Chapter 14

He had lost this round. Watching the airship until it was out of sight, Damien Acosta conceded that much. Distracting him with that sudden, piercing blare of sound and then slewing the ship around to bring its engines to bear, forcing him to release them in order to create a strong telekinetic shield to protect himself from either being burned by the heat or flayed alive in the fierce backwash, had been an unexpected and canny move. His respect for his adversaries rose a notch even as he cursed himself for underestimating their ingenuity. He had them in his grasp, and he let them slip away. This was a significant setback to his plans – significant, but not insurmountable. He would have to be better prepared the next time.

And there would be a next time. Damien knew that with utter certainty.

The situation was not a total loss, however. He still had the data and blood samples taken from the woman before the assault. Her husband thought he had destroyed it, but it had already been transferred on to his new facility. Mutant X would think the same thing, and report that destruction to the Dominion. That gave him an advantage, a window of time that he should be able to exploit.

The first order of business was to settle things here. He took out his phone and ordered his Chief Operating Officer at the Providence facility to scramble every available forensics team over to Naxcon. He knew that Brennan Mulwray had been severely injured, and through Jason Voss he had observed blood on the feral, Shalimar Fox. Chances were good that some of that blood had been left here, and he wanted every bit of that valuable DNA that could be recovered. He had big plans for it.

Naxcon would have to be torched after that, of course. He disliked having to do it, as the company had supplied a steady flow of cash, but there was no help for it. As soon as the Dominion learned what had happened here they would be all over the place, and there were certain things that they must not find – among them the bodies of their operatives. Damien was fairly sure that gray-suited assault squad was from the Dominion, and that their mission was to take the woman. But over Mutant X's dead bodies? Was the mutant team going rogue, or was this a typical Dominion betrayal? That was the question, and a most intriguing one at that. The Dominion may have just provided him with a lever to pry Mutant X from their side to his. Damien found the stairwell door and opened it, mulling the possibilities over in his mind. Mulwray and the others could be valuable allies. At the moment, though, he just didn't have enough information to speculate with any degree of accuracy. Perhaps a chat with the assault squad's leader would prove helpful. It was a good thing he had the foresight to keep the man alive, at least for the present.

He started down the flight of stairs from the roof, more tired than he wanted to admit. Trying to stop the airship had drained him severely, but it was good to know that he was more than equal to the task. If not for their stratagem he would have had that ship on the ground and all the occupants in custody, particularly the woman and her unborn child. As worn down as they all were, they would have been no match for him.

He walked down the steps to the second floor. Uniformed Naxcon medical technicians scurried here and there, calling to each other over the radios in their fists, latched boxes of splints, drugs and other medical supplies bouncing against their thighs as they hurried back and forth between groups of wounded. He stopped a pair leading a battered Special Forces operative toward the elevator, speaking briefly with the female half of the team before allowing them to proceed. In the atrium below another team had their hands full tending to six others in various stages of consciousness. Damien looked out over the rail, watching them.

Today's debacle had severely depleted his Special Forces units. If the medtech's preliminary report was to be believed, nearly two-thirds of his grafted mutants were either dead or incapacitated. He wouldn't have thought it possible that Mutant X could have caused so much damage, even with the addition of the telekinetic. By his calculations they had to have been outnumbered by at least three to one. The master of Naxcon shook his head in wonder.

They were formidable indeed. Damien would have to give long and serious thought to devising a strategy to bring them into his orbit without jeopardizing his overall plans. He would like to have them of their own accord, but it was possible to get them without it. It would have to be done carefully; they would no doubt be wary of him at first, especially with the Dominion pouring poisons into their ears. But it could be done. He would have to keep his initial contacts unobtrusive, bend them slowly into turning against their Dominion masters, because the kind of telepathic coercion he had achieved with Jason Voss was a delicate thing in the early stages. It would take time to bind them to him, but bind them he would, and all without their knowledge. It would be a challenge, but the rewards could be great.

