Time of Troubles
by Timesprite
"Come here and hold this." Domino held out the makeshift antenna for the radio she was fiddling with. "Good. Now... move a little to the left..."
"So now I'm a flonqing antenna?"
"We wouldn't be in this situation if you'd had your harness on." She replied, listening to the headset as she turned dials on the radio itself, trying to get a signal. "But no, you had to smack your head on the dash when we landed."
"Crashed," he pointed out.
"Whatever," she waved him off. "Tell me, is there some rule that says 'In the event of a plane crash, the resident telepath is required to slam their head against the nearest hard surface, thus rendering their powers useless'?"
"Not my fault the damned thing wasn't big enough, and could you please not yell? I have a headache."
"Oh, poooor baby. You're lucky you're wounded, or I'd give you something to really whine about."
"You're the one who crashed the minijet."
"Excuse me for not noticing the damaged engine while I was running for my life, Mr. Let's set off the charges while we're still inside the compound!"
"That wasn't my fault either," he grumbled, still holding the antenna aloft. "I know I set the timer right."
"Right. At least we got the mission accomplished." She surveyed the wreck of the plane, which wasn't going to be moving any time soon and rubbed at her left shoulder, wincing. "And we can radio the kids for a pick-up, even if we'll never hear the end of it... what was that?"
"What was what?"
"Shhh..." She trained her eyes on the horizon. "Shit." She cursed in disgust. "Look," she pointed with her good arm. "Electrical storm. Which explains why this," she kicked the radio, "is giving me nothing but static. We'll have to wait it out."
"Where are you going?"
"Where does it look like? Far away from the human lightning rod,"
she smirked.
He glanced at the antenna he was still holding, scowled, and tossed
it to the ground, following her back to the plane.
----
"Damn. I hope that doesn't start a brush fire. We'd be sitting ducks." She looked out one of the windows in the jet at the light display outside, then hissed between her teeth as she bumped her arm against the wall.
"What's the matter with your shoulder?"
"Nothing. Bruised it in the crash or something."
"Right. Let me have a look."
"I told you it's fine!"
"Which is why you haven't used your left arm at all since you fell off that scaffolding. Is it dislocated?"
"I did not fall off. It was a... strategic maneuver."
"That's not what I asked."
"...maybe."
"Let me look at it."
She peeled down the top of her bodysuit carefully. "Y'know, I think this just an excuse for you to get my shirt off."
"Like I'd need an excuse," he replied, inspecting her arm.
"Fuck! Oh, damnit. That hurt, you bastard."
"Yep. You dislocated it."
"Next time, give me a warning before you go around popping my joints back into place, okay?"
"Would you have let me do it if I had?" He began bandaging her shoulder tightly.
"That's not the point," she scowled, pulling one of the emergency supply blankets around her. "How's your head?"
"Hurts," he replied.
"Not dizzy, are you? You attract concussions like honey does bees, y'know."
"I think I'm okay."
"Well, stay awake, just in case. I don't need you dying on me before I can properly kick your ass for this."
"How is this all my fault? Seems like bad luck to me."
She shot him a look. "Oh, no. Don't you even. This was your mission, therefore your fault, mister." She poked him in the chest with a finger.
"They were supposed to be apocalyptic cultists," he replied. "They weren't supposed to be that well armed."
"Well, they were. So because you screwed up, we got our asses kicked, stole a plane with a bum engine, and ended up in the middle of who the fuck knows where, during what has got to be the most weird ass storm I have ever seen. It's hailing out there now. Do you hear that?"
"Sorry, it's being drowned out by your bitching." He shot back, then sighed. "I'll make it up to you, okay Dom? I'll do your week's worth of kitchen detail if you want."
She arched an eyebrow. "That's a start, at least." She looked at him and frowned. "Are you sure you're feeling all right? You look a little..."
"I'll be okay," he murmured, leaning back against the bulkhead, eyes closed. "Your shouting didn't help my head any."
She got up and walked over to where he sat. "Sorry. I just- those were rookie mistakes we made back there, Nate. Stupid."
"Don't you think I-" He paused suddenly looking a little green. She crouched down next to him.
"Nate?"
"I'm okay." He took a deep breath. "I know we screwed up. Point is, we're okay, right? Mostly, anyway."
"Yeah." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "I would have been really pissed if you'd gotten yourself killed."
"Your concern is touching."
"I mean it," she said firmly. "And you're right. We're both relatively in one piece. That's what matters, right?" She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I don't suppose the kids'll get worried and come look for us."
"Might, had we told them where we were going."
"...this is on your head, Nate."
"Hrmph."
"Hey, don't you ignore me when I'm yelling at you, Mister. I'll have you know that the whole time I was working freelance, I never wound up in a situation like this. Are you sure you don't have the mutant ability to attract trouble wherever you go?"
