3/9
A sharp cry echoed through the night, muffled voices in the hall. She held her breath, eyes wide as she stared up into the darkness, praying that the footsteps would continue past the door. He muscles tensed under the sheets as they stopped.
A faint arc of light fell across the bed where she lay and vanished again as the door clicked closed softly. Breathing echoed loudly in the dark room, and her heartbeat pounded in her ears, becoming a deafening rush. She closed her eyes, swallowing hard as outside, the sound of broken sobs echoed off concrete walls. She lay very still as the footsteps approached and she felt the sheets move. The room was black as pitch.
There was a gun under the pillow. She could feel it pressing into the back of her skull, aching to be used, if she'd only twist her arm around... But the grip on her shoulders was crushing, and she didn't dare move. There'd be bruises in the morning, she knew. She bit down hard on her lip to keep from making a sound. She could have blown his brains out, if only she'd move her arm, if only she could move past the pain. The sobbing outside abruptly stopped.
She seemed suddenly deaf and blind, as if the whole world had pulled away and left her in darkness, shaking. If only she could stop the shaking, she thought, she'd be okay.
"--wrong?" Sense returned abruptly, and her head jerked sideways at the noise. "Dom?"
Her eyes locked on his in the darkness, holding his gaze even as her head dropped to rest on the tops of her knees, arms wrapped tightly around herself. There was a kind of grim understanding on his face.
He reached out tentatively, unsure if she'd let him touch her. She flinched but didn't pull away, and he wrapped his arms around her as she buried her face in his shoulder. He could feel her shaking, almost silent sobs, desperate but tearless.
She stood unsteadily in the doorway, watching as they carried the body away, still-fresh blood dripping down a bare arm. She watched it fall in bright red drops on the concrete floor.
He'd always known, deep down, the things that had to have happened to her, but he'd been able to feign ignorance, fool himself because she'd coped so well, because of her lack of fear. He was living a nightmare all over again, watching in a different time and place as the same old evil reared its head.
"I'm sorry." Her voice still held on to a trace of its strength.
"Oath... never apologize." He tightened his arms around her. "Don't ever..." He heard her sigh, could feel her wrestling with her emotions, gathering up her strength and taking control.
"I was over it. Goddamnit... I was okay." She sounded tired and angry. "I don't know if I can forgive him for opening all of this up again..." She un-tensed, relaxing, probably, by sheer force of will, and looked up at him. "I'm not afraid of you," she said, giving voice to the fear that had been lurking unsaid. "You've never--we..." She laid her head back on his shoulder.
"It's okay." He rubbed her back soothingly. "We'll get this all figured out."
----
He was only mildly surprised to find Dom gone when he woke up. She'd probably already gone back to work in the computer room. Once she set her mind on something, it was hard to get her to back off again. He shook his head ruefully and got dressed, heading downstairs.
X-Force was assembled in the kitchen, in various stages of their morning meal. Theresa glanced up from the morning paper. "Morning, Cable." She reached over and took a bite of her English muffin.
"Morning," he mumbled in reply, making a beeline for the coffee maker.
"It's not polite to force him to make small talk before his third cup of coffee, Terry," Roberto joked, warding off Tabitha's attempt to steal the comics page from him.
"Funny," Cable replied dryly, sipping his coffee as he watched the ensuing wrestling match.
"Aw c'mon, Bobby. I just want to--"
"No way. I had it first."
"Domino's in the computer room," Jimmy commented as he deposited his cereal bowl in the sink. On his way past, he snagged the paper from his still bickering teammates.
"Hey!"
"Jimmy! No fair!"
Cable chuckled from behind the shield of his cup, and headed down the hall to find his partner. She was sitting in front of the bank of computers, feet up on the console, reading over a stack of papers. "Did you sleep at all last night?"