Thinking of Voss reminded him that he was also going to have to find a replacement for the man. It was a pity, really; he had been so nicely broken in. Voss' death was what stopped him from capturing the three fleeing women. He had been mentally connected with his security chief when the Pierce woman killed him, sending feedback shocks of white-hot lightning sizzling through Acosta's brain and stunning him long enough for Mutant X to escape with his prize. Lexa Pierce would pay dearly for that, but Acosta decided that he probably wouldn't kill her. Her powers, her training, made her too useful a tool to waste if he didn't have to, but it also made her dangerous. Perhaps he would just put her in stasis, siphoning her DNA to create an unending supply of Lexas. That idea had possibilities.

But that was all secondary. He needed the empath to really accelerate his plans. The data they obtained from her would give them a good start, but with her he could make himself invincible. Where had Mutant X taken her? To Sanctuary? Damien didn't think so. The logical thing to do would be to hide her again as she had been hidden all these years. That, however, couldn't happen right away. They needed to take her somewhere. Damien gave serious thought to mustering all his remaining forces in a winner-take-all gamble to find and capture her again, but finally decided against it. Patience, he counseled himself. He must keep his eye on his ultimate goal. The Dominion had greater resources at the moment, not to mention the inside track with Lexa Pierce acting as liaison between them and Mutant X. She would report to her contact where they took the empath and her husband. The Dominion would then start gathering information to plan an assault – information that he would gain as well from his spies. In the meantime he would use the data and resources he already had to rebuild his faux mutant army. He would wait and watch and plan. Then, when the time was right, he would destroy the Dominion, seize the woman, and grind her husband into the dust.

This wasn't over yet – not by a long shot.

The slingshot effect of the Double Helix's sudden release had them out of sight of Naxcon in just a few seconds. Jesse cut back on the throttle to ease the strain on her overworked engines. The temperature gauge gradually fell back once more to safe levels, and the accompanying alarm fell silent. They were safe. He slumped back in the pilot's chair, wincing as his back muscles protested. He shifted slightly, trying to stretch them and gain some relief without attracting attention.

Shalimar slackened her grip on the back of Brennan's seat, releasing his head from where it had been braced between her cheek and the crook of her elbow. Pushing off the knee she had lodged between his, she drew back slowly, not even realizing until now how she had wrapped herself against him when the jolting started, even though she knew perfectly well that he had been securely buckled into his seat. Her hand slid down, lingering briefly on his neck. It wasn't necessary for her to check his pulse; she knew that intellectually, but her hand seemed to have a mind of its own, so she went along with it, not really questioning the action. When it came back steady and strong she drew away with a feather-light stroke along the firm, square line of his jaw and went back to her own seat, picking up the last blanket from the cushion and pushing the first aid kit aside before plopping down, weary to the bone. The sudden sharp pain in her left shoulder reminded her of the glass embedded in her skin, so she leaned forward and swiveled the seat around, the folded blanket across her lap.

Matt had also relaxed his posture, easing back from Jaryl a few inches. From her vantage point Shalimar could almost see the wordless communication flashing back and forth between them. It was there in his apprehensive, even anxious countenance, the rueful lift of her eyelashes, the faint, self-deprecating quirk at the corner of her mouth. Jaryl managed to free her good hand from the cover and reached up to touch his face in a reassuring, if wavering caress. He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, giving himself up to her touch. Then Shalimar saw something like fear leap in his face as her strength failed; he caught her hand as it fell and clasped it tightly in his, as though anchoring her to him. He kept his eyes locked on her, and the feral felt very much a voyeur to be watching such an intimate moment, with his love and deep worry written so plainly on his taut face.

Jaryl gave him a tremulous little smile. The blanket quivered as she inhaled three times in quick, jerky breaths. Then she exhaled more slowly, the breath leaving her in a soft sort of sigh, the blanket settling on her breasts. Her eyes drifted closed, her head lolling against his bracing arm.

Matt went unnaturally still for a long moment. Slowly, haltingly, he leaned forward. His lips brushed hers ever so tenderly in a kiss she could no longer feel. His head bowed low, still clasping her limp hand in his. A tremor ran through his body. Drops of water which could have been sweat or tears left dark little spots on the pale gray blanket.