"You get in plenty of trouble all by yourself."
"Oh?" She arched an eyebrow. "Name one time I got us into trouble."
"Gramsh."
"I can't believe you're still holding a grudge for that. Like I knew they understood English that well."
"We spent the entire night in a barn with goats," he replied. "Goats. It's fortunate they decided we weren't worth their effort."
"Now hold up a second. I seem to remember you weren't protesting too much back in that barn," she said, grinning wickedly at him.
"You pick the most bizarre times to get amorous, woman."
"Oh, like you don't enjoy it, you hypocritical bastard." She swatted at him in mock-indignation. "What about the time in Bolivia?"
"That was... interesting."
"Interesting." She snorted. "Is that all you have to say?"
"I don't like swimming."
She snickered. "Swimming? I don't remember much of that going on. You have to admit, after a week of hiking, the waterfall was... nice. Besides, I'm not the only instigator, buddy." She gave him a playful jab in the ribs. "Remember Biysk?"
"That was different. We were trying not to freeze."
"Oh, sure. Make excuses. You were just using me as a convenient source of warmth."
"Well, yeah, but you have to admit it was fun."
*whack*
"Ow. You don't have to hit me all the time."
"Yes I do. Otherwise, you'd never know better. You're like a dog, that
way. Oh, don't look at me like that. I mean it Nathan, get those
damned puppy eyes away from me. It's not cute. It's not." She scowled as
he took the opportunity to pout more. "I swear, that's got to be some sort
of self defense mechanism. I'd have shot you by now otherwise."
She rolled her eyes skyward as if looking
for divine inspiration. "I could be vacationing in Mexico right now," she
muttered. "I could be in charge of my own team. But no, for some
unfathomable reason, I chose to stay here with the tin man and his
squad of demolitionist rug rats." She gave him a sideways glance. "Why
do I put up with you anyway?"
"Remember Adrar?"
----
"What do you suppose they're doing in there?"
"Take a wild guess, Bobby."
"Oh, thank you Tabitha. I did not need that mental picture."
"Will you two hush?" Sam commented, scanning the horizon. "We can wait. Ah don't think there's anyone out here lookin' for us."
"*We* shouldn't be here, Sam. After all, they didn't actually tell us where they were going."
"Tab has a point," Jimmy commented from his seat on the ground. "They're going to ask how we knew where to look."
"I'm sure they'll understand once we explain."
"Sure, Terry. That, or they'll just kill us."
----
"Nathan."
"Hmph."
"Nate, get up." She elbowed the lump next to her in the ribs.
"What?"
"I heard something outside, and I've only got one good arm. That means you're nominated."
"Great." He sat up and looked around groggily, rubbing his head.
"Uniform," she said, pointing to the heap of clothes on the floor. "Unless you want to fight the bad guys in your birthday suit. And while I might not mind the view..."
"Funny," he grumbled, pulling on his clothes.
"Awww... is poor Nate all grouchy 'cause I interrupted his nap?" She quipped. "Which I shouldn't have really let you take anyway, y'know." She began pulling on her own uniform. "Do you think someone from the base caught up with us?"
"Doubt it. We blew it up pretty good."
"Well, that's an understatement." She pulled her gun from her holster. "How's your head, by the way?"
"Still hurts," he mumbled under his breath. "Let's just see what's out there."
----
"You did what?" Domino winced slightly as she watched Cannonball
shrink back from a rather irate looking Cable.
"Um, we put a tracker on your uniform? We thought maybe it'd be a good idea in case you an' Dom got into trouble, Sir."
Seeing the look on Nathan's face, Domino got up from her perch on a nearby boulder and stepped between him and Sam. "While this is all very entertaining, don't you think we could do this back home? After everyone's had a chance to cool down? Besides, some of us would very much like nothing better than to down some painkillers and catch some sleep." She eyed Cable. "C'mon Nate, we can kick their butts for trying to keep an eye on us old codgers later." She took his arm gently and started leading him towards the plane. "Remind me to make you wear a crash helmet the next time we're airborne. Mood swings are not becoming on you." She got him situated and headed back to where the rest of the team was waiting."
"Thanks, Ma'am. For steppin' in like that."
"Oh, I wouldn't be thanking me," she grinned at her charges. "I didn't want that big baby to hurt himself doing something stupid. I suspect he'll still want to kick your butts for this stunt once he's recovered." A collective groan went up from the group. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I'll try to convince him you were just looking out for our well being. He might not totally run you into the ground."
"Gee, thanks, Dom."
"Tabitha, how badly do you really want a 4:30 training session?"
"4:30?"
"AM."
"Um..."
"That's what I thought," she smirked. "C'mon, gang. Let's go home."
End