"Not really." She sipped her coffee. "G.W. got back to me, though." She cleared away more print-outs so he could sit down. "Gaines was working undercover in some Soviet test program codenamed Operation: Reachdeep. They were training first-generation mutants as covert operatives. They'd grab them as teenagers, take them in, look after them while they were being trained. For most of those kids, it was probably the best thing that'd ever happened to them." She pursed her lips. "It's like Xavier's, only without the altruistic goals to back it up. These people were trained specifically for a war that never happened. Even G.W. couldn't find what Gaines was doing there--probably gathering information so the US could strike back if necessary, but he bailed on the project after only two years. Came back to the states, resigned from the CIA, and dropped out of sight."
"What happened to the project?"
"Shut down when the Soviet Union dissolved and the Cold War ended, as far as I can tell. There aren't any official records of its existence, and it appears the Soviets never actually used the people they trained." Domino leaned back in her chair. "One question answered, ten more pop up in its place." She shook her head. "I suppose it was too much to hope for an easy solution."
"Probably." Cable leafed through some of the printouts. "Do you think Gaines is behind this, then?"
"I honestly have no idea," she replied. "These are just pieces of a larger puzzle, here. We need the big picture."
"You've got a suggestion?"
"Depends. How do you feel about a road trip?"
----
"Tonopah, Nevada. Lovely. I really had enough of the desert when we were at Camp Verde." Domino turned the car on to the main street, heading into town. "I suppose we should find someplace to stay, then hit the library."
"Going low tech?" He chuckled.
"This town was in the letter, with a year attached. The national searches came up empty, except for saying that it's an old mining town and the national parks are supposed to be nice. That means whatever this refers to, it's got to be something local. Libraries usually have local papers on microfiche going back a couple decades." She pulled off at a gas station. "Gonna find out what sort of lodging's around here." She unbuckled her seat belt and opened her door. "Be right back." He watched her walk inside and talk to the clerk behind the counter, then walk back out to the car with an information booklet. "Okay, let's see what we've got," she said, sitting back down. "OK corral Inn... um, no. Clown Motel..." she arched an eyebrow at the page. "Next to the Historic Miner's Cemetery. That's supposed to be a selling point?"
"I think I'll pass," he replied.
"Me too. There's a Best Western... I think that's gonna be the best option, unless you like Mom and Pop establishments."
"No, that sounds fine."
"Kay. Let me call ahead and make sure there's a room," she replied, digging around for her cell phone. "This being such hot tourist destination and all," she smirked, and dialed the hotel's number.
----
"Library's closed for the day." Domino said, flopping backwards on the bed. "Just as well. I don't think I'm up to sitting any more after all the driving we've done. Remind me again why we didn't just fly out here?"
"You didn't want to deal with the airport, he replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed and looking down at her intently.
She frowned slightly. "What?"
Nate shook his head. "Nothing." He brushed stray strands of hair from her forehead. "You're being very calm about all of this."
She stood up abruptly, shoving his hand away. "There's no point in getting worked up, is there? Not until I have hard facts."
"There's nothing wrong with feeling something... apprehension or--Bright Lady," he murmured under his breath with a sigh as she stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door. Deciding it was best not to pursue the matter, he left the room, wandering down to the lobby and then out of the hotel, walking the streets aimlessly without a direction in mind. This place held the promise of answers, answers to questions he found himself wishing had never been asked. Domino had fallen into a disturbingly familiar pattern over the last few days--quiet, close-mouthed about anything she might have been thinking, avoiding all discussion of the possible repercussions what they found here might have. She was hiding emotions from him and from herself, buried so deeply that all he got was a faint, disquieted stirring along the link. Her silence, he knew, was more dangerous than her anger could ever be.
He turned to walk back, feeling a faint trace of something sinister on the breeze as the sun slipped out of sight behind the San Antonio range, a chill running through him that had nothing to do with the cooling desert air.