The interior of the Helix was utterly silent. Even Jesse, as intent as he was on his piloting and distracted by his own aches, could feel that something was going on. He glanced over at Lexa. She too had turned her seat around and had been watching the scene. The bruising around her eye gave her a faintly raccoon-like appearance, but what was even more striking was the sorrow he saw on her face. It told him all he needed to know. A crushing wave of grief flowed over him.

Shalimar slipped to her knees beside Matt, unfolding the blanket as she did so. She draped it over his shoulders and hesitantly laid her arm across his back. It was the only support she could offer him, and she was woefully aware of how inadequate a gesture it was. His head lifted unconsciously, his demeanor that of a man sleepwalking. Exhaustion scored deep lines in his face, his dark eyes an abyss of pain.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Shalimar's heart broke over the emptiness she saw there, and even a sort of bewilderment, as if he didn't recognize her or his surroundings. She wished there was something she could say, but as she had learned with Emma and Adam, there really were no magic words that could help heal such a soul-searing grief, this double loss of his wife and his child. Her arm tightened around him.

Matt blinked. He had heard her words, felt the pressure of her half embrace as if from far away. Truthfully, he had forgotten she was there, forgotten even the Helix and their narrow escape from Naxcon. Meeting her eyes, he saw tears glittering in their soft brown depths, felt sympathy and grief from her gentle touch lapping at his unprotected senses. He wondered about it at first, then gradually it began to dawn on him that she was offering him her condolences. His expression cleared slightly.

"No, she's not dead," he said. Immediately he felt a wave of relief transmitted through the arm still across his back, that contact making her thoughts difficult to shut out in his current state. He sensed some confusion as well, so he continued his explanation. "She's just gone under – reduced her energy output to near zero; pulled deep inside herself to better focus on the most critical injuries." He tried to smile and almost succeeded. "She calls it her 'Jedi healing trance'."

He climbed laboriously to his feet, letting Shalimar's arm and the third blanket slide off. He stepped around her. Taking a deep breath, he focused his waning power on his wife, encasing her in a sheathe of telekinetic energy. Her body rose slowly, wobblingly. Shalimar stood and backed up, giving her room. When he had her clear enough of the cushion, he slipped in beneath her. Her body descended gently into his waiting arms. He held her close to him, resting her head on his hard, muscled shoulder, cradling her in his lap as delicately as if she were made of fine china. His power then gathered along her fractured leg, forming a sort of energy cast around it as he eased it to dangle over the edge of the seat.

Shalimar returned to her seat, again twirling it sideways and leaning forward. She had not mistaken the pain she saw in his eyes a moment ago, though he had known that Jaryl was alive. What, then, had caused it? Shalimar had an awful feeling that she knew. She glanced over at Lexa. Her teammate immediately turned back around to the front, but not before Shal caught something in her eyes that made her realize that Lexa had come to the same conclusion. But how could she ask Matt a question like that, even obliquely? Seeking something to do with her hands, she leaned forward and picked up the blanket that had fallen from his shoulders to the aisle floor. She folded it slowly, smoothing the creases with inordinate precision, the wool soft and comforting to her sore hands. She could sense his eyes on her, and it made her nervous. Did he know what she was thinking? She hoped not. She didn't want to add to his pain. Her fingers fiddled with a thread hanging from the binding.

His sight attracted by Shalimar's restless movements, Matt glanced over, watching her as she toyed with the thread. He knew that he was probably the cause of her nervousness. Now that the battle was over and there was nothing else to distract her, she was probably uncomfortable being in such close quarters with him, just as she would be with any other telepath. It was a reaction he was accustomed to, this vague suspicion that he might at any given moment be monitoring the thoughts of another. That was one of the reasons he never went out of his way to advertise that particular ability. Most of the time that kind of suspicion provoked annoyance in him, but from what he could gather from their time at Sanctuary, the feral had sufficient reason to react as she did. She couldn't know that his head ached abominably, or that his current command over his telepathy was practically nonexistent. Maybe if he told her he could put her at ease. His head rolled over sideways, his heavy-lidded gaze meeting hers.

