Crossover between Mutant X and Odyssey 5. You don't need to know anything
about either.
Many thanks as always to the speedy and efficient JillyW for the supersonic beta.
*****
One Way Ticket
by Chya
Kurt Mandel sat in the first class compartment of the train leaning his head against the window, eyes watching the dark silhouettes of passing countryside and townships while his brain sprinted in circles around all he was running from. He barely registered the squealing brakes, the juddering halt, guard's voice and slow re-start that were the usual encapsulation of a stop at some rural station. The only thing different was the addition of a new passenger in his compartment. one he wished would go away and leave him in his solitude.
Jesse Kilmartin picked the only first class compartment that looked like it might offer some peace. A single man, older, tired and worn, was gazing into the darkness outside, looking as depressed as he felt. Slumping into the corner diagonally opposite, Jesse joined the other man in his vacant stare.
The train rattled its way through the night, the humming and venting of electricity and diesel ridden rough-shod over by iron wheels on iron, rhythmically thumping at every joint in the track, randomly over merging tracks and junctions towards some final destination no one cared about.
The two men that shared that compartment in silence shared far more in thought, if they but knew it.
One thought of Angela, the one woman he loved and adored over all others, for whom the myriad meaningless women in his life meant nothing. Because not a single one could ever even hope to come close to the prickly, intelligent, blunt, funny, moody and beautiful woman that Angela was. His Angela, the woman smart enough and brave enough to be not just a pilot but also an astronaut, and who had in recent weeks announced her engagement to a cosmonaut named Dmitri.
While the other thought of a blonde feral, a woman of extreme emotions, who took no nonsense from anyone, who cared as fiercely as she hated. The feline in Shalimar's DNA make up provided her with senses and movements that were so naturally sensual that any man who looked her way couldn't help but admire her. A woman he loved and adored as a sister. And who had announced her engagement to his worst nightmare.
A shared smile as the catering trolley came round. Two coffees. One white without, the other black with. Kurt sipped at his, cursing American plastic catering, and the younger man opposite laughed. The younger man whose need for a razor was greater than his own, whose dark circled eyes almost rivalled his own, whose gaunt haunted visage was like looking in a mirror. No one that young had a right to look that tired. He pulled out his hip flask, poured a generous drop in his coffee, hesitated, then offered some to the other, who refused. Then as one, they turned back to the window,
Still smiling a little, one thought of a red headed girl with big innocent eyes, but a mind sharper and more powerful than any ordinary human being. Felt a little guilty for leaving, even knowing that out of them all Emma would understand best, But still, a twinge of guilt that she would be the one left to explain it all to the others.
The other considered a dark skinned woman whose spirit shone brighter than the rest of the Five put together. Who challenged his beliefs, or lack of them, constantly. Was the one who was most different from him, yet was perhaps the one who understood him best. Poor Sarah; out of them all, it was she who fought hardest in this second chance, her previous life being one of tragedy, so determined not to suffer any of it again.
Kurt shied away from the one who was next in his thoughts, preferring to dwell on the youngest of the team, the boy who somehow managed to almost always end up being the most mature of them. In many ways, despite the age gap, and despite the fact that he'd never tell him, Neil was probably the one he felt closest to, the one with whom he could discuss techno-babble. Even though Neil's was IT and his own was genetic, there was enough commonality that they could get excited together over things that were beyond the others comprehension. An almost equal, intellectually, yet young enough to have the same boyish mischief that Kurt had never grown out of.
Jesse knew he'd miss Adam. Father figure, mentor and friend, the older man had given him much more than his own father ever had. Had encouraged him in whatever fields he chose to follow, no expectations other than to do his best. Adam's field was genetics, while his own was computers, but they could talk theories all night. Adam might be the genius, but Jesse was confident that he held his own. And the others, while each smart in their own way, they just weren't interested in those kinds of discussions. He just wished that Adam could see that he'd grown up. But he was past that now, it was too late to wish because he'd burned his bridges.
