GabrielsDoubt – Thanks for reviewing again! I'm sure the next time God and Satan made a bet, Job just hoped they left him the heck out of it!! And yeah, this has been a roller coaster ride with some serious low points. But lets face it, how many of us go to Six Flags just to ride the merry-go-round and eat cotton candy?? ;-)
NachtcGleiskette – What's the word?? The word of the day is Vasopressin. Let's find out why its so important...
Littlelostsecret – Of course I left a cliff hanger! I wanted to make sure you had a good reason to come back. :-)
Kitty243 – Welcome! Thanks for reviewing! It keeps me encouraged that others are enjoying themselves as much as I am.
This was a pretty long chapter. Hope you enjoy!
Lumi slept fitfully, tossing and turning at the nightmares playing out in her mind. Finally, she bolted upright at the sound of her name.
"Lumi!"
The voice was loud and clear. At first, she hoped it was Jemaine calling her, but the house was dark and silent. She shivered as the temperature in the room dropped. Colder and colder the air turned until Lumi's breath was visible in curls of steam coming out of her wary mouth. She knew she was being summoned by a muló, a spirit, and it frightened the old seer. Sometimes spirits only wanted to communicate. But most often they were angry and took out their wrath on the living, especially those whose lives had been taken in violence. Still, the old woman got up and dressed in her worn robe. Slipping on a red and white shawl for protection in case the muló was angry, she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Quiet and dark, Lumi could hear that same voice calling to her from outside. Her heart pounding, she padded through the kitchen and out the mud room into the beautiful gardens that were sleeping beneath a bright, full moon.
"Lumi!"
She knew Rachel's spirit would still be close to them. Lumi shook her head sadly. Her life was taken so unexpectedly, the poor child might not even realize she was dead. So Lumi answered the spirit's call, to help her niece release her hold on this realm. Otherwise she could not rest and would certainly become a vengeful, angry muló and a danger to everyone she once loved. Creeping down the stone path, she turned a corner and gasped at the pale figure smiling at her.
"Rawnie." she whispered, her voice freezing in the warm air. Rawnie, her long dead younger sister. Rachel's mother. She stood tall with a never changing beauty. Her face was calm, but there was pain in her eyes.
"Rawnie" Lumi started again. She had been so sure it would be Rachel standing there. "Why have you come here? What do you want?" She demanded of her sister's ghost, pulling the shawl tighter around her small, whithered frame.
"Rachel." Rawnie's voice was all around the old gypsy. It seemed to flow up from the very earth and reach out like the branches of the dogwoods that twist and tangled towards her in the breeze.
Lumi shook her head. "Rachel is beyond my sight, Rawnie." Her eyes stung with tears of loss for her niece and for her sister. She bowed her head in grief.
Rawnie's voice took an air of authority. "No. She is hidden from your sight."
Lumi raised her head, her wizen eyes narrowed. She felt her heart skip a beat as Rawnie's image faded. For the first time in days, a tiny glimmer of hope lit within her.
Rachel smiled as her bare feet padded softly down the brick pathway toward the stately antebellum manor. The tall white columns were still cool against the morning sun as her hand touched them lovingly. Opening the front door, she wiped her feet on the prickly welcome mat and stepped inside. Everything was just as she remembered it. The tall ceilings, hardwood floors, and grand foyer gave homage to the plantation's rich history and welcomed her home.
Through the kitchen and out the mud room, Rachel stepped back into the sunlight and surveyed the manicured gardens. She inhaled the sweet scent of azaleas and dogwood blossoms, both heralds of spring. Rachel smiled again. The quiet of the garden was broken by the sound of a sweet voice.
"Momma?" She picked up her pace to seek out the source of the voice she loved so well from her childhood. As she turned the corner of the stone path, she gasped as she was greeted by an older version of herself. The woman's serene face broke into a great smile as she held out her arms to embrace her daughter. Rachel wrapped her arms around her mother and tears of joy built up in her closed eyes.
Suddenly, the young woman felt a stab of unbelievable pain in her chest. With a cry, Rachel fell to her knees. She felt herself being pulled away. She cried out again, trying to hold onto this paradise.
"Everything will be all right, little one." Her mother whispered gently and let her go.
Rachel screamed as she felt herself being dragged back down into Hell. She reached up for her mother, who could only stand and offer comfort.
"Everything will be all right."
All things around her dissolved into nothingness. Wailing in pain, Rachel spun and twisted in agony as she was pulled back down into darkness.
"We got a pulse!" The medic stepped back from his manual chest compressions while another anxiously peered at the readings. "Blood pressure is 70 over 40 and rising." A palpable relief filled the medical ward. "Vital signs on the fetus are returning to normal."
"4 minutes and 15 seconds. " Styker noted with pleased expression as he glanced at his watch. "With 45 seconds to spare." He stared at the comatose woman on the surgery table. "When she stabilizes, move her back to her cell." He chuckled as he walked out. "She's going to be having company." He turned back towards her for a moment. "And let me know when she wakes up. I have some questions that need answering."