"You can relax, you know; I'm not reading you," he said tiredly, "I'm not sure I could right now even if I wanted to. Nor was I eavesdropping on you while we were at Naxcon. I only connected with Jesse, and then only a surface contact to facilitate communication in battle. I didn't go any deeper than that. I meant what I said before – I don't mind-scan people indiscriminately. Your thoughts are safe from me."

She started, and he sighed inwardly. That was the truth as far as it went, but sympathy for what she must have gone through as well as his growing respect for her compelled him to be completely honest. He drew a long breath and released it slowly, almost visibly bracing himself for another startled reaction. "Which is not to say that I might not pick up a stray thought or two if you broadcast it strongly enough, or if we're in actual physical contact." His features twisted, taking on a rather ironic expression. "I'm afraid my usual defenses are pretty much toast for a while."

Shalimar read the sincerity in his tone and tried to relax. She knew he wasn't like Gabriel Ashlocke, hadn't really feared that he would try to invade her mind, but some monsters died slowly. She appreciated his understanding, that he didn't hold her little phobia against her. Beyond that, she was grateful that he wasn't reading her thoughts right now. This was a private tragedy between husband and wife, and she felt intrusive enough as it was just being aware of it.

She saw him shift a little, trying to ease the unconscious empath to a more comfortable position. The blanket tucked so solicitously around her did a good job of disguising her battered body. Except for a few streaks of blood still on her face and the messy gash on his forehead they could have been taken for a couple cuddling together in a cozy embrace. The only problem was that Shalimar knew better. She had seen the empath curled up in pain, her body rigid, her arms clasped tightly over her belly; had felt the spasms wracking her as she carried Jaryl out of Naxcon. It was a miracle she was still alive.

Jesse made a slight course correction and spoke up worriedly from the pilot's chair.

"Will Jaryl be all right?"

Matt hesitated. Something about his manner made him seem to draw back into the shadows. His voice took on a carefully neutral tone.

"In time."

Silence hung heavy in the air. No one seemed to know how to respond to that; it was apparent to them all that there was something he wasn't saying. Matt didn't appear to notice.

"Brennan has been completely healed," he said, changing the subject, "Jaryl wanted me to tell you that. He'll sleep for a long while, maybe twenty-four hours or more, and he'll be weak for a few days after that, but he's as good as new."

"Why did she do it?" Jesse asked, "Take all of his injuries, I mean. I thought she was just going to stabilize him."

"That was the original plan," Matt answered, "But when I sensed Acosta coming that plan went out the window. Up until then she could proceed carefully, work on Brennan's most critical injuries one at a time until she could get him to a point where he could be moved safely."

Matt's shoulders slumped. "But you know what they say about best-laid plans. Acosta is so powerful that I sensed him coming from a quarter mile away. Jaryl was working on shifting a broken rib away from Brennan's heart. At that point, though, she knew she was out of time. I couldn't have held him off; I was busy getting blindsided by the two missing goons." He gestured toward the cut on his forehead now covered over with clotted blood. "Your warning came just a little late."

"Sorry."

Matt waved a dismissing hand and continued.

"So she took matters into her own hands – she opened herself fully and absorbed everything all at once, figuring that she could deal with the consequences better than Brennan could."

"That glow." Shalimar nodded as if something had just clicked in her mind. Matt gave her a questioning look.

"I remember thinking as I was crossing back over the storage room that the glow from her energy field seemed a lot brighter," she explained, "I thought maybe it was just my imagination, but I guess that was Jaryl opening herself up."

"She was doing what she thought she had to do under the circumstances." He grimaced, his brow furrowing in response to the pounding in his head that he could no longer shunt aside. Deep inside he was castigating himself for not being able to give her more time. Lexa thought she detected a touch of bitterness in his tone and jumped on it.

"Maybe if you'd have stayed there she wouldn't have had to."

Matt glared at her, not at all appreciative of the snarky tone.