It wasn't terribly late when he returned, but Dom was curled up in bed asleep, the air conditioner cranked to apparently accommodate the sweatshirt she'd chosen as sleepwear. It was his, though he'd long given up all hope of ever getting it back He moved around the room quietly, putting their luggage by the door, picking up the towel she'd let fall in a heap on the floor. He returned it to the rack in the bathroom, catching a glimpse in the full-length door mirror of two orange prescription bottles that sat innocuously on the counter.
He'd grown to hate the sight of them--a quiet, daily reminder that things weren't quite right, and might not be for a long whole yet. Dom hated the dependence. The antidepressant she took regularly--her fear of slipping again overcame her disdain for the thing--but she still played games with her insomnia. At some point, it had become about control to her. Somewhere in her mind, she regarded it a sign of weakness. The quirk wasn't a new one, he'd always had to coerce her into taking something, even when she'd had migraines bad enough to blind him. And to be reliant for something as simple as a decent night's sleep was a constant thorn in her side. Granted, his own views on the subject were probably a bit skewed--he figured as long as he could walk under his own power, he was basically fine. It was a conviction forged from the constant pain of the virus--it never went away, so there was no point in complaining. It'd become as normal as breathing to him, and if he could deal with that, any additional discomfort was negligible. Or so he liked to delude himself.
He ate dinner alone, then read the newspaper in the lobby so as not to disturb his partner, both because he knew she needed the sleep and because he didn't want to face her wrath if her woke her. He chuckled to himself, remembering what she'd done to X-Force the last time they'd been dumb enough bother her after a particularly long mission. Where as his form of retribution tended to be direct and to the point, Dom's was torturously subtle and prolonged. The kids had whined for weeks afterward, and Dom had walked around with a particularly smug grin plastered on her face. After that, they'd been careful to give her a wide berth when she was tired or otherwise annoyed. The eleven o'clock news droned on the television set as he finished reading, and headed back to their room. He showered and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, turning down the air-con before climbing into bed beside Dom. He slid his hand along the curve of her hip and she stirred, mumbling something incoherent in her sleep and shifting closer to him. He closed his eyes, breathing in the clean smell of her hair, her warmth radiating against him, sinking into his chest and uncurling with a languid calm, despite his worries of what tomorrow might reveal.
----
"She's not happy about this."
"I don't care what she thinks," he replied. "I've lost my wife and one daughter already. They can't take Nika as well. They've promised me..."
"It will be taken care of, Andrei. You have my word," Viktor replied. "I think we're ready to begin."
"She'll make sure she doesn't remember any of this?" He peered through the two-way glass, past the brunette telepath at the 12 year old restrained in a chair on the other end of the small room. "That was the deal. I'd bring her, but she wouldn't be allowed to remember."
#Damn you.# The woman on the other side of the glass glared at them with eyes full of hate, despite not being able to see them herself. #She's only a child!#
"There's no choice. She can't be allowed to know. If she did--"
#You couldn't lie to her.# The mental words were full of venom. #Can't let her know what a bastard you really are.#
"I was only following orders, Jacalyn, just like you will now."
#Monster.# Hatred dripped from the voice in his head. #You're no better than a common rapist. You're just using me as your weapon,# she seethed. He could feel her helpless anger, a futile rage she hadn't known since the day her powers had emerged, turning her from a mute, deaf, institutionalized teenager into something more. Something better, he thought. Her derisive laugh rang through his head, challenging the thought.
She turned away from the glass. #May God forgive us all.#
Jacalyn closed her eyes and focused on the girl in front of her. Supposedly, she was only to remove certain memories, but her skills were mediocre at best. It was like trying to perform brain surgery with a chainsaw. She steeled herself and continued, though she could feel the girl's agony with every sloppy swipe she took, making a mockery of the art until the 'walls' ran red with spattered blood. She leaned back in the chair and opened her eyes, wincing at the headache that was already forming. The girl was slumped in her chair unconscious, blood trickling from her nose.
