobby.
***
*welcome to private chatroom 125. blueguy and coolguy in
residence.*
Coolguy: Hey Blue. Glad you could make it. How you doing?
Blueguy: Fine.
Blueguy: How are you?
Coolguy: Hang on...
*coolguy will now be known as drake:*
Drake: Just so we don't get confused... ;->. I'm doing
fine. As I'm sure you already know, given the weekly
updates you've been getting from Cece.
Drake: Should I ask about the research, or are we not
talking about that either?
Blueguy: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go behind your back.
The research is progressing. We'll find a cure.
Drake: I know you will. And I don't care about the
updates, I just wish you'd get them from _me_. Or get
them yourself. By being here.
Drake: So. Why don't we leap right in and discuss why
you're avoiding us? And in particular, moi?
Drake: Hank?
Drake: Ignoring me now too?
Drake: For fuck's sake Hank. It was an _accident_.
Blueguy: No it _wasn't_.
Blueguy: Is that what they told you? It was deliberate
Bobby, I deliberately infected you with the Legacy Virus.
Drake: :::shrugs::: Fine, you don't like accident,
`mistake' then. Fuck up. Oopsie.
Drake: And of-course they told me what happened. And
Jesus, it wasn't like you shot me up with undiluted death
or something Blue, stop being so fucking melodramatic. It
was supposed to be a vaccine for fuck's sake, you weren't
trying to _hurt_ me. You were trying to save my life.
Blueguy: Oopsie? Robert... If we don't find a cure in
time, I've as good as killed you.
Drake: So who wants to live forever?
Drake: Hank?
Drake: Hank? Yoohoo, c'mon, talk to me big guy.
*blueguy has left the chatroom*
Drake: Shit.
Subj: Here we go again.
Date: 4/28/99 20:05:31 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Hank,
Well, _that_ was a big success. Fine, I get the picture.
I won't mention the thing-which-is-not-to-be-mentioned
again. I hope you realise though, no-one else is letting
me mention it either. It's all happy-happy-joy-joy round
here. I'm practically choking on the optimism. And I
thought _I_ was good at denial. Sheesh.
Look, would you at least come back to the goddamn chat
room? Would you please just do this for me, okay? We can
talk about something else, all right? We can just _talk_.
Can't we even do that anymore?
Bobby.
*welcome to private chatroom 125. blueguy and drake in
residence.*
Drake: Thanks Hank.
Drake: I mean, y'know, for coming back.
Drake: Okay. So, whaddaya wanna talk about?
Drake: Somehow I don't imagine you've been doing much
dating... Which is a good thing, actually, cos I still
think you and Reyes would be good for each other, now
that Trish is history ;-).
Drake: Oops. That was tactless. I didn't mean it like
that. I mean I didn't mean, with the smiley, that I was
glad you and Trish broke up. Just that, y'know... Cece
would be good for you. Um.
Drake: :::carefully removes foot from mouth.:::
Drake: Um, Hank?
Drake: Feel free to join in the conversation any time.
Drake: :::twiddles thumbs:::
Blueguy: Sorry.
Drake: I _know_.
Blueguy: I have to go.
Drake: Don't. You. Fucking. _Dare_.
Drake: Hank??!
Blueguy: I'm still here.
Blueguy: Robert, what do you want me to _say_?
Drake: Anything but `Sorry'.
Drake: Jesus, well at least I finally know how to shut
you up...
Blueguy: You're driving everyone there crazy, aren't you.
Drake: Is that you making an over-educated guess, Dr
McCoy? Yeah, I'm doin' my best. Got my favourite partner
in crime helping me out.
Blueguy: Invisible Wayne?
Drake: Oh yeah, ha, ha. I'm laughing on the inside Hank,
really I am.
Jubilee. She's visiting. I wanted to ask you
Blueguy: Ask me...? Yes?
Drake: Sorry. meant to delete, not send. Doesn't matter.
Blueguy: Tell me anyway.
Drake: But it's not-to-be-mentioned.
Drake: Hank?
Blueguy: Tell me anyway Bobby.