"Kurt!" Jean called out, finally coming to a stop in the middle of a grove of oak trees. The huge timbers closed in around her, blocking out all be a few beams of the full moon that shined down. Turning around 360 degrees, she called again. "Kurt, where are you?" She looked in all directions - left, right, up, down.
"I'm here." the thick Germanic voice was quiet and dark. From the shadows, Jean could see his eyes glowing cold and forbidding. She could vaguely make out his shape against the dark. She couldn't help but shiver. It seemed that instead of being in shadow, he was shadow. It was as if the darkness was a part of him, emanating from him.
Jean reigned herself in. Taking a deep breath to calm herself she approached the demonic mutant. "Kurt, I need to scan you again. I need you to take me back to Alkali Lake."
With a scowl he retreated further into the dark until all Jean could see of him was his intense golden eyes. "No." he refused. That was, without doubt, the most horrific moment of his entire life. It was enough that he had to live with it, without having to live through it again. He was brought out of his sullen thoughts by the insistence of his unwanted company.
Making a urgent gesture, Jean pressed. "Please. It's important." She approached him, reached into the darkness and touched his forearm gently. "Trust me."
After a few uncertain moments, Kurt came forward, the blackness slipping away from him. "What more could there be to see there?" he questioned, bitterly. His tail whipped around him like an angry cat.
Jean smiled slightly. "Not see. Hear." She held her hands up and turned a questioning glance to the teleporter who sighed discontentedly and nodded. Settling her hands gently on him again, she carried them back to the cell where Rachel Wagner died.
Kurt looked around the tiny cage again, the only light coming through a grate in the ceiling. He stood next to Jean in the cell, looking at his beng likeness, crouched next to his lifeless, pregnant wife. He saw himself repositioning her head, as if trying, uselessly, to make her more comfortable. He stared at his own hands, remembering her scent and the feel of her long, soft hair.
Jean grabbed Kurt's hand and shook him back to her. She motioned to Stryker and his men. Stepping closer, she nudged at Kurt's memory, as a technician might fine tune a piece of equipment. Slowly, she helped Kurt bring the conversation out of the background and filtered through it.
"...Vasopressin is prepped..."
Vasopressin. With a triumphant smile, Jean turned to the German acrobat. That was all she needed. There was only one thing they could have intended to do. This time very gently, she disengaged them from the scene and once again they stood in the dark, quiet forest.
Kurt looked at Jean questioningly, his curiosity battling with his renewed grief. While connected with her, he could feel her excitement over what she had heard. It felt as though he should be excited too, but did know what had been so important. "Did you find out what you needed to know?" He fervently hoped that would be the last time he'd ever have to stand inside that small bleak catacomb.
Jean turned a cautious smile to him. "I think..." She stopped, then started again, feeling hope building up in her. "Stryker told his men to take-" It suddenly hit her that she didn't even know this woman's name. She pressed her lips into a thin line, her hands questioning Kurt.
"Rachel." Kurt's voice hurt at the sound of her name coming out of his mouth. "Her name was Rachel."
Jean laid a compassionate hand on his shoulder. "-take Rachel. That the vasopressin was prepped."
He knew she was building up some kind of hope for him, but he was still blind to it. "Vasopressin?" His tongue rolled around the unfamiliar word.
Jean explained. "Vasopressin is a peptide hormone. It's readily found in small amounts in humans and mutants alike. But, administered in sufficient quantities, it has shown some remarkable abilities to pull someone out of cardiac asystole."
The forest around them seemed to get even quieter as Kurt stared at her blankly, unsure if she was still even speaking English.
"I think their plans were to revive her, Kurt." Jean found herself holding her breath. "Or at least attempt it."
For an eternity, Kurt said nothing. He crouched back to the ground and stared intently at the gold band hidden in his fist. Jean knelt down beside him.
"Kurt?"
Turning a dazed expression toward her, he whispered. "She's alive?" His heart was starting to beat fast in his ears.
"I think it's possible." She answered cautiously. She didn't want to give him an unrealistic expectation. "You have to understand, the odds of someone surviving a full cardiac asystole is only about 20 percent at best." She warned.
Kurt pressed on, "But it is possible. Possible they are alive."
'beloved wife - loving mother'
"Yes." She nodded. "It is possible." Her work was rewarded with the first true smile she'd even seen on the furry mutant, making him look more like a fuzzy elf, than a menacing demon.
Kurt clutched Rachel's wedding ring close to his chest. "When do we leave?" His voice carried a renewed sense of purpose.
Jean met his smile with one of her own. "As soon as it's daylight." She answered as they both turned to the east, darkness beginning to dissipate as morning's light brought on a new day.
Some trivia -
beng is a Romani word. Loosely translated it means 'devil' or 'evil spirit'
Red and white are colors often associated with Gypsy death and funeral rituals. White is for purity and protection. Red is worn for luck and vitality. Some believe these colors help to ward off bengs and evil mulós.
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