Time must have been flying faster than the trees and houses speeding by as the catering trolley arrived again. Two coffees and she didn't need to ask how they wanted them. Kurt offered the flask and Jesse refused. A shared smile and back to the window again.
Why did Shalimar have to agree to marry Brennan of all people? The great ape had stolen everything else from him, why did he need to go that extra mile and take her? He'd already usurped his place as Adam's number one son, had made inroads into proving himself as competent a hacker as Jesse himself was. Brennan had even taken it upon himself to be the leader in all situations, where before his arrival they'd been a team that worked so smoothly no leader had been needed. Jesse couldn't hold Brennan's role as Emma's protector against him - they had come into Mutant X together - but then the big jerk had slowly and gently tugged Shalimar away from him. Shal had been his close big sis, but when Brennan came along that was reduced to close friends, then friends, as she got closer to Brennan and further away from him. Then the announcement.
He'd tried to be happy for them, because if Shal was happy then he should be happy, but he'd not been able to quite pull it off. Shal knew it by the way she'd hugged him, hard and long, like she hadn't done in so damned long. Emma had berated him for feeling jealous and hurt, like he had no right to. And Brennan had given him that look, the one that said, 'Hey pal, look at me, aren't I the best? And I got the best chick, too.' He hadn't been able to stick around long, knocked back the champagne and gone to work out in the dojo. That was where Emma had berated him further. Where Adam had ordered him back to the party like he was eight years old and playing truant. Didn't even want to listen.
Cherry on the icing came when Shal got hit the next day; not seriously, but enough that even her stoicism wasn't enough to stop her screaming. Jesse had been protecting a kid. Should have been protecting Shal. Obviously. And Brennan had let him know it in no uncertain terms how useless he was. Emma hadn't seen, took Brennan's word for it, tried and convicted him, as did Adam. Shal would have probably put them right, but he'd skipped out before she'd woken up. Hung around long enough to be sure she was okay, then took the Audi out into the desert, left it in a ditch, hiked into the nearest town and caught the next train bound for who gives a shit where.
And here he was.
Chucky and Kurtrude, the biggest joke on the planet. At least half of it was, and Chucky made no bones about what he thought of Kurt. Up until Paige's passing, Kurt had wished that Chucky could understand that no one, absolutely no one can hate you as much you can hate yourself. When his wife died, however, Chuck fell into such a deep depression that Kurt thought he might understand. But no, he'd picked himself up, made out with the waitress and carried right on throwing those damned rhetorical stones at Kurt.
Which was fine, because Kurt was used to it.
Until it turned out that Kurt's synthetic wasn't as dead as it should have been. Nearly sucked out all of Angela's seratonin, sent her into a coma, and Kurt had spent too long alternating between the kid in the coma from the first time, and Angela. Kid died, and Angela didn't. Sarah had always condemned him for making the synthetic in the first place. At least she was consistent. Neil had looked betrayed, and the vitriol that had spewed from Chucky's mouth had been obscene, degrading, and every word the truth. Kurt had murdered by proxy, and by that same proxy had almost killed a team- mate. Dmitri hadn't known what was going on, just sat in confused Russian stoicism, holding Angela's hand.
So, in typical Kurt fashion. he'd fled. Except this time the bottom of a bottle, the end of a tope, it hadn't been enough what with reality still being there when he sobered up, so he'd taken the other option. If he was going to run, then the others would expect him to fly first class, caviar and champagne, so he'd opted the anonymity of the good old American railroad. Left a trail that hopefully even Sarah's journalistic instincts couldn't follow.
There might only be five years to save the planet, but they didn't need him to do it. They knew his contacts by now for anything genetic, had his infrared set up. They didn't need him and would be glad that he was gone; no need to disguise the hate and repugnance any longer.
No one could hate him as much as he hated himself.
Again, the catering trolley came by, two coffees and this time she threw in peanuts for free. Kurt offered his hipflask and this time Jesse accepted.