Andrei Dashkov sat up at his desk and groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. That nightmare gave him no rest. That bitch had dumped it all on him afterwards, a crushing wave of thoughts and emotions, hers and his daughter's, all of it burned indelibly into his memory. #You've killed her now,# she'd accused. #Her blood is on your hands. I doubt she'll ever wake up, let alone become another soldier for the state.#
Command had felt the same. There was no room for an invalid in the program, send the girl away. Anywhere, it didn't matter. He'd told Viktor to make the arrangements. He hadn't wanted to know about it. "The beginning of the end," he murmured, and hit the intercom button.
"Sir." The voice on the other end responded crisply, efficiently. No tangled emotions here. Much simpler.
"Prepare an envoy. We're heading to base 81 in the morning."
"Sir?"
"I'm expecting some guests."
----
#Anything?#
'All I'm getting is eyestrain,' she joked weakly. 'You?'
#Nothing. I suppose it would have been too much work to be more specific?#
'Why be direct when you can be obtuse?'
#Was that a cheap shot?#
'My shots are never cheap.' Her 'voice' sounded vaguely insulted. 'I think giving specifics would have ruined the game.'
#Not sure I like the sound of that...#
'You don't think I'm being lead?' She leaned back in her seat, stretching before she started looking over the next pile of films. Two tables away, Nathan was still bent over his viewer. He looked up as he felt her attention shift to him.
#I didn't want to say anything,# he replied, #but it does seem that way.#
She sighed. 'I was sort of hoping I was imagining it.' She fed the next microfiche sheet into the machine.
#I know...# he trailed off, apparently distracted by something he was reading.
'Nate?'
#I think I just found something.#
----
"You okay?" It was a stupid question. In light of what they'd found, anyone would be upset, but he didn't like the shell-shocked expression on his partner's face. She sat on the edge of the hotel bed, still clutching copies of the news articles he'd found in one hand.
"I--" She ran her free hand back through her hair and closed her eyes. "I knew, I guess, that it wasn't likely to be pretty..."
"I guess it rules out Gaines as the letter writer."
"Being dead will do that, yeah." The joke fell flat. She looked again at the papers in her hand. "A hundred bucks bets you it wasn't robbery."
"Doesn't seem terribly likely, no. They both worked at the test site?"
"Yeah... good cover for an ex-CIA agent. Who the hell'd think to look for him at a military test site? You think the government covered it up?"
"Possibly. Dom, I--"
She sighed. "Nate, please don't. Don't tell me you sympathize, or whatever line it is you're thinking of laying on me. I don't even remember these people. Maybe I should feel something, knowing they died like this, but--" she shook her head.
"Do you have any idea what could have really gone on there? I don't know how much you remember..."
"There are these bits and pieces floating around, sort of jumbled and out of context. In my dreams sometimes... it's like I can see some things, but the reasons for them, the events they're a part of aren't there anymore. I can remember hiding someplace in the desert, thinking it was part of a game. But my sister was scared. I remember that fear."
"You remember her, then."
"My sister? Yeah." She drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around her legs. "I hated her. I can remember that. We moved around a lot, and I blamed her-- she must have been trying to protect us from whoever..." She trailed off. "I don't really want to talk about this."
"What happened?"
"She died," Domino replied simply. "I always felt it was my fault." She unfolded her legs and retreated to the far end of the bed, where she curled up, back towards him. He could feel her retreating mentally as well, virtual doors closing, pushing memories and emotions away.
"You said that in Madripoor, you hadn't remembered a thing."
"I didn't. It was like I woke up there. Total amnesia. The memories didn't come until later, after Logan got me out of there and I started getting over the trauma. I was real messed up for awhile." Her voice was laced with black humor. "Things started coming back in pieces--sights, sounds, something would trigger it, and there'd be a whole new piece to the puzzle. It's been years since anything new showed itself, though. And I still didn't know who I was. It was almost more cruel than remembering nothing at all." Her voice was choked. He got up and sat down next to her, hand resting on her shoulder. "It was like watching parts of someone else's life. Someone else, my body." A tear ran across her nose and down her cheek. "Until I read that news article today, I couldn't even be sure of my own damned name. I've seen my share of monsters, Nathan. But what kind of person does that to a child?"