"Could you have seen reinforcements coming and given warning?" he snapped coldly, "Could you have fought on three different fronts at the same time? You have no conception of how Jaryl and I work together. For your information, I was there, in ways you can't even imagine. In short, you don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Soundly put in her place, Lexa pursed her lips in a soundless whistle and slowly turned back around, her cheeks flaming. Jesse threw a surprised glance at her, but she ignored him. Silence hung like a dark, heavy cloak in the cabin. Finally Matt spoke again, and when he did his tone was calmer and very earnest.

"There's something I want you to understand," he said, speaking not just to one, but to all three of them, "If Brennan hadn't offered his help - and by extension, yours - I wouldn't have found Jaryl in time. I owe him, and all of you, more than you know. Because of that, and since he was injured trying to help rescue her, Jaryl felt honor-bound to help him. I agreed, despite my concern over what effect it might have on her."

Matt closed his eyes briefly, slumping wearily against the back of the seat, and sighed heavily.

"There's an old saying that with great power comes great responsibility," he continued, "For people like us, it's also about choices, and consequences." He glanced at Brennan's dark head just before him, then over to Shalimar. "But I don't have to tell you about that."

Shalimar's eyes also went to Brennan. No, he didn't have to say anything about choices and consequences. Brennan's sacrifice today was just the latest example of how this team, this family, risked their lives for each other every day…and how, as he had also very nearly demonstrated - sometimes they lost.

Matt's chin dipped toward his chest. He brought his free hand up to slowly stroke his wife's cheek. "What the saying doesn't mention is the cost. Jaryl's power is way off the charts, and she has the strongest, most resilient spirit of anyone I've ever known. Yet as remarkable as her gift is, or maybe because of it, she pays a price every time she uses her power. Sometimes the price is negligible. And sometimes it's almost …too much to bear."

Shalimar's heart sank. His words confirmed her worst fears. Matt must have known as soon as it happened; he looked like he had aged ten years. She couldn't blame him for not wanting to say it out loud. Maybe that was part of the reason Jaryl had 'gone under', to use his phrase. Maybe she needed that private space deep inside herself to come to terms with what had happened. To grieve over her loss.

Matt continued speaking, his eyes still focused on Jaryl's still, grey features.

"Organ traumas are tricky things," he murmured. It was becoming more apparent how exhausted he was; his voice was dropping, and the words were tumbling out now, as if he were too tired to stop them, too drained in body and spirit to even try. He seemed to be almost talking to himself, only peripherally aware of Shalimar, and even less of the other two. "They often have effects beyond the actual injury, create…issues…in other areas. Spread toxins, things like that. Dealing with one is fairly straightforward. Dealing with multiple severe traumas and fractures like she took from Brennan is…very dangerous. She needs to be able to focus her energy, repair one thing at a time, but if she's hit with too much at once, she could…lose control. Unexpected things can occur."

Shalimar spoke up softly.

"Is that what happened – she lost control?"

"Not exactly. There was just so much to juggle, so little time…" His voice trailed off. He tucked a blanket edge a little closer around her, gently brushed back a stray lock of burgundy hair. "I just need to get her home."

"We'll be there in less than five minutes," Jesse assured him.

It took several seconds for that statement to penetrate, but when it did Matt looked up in total bewilderment.

"Wait a second. How do you know where it is?"

Jesse threw a quick look over his shoulder.

"From the coordinates you gave me."

Matt looked as if he had been zapped by one of Brennan's electrical arcs. "I didn't give you any coordinates." He paused, as if searching his memory. "Did I?"

"Of course you did," Jesse replied. Then his face took on a stunned look. Now that he thought about it, he didn't remember hearing Matt give him the coordinates, either vocally or inside his head. They were just …there. "Didn't you?"

Matt let his head fall back against the top of the seat. Perfect. He was so wasted he was transmitting without being aware of it. If there wasn't already enough paranoia about telepaths in the immediate vicinity before, this should juice it up nicely. What else had leaked out? The only bright spot, if there was one, was that it was Jesse that he transmitted to instead of Shalimar. The feral probably would have freaked out.