Drake: Oookay. Fine.
You think I should send her back to school, or let her
stay?
Drake: I mean, she said she wants to stay, and maybe
Logan would be more help than her friends, but - I just
dunno. She was pretty fucked up when Illyana died. I
don't think she should be here.
Drake: Emma doesn't either.
Drake: I knew I shouldn't have told you.
Blueguy: Send her back to school.
Drake: That's what I thought. Okay. I will then. Thanks.
Pretty soon, probably.
Drake: Are you going to be here?
Drake: Right, never mind, forget I asked, abrupt change
of subject.
Drake: Here's one: I'm going bungi-jumping on the
weekend.
Blueguy: I hope that's a joke.
Drake: No. Why? I've never been, I always wanted to try
it. I mean, sure, I've done plenty of stupider things,
but I've never done this particular stupid thing, and I
figure I should try `em all. Collect the set. You know
how obsessive I am about my hobbies. Besides, I kinda
miss the constant adreneline rush, now that I'm not going
on missions. Is there such a thing as action-withdrawal?
Blueguy: You can't go bungi-jumping Bobby. Don't be
ridiculous.
Drake: Don't be a _dick_ Blue. I can if I want to. And I
wanna, so I'm gonna ;-P. I'm going to tie a stretchy rope
around my feet, and jump off a damn high building, and
bounce. It'll be fun. Vomit inducing, possibly, but fun.
Don't you think?
Blueguy: No, I don't think. I don't think you're in any
condition to be doing anything of the sort.
Drake: And whos fault is that?
Drake: Ah, _shit_.
God Hank, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm so full of shit,
you know I am. I didn't _mean_ it, you just make me so
mad, acting like you're supposed to be fucking Jesus or
somwethign, get everything right all the time. And I just
- I need someone to talk to, and it should be you, it's
always you, but you're not here, and I can't even tell
you I'm scared, because you'll just start feeling _more_
guilty, and I don't _want_ your guilt. I don't _blame_
you. Not for a second, not for _that_ - but yeah,
actually, y'know for this, this _not being here_ crap, I
_do_ blame you. And I am angry, and I want to hit you, or
maybe just _somebody_ , and seeng as were in a chat room,
the best I can do is be really mean, and I'm sorry.
*blueguy has left the chatroom*
Drake: zxc m,.\\
*drake has left the chatroom*
Subj: And back to square one...
Date: 4/28/99 20:37:51 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Hank,
You couldn't even wait around for my apology? Jesus,
blue. This duck and run thing of yours is gettting real
old, real fast. If you'd just stuck around thirty more
seconds, you woulda seen me grovel. Cos you know, I _am_
angry at you, and I _did_ say it to hurt you, but not
because of the thing-which-is-not-to-be-mentioned. I
meant what I said, I don't blame you for that. But I am
pissed by your continued absence.
What are you punishing me for?
Bobby.
Subj: Re: And back to square one...
Date: 4/28/99 21:01:45 EST
From: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
To: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
Bobby,
> You couldn't even wait around for my apology? <
You have nothing to apologise for.
Subj: Bobby And His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.
Date: 4/28/99 21:14:04 EST
From: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Hank,
> You have nothing to apologise for. <
Oh no, of-course I don't. I can do no wrong, can I. I'm
Saint Robert the Perfect, Bobby the soon to be Matyred.
I'm not dead yet Hank, could we please postpone the
fucking canonisation?
Christ, I wish people would stop making exceptions for my
and my attitude because of the thing-which-is-not-to-be-
mentioned. I was an asshole. Be pissed at me. You can do
it, I know you can. God damn it, you're still _allowed_.
::sigh::
Right... so, should I change the subject and pretend I
didn't notice the way you completely avoided responding
to the rest of the letter?
... Nah.
So okay. Okay. To quote someone or other, your
stubbornness has ceased to be a virtue. I'd let it go if
I had the time to wait for you to come around, but I
don't. So I won't, I can't. I don't want to shuffle off
knowing you're going to be killing yourself with guilt -
not to mention overwork, 10 bucks says you aren't
sleeping more than 2 hours in every 24... but anyway...