----
She'd locked herself in the bathroom. He could hear her talking quietly on her cell phone--to who, he didn't know, though the list was fairly small. He didn't plan on asking, either, despite the vague feeling of jealousy he had at knowing she'd rather talk to someone else than let him in on what she was thinking. Their link had a hollow, subdued quality to it, and he found himself getting inexplicably frustrated over the whole thing. He wanted her to talk to him, to tell him *something,* even if it was to say she really didn't feel up to talking. It would have been reassuring just to hear her *say* something instead of facing him with a stony wall of silence. He wanted to see some emotion in her eyes, even if it was pain, just to have a sign that somewhere inside, Dom was still alive and kicking. It was irritating and, he admitted, hurtful, that she still didn't trust him enough to stop hiding behind all the little tricks she'd built up over the years.
It made him want to shout at her and point out how flonqing self-destructive she was still acting, despite all her convictions to do otherwise. And the anger made him feel guilty--yelling at her would be about as productive as screaming at a child that didn't know any better.
She finally emerged, face scrubbed red and eyes bleary. She all but ignored him as she walked over to the dresser, pulling on worn cotton pj pants and a shapeless tank top--a clear, non-verbal sign that she wanted no part of any sort of comforting he might offer. She climbed into bed, as far over on her side as was possible, and buried her head in the pillows. With a sigh, he went to get changed, switching off the light before laying down beside her.
In the darkness, the space between them was the yawning expanse of an ocean. Her shores were untouchable and shadowed, hidden from his understanding. Was he trying too hard? It didn't seem right to do nothing, as easy as it would have been. Inattentiveness was what had driven her off the last time; maybe he was being oversensitive because of it. But every time he'd almost convinced himself that it was true, that he was simply overreacting, he'd feel that dull ache leaking from her end of their link and his convictions would crumble like a sandcastle in the midst of a hurricane. He stared up at the ceiling, peering into the darkness with enough intensity to make spots dance before his eyes, and took a deep breath before reaching over and brushing his fingers along the length of Dom's arm.
"Nate..." She sounded irritated and tired, though she didn't push his hand away.
"I know you don't want to talk to me," he said. "But don't pretend I'm not here."
Her heard her sigh, and the blankets rustled as she turned. "I'm not... Look, it's not that I don't want you here, Nathan. I ...I'm glad you're here. I dunno if I'd be able to handle this alone. There's just some stuff that I don't really think you need to know. It's not spite, it's not that I don't trust you. But knowing wouldn't do any good. It'd just hurt you, and that's just about the last thing on Earth I'd want to do. Can we just drop it?"
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"No, of course you wouldn't," she muttered under her breath. "You're in a sharing kind of mood." She sat up abruptly. "What is it you want me to say?"
"Let me know what you're thinking, maybe?"
"I don't know!" She cried. "I don't know what I'm supposed to think. Christ, this isn't exactly something that pops up on an every day basis. Do you want me to pretend I'm okay with all this shit? I'm not, okay, Nate? It's got me really fucked up, to tell you the truth." She flopped back onto the bed. "I just wish--god. I wish I could make it just go away."
He sighed. "C'mere." He reached out for her, ignoring her half hearted attempts to fend him off until she finally settled in against his chest. "It's okay to be upset, you know."
"Yeah." She rested her head against his chest, giving in to the protective embrace. With his arms around her waist, she felt some degree of security, and, she grudgingly admitted, if it made him feel better, she could put up with it, even if she didn't feel much like 'cuddling' at the moment. She closed her eyes, inwardly steeling herself for the demons sleep would bring.