"The way my head is pounding, I wouldn't be at all surprised," he said finally with a resigned sigh, "I'm sorry."

"Forget it."

Lexa's panel warbled softly. Jesse cocked his head sideways.

"What?"

"We're being hailed." She started to toggle a switch, then arrested the movement as a different tone sounded. Her voice tightened. "Some sort of targeting system is locking onto us."

She flipped a switch. Immediately a male voice filled the small space, speaking in the somewhat stilted accent of one speaking a tongue not native to him.

"….peat, unidentified craft, you are approaching restricted airspace. Identify and state your intentions."

"I've got this," Matt said. He spoke a few terse sentences in a language that even Jesse, with his privileged background and cosmopolitan education, didn't recognize. The speaker responded in the same language, though his tone was softer and infinitely more respectful, even deferential. Lexa thought she could almost hear his heels clicking together, see him snapping to attention. The voice changed back to accented English.

"Sir, please continue on your present course. We are transmitting a landing beacon for you to follow, and have cleared the main pad. You may begin your descent, and welcome."

"Thank you."

Framed by the lowering sun, they rode pale streamers of pink, gold and orange toward one of the mountains framing the western edge of the city, over a pristine forest, across green meadows and a fair-sized lake. Not far from the lake was a cluster of buildings set around and behind a much larger one, a residence that could only be described as palatial. The thing was four stories of glass and accented red brick, rectangular in shape, with elegant porticos and a flat roof that held at least four armed sentries that Jesse could see. The mansion was wide enough to house a football field on each floor, and he'd bet heavily that there were underground levels as well.

The whole estate was huge, and it was obvious that there was a ton of money involved here. Jesse cut speed and dipped lower, passing over an Olympic-sized pool, marbled terraces, lavish gardens and a wide, perfectly manicured front lawn that sloped gently to a thick, encircling hedge hiding it from the street. To the side of the mansion was a concrete helipad marked with a bold red X. People were scurrying about like ants, swarming around the pad, but staying back. Quite a number of them were heavily armed military types, more than enough to make Lexa fidget nervously. For the first time Jesse realized that they knew very little about Matt. Who was he really? What was the source of his wealth, and why did he need what amounted to his own private army? Was this all just to protect his wife from people like Mason Eckhart?

As he approached the pad Jesse glanced around, taking note of a whole bunch of physical and electronic security features. He found himself getting a little nervous also. This place looked like it was guarded better than Fort Knox. On the other hand, who was he to judge? He and his friends lived inside a mountain full of high tech defenses for their own safety. All things considered, Jesse decided that Matt had earned the benefit of the doubt. He extended the landing gear and set the Helix down gently in the middle of the X. Lexa tapped the hatch release.

Aided by his telekinetic power, Matt got to his feet with Jaryl in his arms. Two men in white tunics and trousers bounded up the ramp towing a floating, padded litter. Two other people similarly attired waited at the bottom of the ramp. Matt gently laid her on the litter and spoke a few words to the attendants. They secured her on the litter with straps, then one of the men guided it down the ramp. The other medical people converged around it, quickly steering it toward the mansion and out of sight.

The remaining attendant hovering nearby, Matt turned back to the others. One hand clutched the back of the seat he had just left in support.

"I'd be glad to have you join us," he said, "We have an on-site medical staff, full spa facilities, and a host of other amenities. You all look like you could use some down time and TLC."

Shalimar stood and spoke for them all.

"No," she said softly, shaking her head, "Thank you, but no." She brought her hand up to lightly touch his other arm and squeezed gently. "You shouldn't have to worry about having us underfoot. Jaryl needs you." Sorrow and sadness filled her liquid brown eyes. "You two should be together now."

Matt nodded, grateful for her understanding.

"Thank you. Thank you all. We are in your debt." He turned, faltering as his knees buckled, grabbing the chair back once again to catch himself. Instantly the waiting attendant stepped smoothly to his side, laying Matt's other arm across his shoulders, and helped him carefully down the ramp. Lexa closed the hatch.

A moment later the Double Helix rose gracefully from her perch and sailed for home in silence.