The heavily doctored coffee was warm and fuzzy as it percolated Jesse's bloodstream, and he suddenly remembered why he never usually drank much more than a beer or two as his foot phased through the floor and he tilted sideways. He caught himself, looked at his companion hoped he hadn't noticed. Unfortunately it appeared he had, wide eyed and pushing himself into his corner.
"Synthetic?" asked Kurt.
Jesse shook his head. "Genetic."
And there began a long conversation on genetics, synthetics, mutants and sentients, ending with the story of five years to save the earth.
Neither really cared about that.
The catering trolley came by again. More coffee and peanuts,
Mutual agreement that running to nowhere was better than staying in hell.
"Your friends will miss you." Kurt imparting the wisdom of his maturity, the boy in front of him haggard and drawn and too young to be so disillusioned.
"And yours will miss you." Jesse responding with the obvious, since he could see ages old heartache in the older man's face.
Too long on the train, and too tired, Kurt took a few moments, considered Angela's derision, Sarah's righteousness, Neil's reproach and Chuck's spiteful contempt. "No they won't. But you're young enough to start again."
Jesse thought about it carefully, unwilling to be superficial here and now, in a place and time where he felt older and more burdened than Atlas holding the world on his shoulders. Brennan's bald hatred, Adam's indifference, Emma's disdain and Shalimar's abandonment - and his own family's condemnation before that. He shook his head. "I can't, not again. Not anymore."
Kurt looked again at the boy in front of him, saw the drawn features and loss of hope. Saw the Audi crashed nose first into the ditch, the drop of blood inside the driver's window. Saw the boy's friends find the last evidence of his existence, saw them walk away together. Everyone had their breaking point.
And Jesse returned the gaze, seeing the ingrained laughter lines of the circus clown that covered the Pierot doll inside. Saw the bottles, drugs and women that the man drowned himself in, saw his friends picking over the evidence, sad but not entirely unexpected. Driven too far.
The catering trolley came round again, coffee and peanuts, two more doses from the never-ending hipflask, and on a train bound for nowhere, two men sat in silence, staring out into the darkness of their own making.
FINIS
Many thanks as always to the speedy and efficient JillyW for the supersonic beta.
*****
One Way Ticket
by Chya
Kurt Mandel sat in the first class compartment of the train leaning his head against the window, eyes watching the dark silhouettes of passing countryside and townships while his brain sprinted in circles around all he was running from. He barely registered the squealing brakes, the juddering halt, guard's voice and slow re-start that were the usual encapsulation of a stop at some rural station. The only thing different was the addition of a new passenger in his compartment. one he wished would go away and leave him in his solitude.
Jesse Kilmartin picked the only first class compartment that looked like it might offer some peace. A single man, older, tired and worn, was gazing into the darkness outside, looking as depressed as he felt. Slumping into the corner diagonally opposite, Jesse joined the other man in his vacant stare.
The train rattled its way through the night, the humming and venting of electricity and diesel ridden rough-shod over by iron wheels on iron, rhythmically thumping at every joint in the track, randomly over merging tracks and junctions towards some final destination no one cared about.
The two men that shared that compartment in silence shared far more in thought, if they but knew it.
One thought of Angela, the one woman he loved and adored over all others, for whom the myriad meaningless women in his life meant nothing. Because not a single one could ever even hope to come close to the prickly, intelligent, blunt, funny, moody and beautiful woman that Angela was. His Angela, the woman smart enough and brave enough to be not just a pilot but also an astronaut, and who had in recent weeks announced her engagement to a cosmonaut named Dmitri.
While the other thought of a blonde feral, a woman of extreme emotions, who took no nonsense from anyone, who cared as fiercely as she hated. The feline in Shalimar's DNA make up provided her with senses and movements that were so naturally sensual that any man who looked her way couldn't help but admire her. A woman he loved and adored as a sister. And who had announced her engagement to his worst nightmare.
