Author: Kat Lee
Character/Pairing: Beast/Storm, mentions of past Wolverine/Storm
Challenge/Prompt: 1_million_words Weekend Challenge: Welcome Spring: Even if you think the Big Bang created the stars, don't you wonder who sent the flowers? ~Robert Brault
Warning(s): Cannon Character Death
Word Count: 1,288
Date Written: 16 April 2017
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Marvel Comics and Disney, not the author, and are used without permission.
There are thousands of scientific explanations for everything under the sun. There are very valid reasons behind everything that happens or even merely exists, from the way people view the sun, the moon, and the stars to the reason they walk this earth to the very emotion that labors in his heart though he's tried so long to deny it. He is a man of science, not religion, faith, or other belief. He is certainly not a man who allows sentiments or romance to dictate his actions or thoughts. He's certainly heard enough complaints in that area from his various lovers over the years.
And yet, some days, it's hard to remember that. It's hard to maintain a logical control over his actions and not fall prey to romance or to those invisible hormones that so many mistake for Cupid's arrows. It's harder still some days to remember that the woman he loves -- and yes, he does love her, love is a very real thing although still ruled by science -- loves another and that her heart will never be his.
Hank crouches as still as a statue, his blue eyes silently following his lady's every move. He knows she prays to a feminine deity, and he still finds himself, every once in a while, following his mother's example and praying to a God who too often doesn't seem to care. But the closest thing he's ever experienced to a truly divine form is Ororo Munroe herself. She once proclaimed to be a Goddess, and watching her, it's very easy to see why so many people were so easily led astray. She seems to possess all the world's elegance and beauty in one, too mortal form.
Hank's sigh emits as softly as the breeze rustling through the trees, flowers, and his own thick, blue fur. She is truly an image to behold! But she is not his. Her heart still belongs to one of his dearest friends, although he, like so many others, was taken from them far too soon. He has no right to lust after her, no right to watch her like this, but watch he does.
He's made worse mistakes already in his life, and he knows he will again. Being an X-Man seems to come hand in hand with making mistakes, too often ones that affect the entire world or, at least, their world. Hank tenses as the Spring breeze sways the flowers and tall grasses in the opposite direction. If she turns around, he'll know Ororo will see him. She'll look at him in shock, perhaps even in disdain, and his secret will be laid open between them. Still, he can not seem to tear his eyes away.
Watching her, he is reminded of an old quote. There are many theories as to how the Earth came into being. One of the ones he tends to lean toward himself is indeed the Big Bang theory. It makes more sense, after all, than some enormous, unseen, cosmic being shaping human beings out of dirt and breathing life into them, but with all Hank has seen and experienced over the years, he still can not rule out the thought of a Supreme Being. That again is where his Christian raising comes in, but watching Ororo, he has no inclination to believe in a single, male God.
Indeed, it's just the opposite. Watching Ororo, seeing the flowers in all their beauty tilt toward her, witnessing the sun bathe her soft, chocolate skin in golden hues, Hank can not help but to feel allegiance stirring deep inside of him: allegiance for a Goddess who may never look upon him the same as he gazes upon her. And why should she? He is but a lowly beast. He's courted many beauties over his years, but never has he dared aspire to a Goddess.
Ororo pauses up ahead. He ducks back but not in time. She looks over her slim shoulder, shining and sparkling in her sun-kissed, silver uniform. Her eyes lock with his, and for a moment, Hank's afraid. Then she smiles, and he remembers, with gladness in his heart, the one time she kissed him. It was only a soft brush of her lips against his furry cheek, a mere kiss of gratitude between friends, but it was a kiss nonetheless. What he wouldn't give for another from her!
But such is not to be for even as his muscles strain to leap forward toward her, being made hesitant only by the fears circling in his logical mind, Ororo turns away from him again. She glides into the air, merely stepping onto the wind itself like a true Goddess assailing to the Heavens. Hank lets her go, but her smile lingers in his mind's eye. She smiled! She may not have smiled necessarily at him -- she may have simply been smiling and he chanced to see it --, but she did smile!
Perhaps her days of grieving are finally coming to an end. He has taken her to the stars where she could release her pain and sorrow far, far away from their home world and without fear of hurting any one too many times. He has ached to hold her, yearned to wrap his arms around her and somehow protect her from a pain he knows is not from without but within (and, thereby, one from which she can not be protected), longed to hold her and whisper that everything was okay even when it seemed like nothing would ever be okay again. But his Goddess is smiling again!
Hank feels a great weight being lifted from him. For a moment, like the flowers all around him, he turns his head toward the warmth of the sun, continuing to watch as his Goddess ascends. She looks back once more at him, still smiling, and his heart wants to sing. He can almost hear a song being whispered by the trees and flowers around them raising their voices in tribute to her beauty.
Hank smiles and sits back on his furry heels. He can not appraise her beauty aloud. He can not ever hope to have her love grace him as anything more than a friend. But he does have an answer to that question once coined by the great tenor, Robert Brault. The Big Bang may have created the world. Perhaps there is no stronger power guiding their life forces than their own decisions in this world. Perhaps every religion has it wrong and there is no Higher Being. Perhaps . . .
Nevertheless, he knows why the flowers were created. This meadow of flowers was created by the very Goddess above him. He can still remember when the land here was left barren after a Sentinel attack that now seems like several lifetimes ago. It was scorched in the heat of battle, and nothing wanted to grow here afterwards. But Ororo made it grow. Her elegant fingers kissed the earth below his feet, and beauty sprang to life everywhere she touched.
She made these flowers. She healed this land as she does so many of the lives she touches. He's been so worried about healing her, but now he knows, as he hears another voice add to the song raising from the earth all around him, that he need not have worried so. He couldn't heal her. She had to heal herself, but she also healed him. She is the reason the flowers grow and the reason this old beast smiles again. She is his Goddess and the reason why, as he watches her from so far below her on multiple levels, this old beast, the animal and the man too, purrs again.