So will you just tell me, what the hell are you afraid
will happen if you see me?
Because nothing's gonna happen. I don't hate you. I don't
want to hurt you. The world almost certainly won't end,
though I guess you can never be too sure with us.
Although, actually, and here's an atypically insightful
psychological comment from me (stop staring, you aren't
the only one with access to a dictionary) I think you'd
probably feel better if I _did_ want to hurt you,
wouldn't you? Penance, right? Redemption through
suffering and all that shit (hey, I went to Sunday
School). Geez, Blue, and you not even a catholic...
So - what then, are you scared if you actually _see_ me,
you'll be able to tell that I really _don't_ hate you,
and neither does anyone else? And then you'll have to
<gasp> <shock> <horror> _forgive_ yourself? (and would
someone please tell me when the hell _I_ became the adult
in this relationship?)
Hank, Hank, Hank, what am I supposed to do with you?
You're my best friend. You're my family. I love you. I
don't want you to blame yourself, and I don`t want you to
hurt. Is any of this getting through to you? Am I going
to have to get sappy?
Because I may start holding a grudge after all if you
force me to get sappy.
Bobby.
Subj: (no subject)
Date: 4/29/99 02:34:56 EST
From: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
To: [email protected] (Robert Drake)
My friend,
Given that I am supposed to be a man of words, of
letters, I don't know why it should so constantly be of
late that I have none. Given that I am also supposed to
be a man of courage, I don't know why I should be so
likewise bereft of it. Though I seem to still have a near
infinite supply of pomposity...
I can't face you.
It is not that there is nothing I need to say to you.
Bobby, the list of things I need to tell you is endless.
But all the things on it are apologies; you refuse to
accept them, and I can't not apologise. I can't find
other words. I can't find any words at all. You say you
are sick of my sorry, I am just sick, heart and soul,
that I have done this to you.
You ask me what I'm afraid will happen if I come home,
I'm not sure I even know. Everything you say is entirely
sensible, logical, rational (perhaps I should check for
pods after all.)
But I just can't seem to come home. I just... can't.
And I think you understand me better than you pretend to.
You usually do.
A wise man would probably delete this and start over, and
I must be very wise, because I've done that twelve or so
times already. But it's late, and I am so tired, and I've
gone too long without replying already.
And I don't want you to think that I'm ignoring you. I
never do, you know.
Hank
Subj: Message from Bobby
Date: 4/30/99 15:18:28 EST
From: [email protected] (Scott S.)
To: [email protected] (Henry McCoy)
Hank,
I guess Cecelia told you, Bobby's been in quarantine for
the last couple of weeks. He still has a computer in
there, but he's getting too weak to use it, so he asked
me to send you this:
"If you're not back before I bite it, I'll haunt you
forever, you big stupid ball of fur. All is forgiven.
Come the fuck home."
I thought about... paraphrasing, but he told me not to.
Besides, I thought it had a certain something, just the
way it was.
He also told us to give you until tomorrow to come back
by yourself, otherwise, we're coming to get you, and I
swear Hank, I will haul you home by the fur myself if you
aren't back in 24 hours.
I never wanted to have to say this, but there isn't a lot
of time left. It's progressed so much faster than we
expected. You need to be here. Bobby needs you to be
here. We all do.
Come the fuck home.
Scott.
***
"Hank." Jean hugged him, hard, and pulled away wiping
tears out of her eyes. "Okay." She said firmly after a
moment. "You need to put on a isolation suit if you want
to go in there."
"I don't need -"
"Put on the damn suit Hank." Her voice was edged with
grief. "I am _not_ losing you too."
He put on the suit before he went in.
"Hank." Bobby said, and smiled. "Well _finally_." And
then he started laughing, weakly, painfully. "Jesus. Have
you seen yourself? You look like a big yellow blimp in
that thing!" And gestured him over, tugged him close,
hugged him as hard as he could through the yellow blimp
suit, and whispered, "It's okay,"
And, "No it isn't," Hank somehow managed not to say,
"Nothing's okay."
~end.
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