A shared smile as the catering trolley came round. Two coffees. One white without, the other black with. Kurt sipped at his, cursing American plastic catering, and the younger man opposite laughed. The younger man whose need for a razor was greater than his own, whose dark circled eyes almost rivalled his own, whose gaunt haunted visage was like looking in a mirror. No one that young had a right to look that tired. He pulled out his hip flask, poured a generous drop in his coffee, hesitated, then offered some to the other, who refused. Then as one, they turned back to the window,
Still smiling a little, one thought of a red headed girl with big innocent eyes, but a mind sharper and more powerful than any ordinary human being. Felt a little guilty for leaving, even knowing that out of them all Emma would understand best, But still, a twinge of guilt that she would be the one left to explain it all to the others.
The other considered a dark skinned woman whose spirit shone brighter than the rest of the Five put together. Who challenged his beliefs, or lack of them, constantly. Was the one who was most different from him, yet was perhaps the one who understood him best. Poor Sarah; out of them all, it was she who fought hardest in this second chance, her previous life being one of tragedy, so determined not to suffer any of it again.
Kurt shied away from the one who was next in his thoughts, preferring to dwell on the youngest of the team, the boy who somehow managed to almost always end up being the most mature of them. In many ways, despite the age gap, and despite the fact that he'd never tell him, Neil was probably the one he felt closest to, the one with whom he could discuss techno-babble. Even though Neil's was IT and his own was genetic, there was enough commonality that they could get excited together over things that were beyond the others comprehension. An almost equal, intellectually, yet young enough to have the same boyish mischief that Kurt had never grown out of.
Jesse knew he'd miss Adam. Father figure, mentor and friend, the older man had given him much more than his own father ever had. Had encouraged him in whatever fields he chose to follow, no expectations other than to do his best. Adam's field was genetics, while his own was computers, but they could talk theories all night. Adam might be the genius, but Jesse was confident that he held his own. And the others, while each smart in their own way, they just weren't interested in those kinds of discussions. He just wished that Adam could see that he'd grown up. But he was past that now, it was too late to wish because he'd burned his bridges.
Time must have been flying faster than the trees and houses speeding by as the catering trolley arrived again. Two coffees and she didn't need to ask how they wanted them. Kurt offered the flask and Jesse refused. A shared smile and back to the window again.
Why did Shalimar have to agree to marry Brennan of all people? The great ape had stolen everything else from him, why did he need to go that extra mile and take her? He'd already usurped his place as Adam's number one son, had made inroads into proving himself as competent a hacker as Jesse himself was. Brennan had even taken it upon himself to be the leader in all situations, where before his arrival they'd been a team that worked so smoothly no leader had been needed. Jesse couldn't hold Brennan's role as Emma's protector against him - they had come into Mutant X together - but then the big jerk had slowly and gently tugged Shalimar away from him. Shal had been his close big sis, but when Brennan came along that was reduced to close friends, then friends, as she got closer to Brennan and further away from him. Then the announcement.
He'd tried to be happy for them, because if Shal was happy then he should be happy, but he'd not been able to quite pull it off. Shal knew it by the way she'd hugged him, hard and long, like she hadn't done in so damned long. Emma had berated him for feeling jealous and hurt, like he had no right to. And Brennan had given him that look, the one that said, 'Hey pal, look at me, aren't I the best? And I got the best chick, too.' He hadn't been able to stick around long, knocked back the champagne and gone to work out in the dojo. That was where Emma had berated him further. Where Adam had ordered him back to the party like he was eight years old and playing truant. Didn't even want to listen.
Cherry on the icing came when Shal got hit the next day; not seriously, but enough that even her stoicism wasn't enough to stop her screaming. Jesse had been protecting a kid. Should have been protecting Shal. Obviously. And Brennan had let him know it in no uncertain terms how useless he was. Emma hadn't seen, took Brennan's word for it, tried and convicted him, as did Adam. Shal would have probably put them right, but he'd skipped out before she'd woken up. Hung around long enough to be sure she was okay, then took the Audi out into the desert, left it in a ditch, hiked into the nearest town and caught the next train bound for who gives a shit where.
And here he was.
Chucky and Kurtrude, the biggest joke on the planet. At least half of it was, and Chucky made no bones about what he thought of Kurt. Up until Paige's passing, Kurt had wished that Chucky could understand that no one, absolutely no one can hate you as much you can hate yourself. When his wife died, however, Chuck fell into such a deep depression that Kurt thought he might understand. But no, he'd picked himself up, made out with the waitress and carried right on throwing those damned rhetorical stones at Kurt.
Which was fine, because Kurt was used to it.
Until it turned out that Kurt's synthetic wasn't as dead as it should have been. Nearly sucked out all of Angela's seratonin, sent her into a coma, and Kurt had spent too long alternating between the kid in the coma from the first time, and Angela. Kid died, and Angela didn't. Sarah had always condemned him for making the synthetic in the first place. At least she was consistent. Neil had looked betrayed, and the vitriol that had spewed from Chucky's mouth had been obscene, degrading, and every word the truth. Kurt had murdered by proxy, and by that same proxy had almost killed a team- mate. Dmitri hadn't known what was going on, just sat in confused Russian stoicism, holding Angela's hand.
So, in typical Kurt fashion. he'd fled. Except this time the bottom of a bottle, the end of a tope, it hadn't been enough what with reality still being there when he sobered up, so he'd taken the other option. If he was going to run, then the others would expect him to fly first class, caviar and champagne, so he'd opted the anonymity of the good old American railroad. Left a trail that hopefully even Sarah's journalistic instincts couldn't follow.
There might only be five years to save the planet, but they didn't need him to do it. They knew his contacts by now for anything genetic, had his infrared set up. They didn't need him and would be glad that he was gone; no need to disguise the hate and repugnance any longer.
No one could hate him as much as he hated himself.
Again, the catering trolley came by, two coffees and this time she threw in peanuts for free. Kurt offered his hipflask and this time Jesse accepted.
The heavily doctored coffee was warm and fuzzy as it percolated Jesse's bloodstream, and he suddenly remembered why he never usually drank much more than a beer or two as his foot phased through the floor and he tilted sideways. He caught himself, looked at his companion hoped he hadn't noticed. Unfortunately it appeared he had, wide eyed and pushing himself into his corner.
"Synthetic?" asked Kurt.
Jesse shook his head. "Genetic."
And there began a long conversation on genetics, synthetics, mutants and sentients, ending with the story of five years to save the earth.
Neither really cared about that.
The catering trolley came by again. More coffee and peanuts,
Mutual agreement that running to nowhere was better than staying in hell.
"Your friends will miss you." Kurt imparting the wisdom of his maturity, the boy in front of him haggard and drawn and too young to be so disillusioned.
"And yours will miss you." Jesse responding with the obvious, since he could see ages old heartache in the older man's face.
Too long on the train, and too tired, Kurt took a few moments, considered Angela's derision, Sarah's righteousness, Neil's reproach and Chuck's spiteful contempt. "No they won't. But you're young enough to start again."
Jesse thought about it carefully, unwilling to be superficial here and now, in a place and time where he felt older and more burdened than Atlas holding the world on his shoulders. Brennan's bald hatred, Adam's indifference, Emma's disdain and Shalimar's abandonment - and his own family's condemnation before that. He shook his head. "I can't, not again. Not anymore."
Kurt looked again at the boy in front of him, saw the drawn features and loss of hope. Saw the Audi crashed nose first into the ditch, the drop of blood inside the driver's window. Saw the boy's friends find the last evidence of his existence, saw them walk away together. Everyone had their breaking point.
And Jesse returned the gaze, seeing the ingrained laughter lines of the circus clown that covered the Pierot doll inside. Saw the bottles, drugs and women that the man drowned himself in, saw his friends picking over the evidence, sad but not entirely unexpected. Driven too far.
The catering trolley came round again, coffee and peanuts, two more doses from the never-ending hipflask, and on a train bound for nowhere, two men sat in silence, staring out into the darkness of their own making.
FINIS