PART 8
3:30. The numbers hovered within the eerie green glow thrown by the digital display of the clock by her bed and, with an inward groan, Emma closed her eyes again as she tried to identify what it was that had disturbed her much needed rest.
Her head was still throbbing from trying to deal with the highly charged feelings that had been flying around her the past couple of days – the tension headache from hell, as she'd only half jokingly called it. But she'd hoped the worst was over and that she'd at least be able to get a few hours of uninterrupted peace while everyone else was asleep.
She wasn't too sure how she'd gotten through the hours after Jesse's distress call – she had no other words for it – had turned their plans upside down. The depth of pure despair in his cry had touched some primordial nerve in Shalimar that had kicked her feral responses into overdrive, taking her as close to sheer unthinking panic as Emma had ever seen her. The battering ram of her emotions had come close to demolishing the walls the psionic had hastily thrown back up after her partially successful attempt at reading Jesse, hitting them full-on as if trying to reach in and absorb the powerful but baffling sensations she'd picked up from him. Sensations that had her fearing for his safety – and perhaps his sanity.
And coming at her from the other side was the bundle of contradictions that was Brennan, a confused mixture of care and concern – and perhaps a little more? – for Shalimar, along with a degree of frustration at having to return home without having had a chance to see the face of the enemy. And perhaps, underlying his disquiet at Jesse's obvious anguish, just the hint of resentment that everyone else's – or maybe that was one person in particular? – reaction to it was so intense...
She hadn't been reading either of them – hadn't wanted to, but hadn't needed to either. In the cauldron the Double Helix had become on their return flight, there had been no escaping them.
Even back in the less claustrophobic environs of Sanctuary things hadn't improved. There she'd had to add Adam's guilt and relief at their arrival, as well as Connie's insecurity and fear, to the mix, not to mention the cause of the whole thing – Jesse himself. Not that he'd been contributing much by then. In his weakened and befuddled state Adam had been unable to rationalise with him enough to break his certainty in Shalimar's demise and had reluctantly been forced to sedate him, which had at least dulled the sharp edge of the waves of grief he'd been throwing off.
He'd seemed to know Shalimar was there, though, waking just long enough to assure himself of her continued existence in this reality before falling asleep again, her hand held tightly in his. And there she'd stayed through most of the following night, her own emotional roller coaster coming slowly but surely to a standstill as her uncertainty over his condition gave way to the knowledge that he was out of danger – at least from his physical injuries.
Despite Brennan's efforts to get them all re-focused on DeSalles, in his seeming need to find a role for himself within a situation that he patently felt somewhat excluded by, there'd been little enthusiasm for it from anyone else. Even Adam had seemed happy to let things ride for a while, at least until they'd straightened Jesse out – though that reasoning hadn't improved Brennan's disposition too much. His demeanour was further tested by Connie's renewed tendency to follow him around, though it had seemed to be more because the others were too pre-occupied with what was going on to have time for her or her personal worries for her friend, and she didn't want to be alone.
It wasn't that he didn't care, Emma knew that. It was more that, with his typically macho show of being averse to displays of sentimentality, he was finding it hard to deal with everyone else behaving in what to him seemed to be an irrational manner, instead of wanting to get out there and kick the butts of those responsible.
But she'd seen his expression when Shalimar had spurned his attempts to comfort her, choosing instead to berate him for not focusing on getting them home quicker, for his lack of comprehension for the younger man's situation, for not wanting to help him. It was just her feral passions yelling, albeit more intensely than usual, Emma was certain of that – she was naturally quick to anger but equally quick to cool off. But without Jesse there for her to bounce them off – Jesse who had always accepted, understood and forgiven without question – she'd lashed out indiscriminately. And unfortunately, Brennan had taken it more personally than he should have.
Later, Emma had tried to tell him that once Jesse was well, once they'd gotten through this whole nightmare thing, worked out what was happening and stopped it, things would get back to normal. He'd cut her off brusquely, though, pointing out that he wasn't Shalimar's keeper, and that whatever she felt she needed to do was fine by him. But he hadn't been able to hide the yearning look he'd sent in the direction of where the person in question was sitting with Jesse, before he'd turned back to the computer again and immersed himself in his chosen task of tracking down something more definitive to link DeSalles with the hit squads. As he'd been heard to say, they still had a job to do, a duty to other mutants who might still be at risk, and he wanted to be ready. He hadn't said 'when you all stop waiting for Jesse to give us the answers from his dreams', but his scepticism was obvious.
So far, though, Jesse had been unable - or unwilling - to tell them anything about his miraculous escape from the river's clutches, or to shed any light on any similarities between his original nightmare and what had actually happened. And when questioned on his more recent dreams, he became even more reticent, changing the subject or feigning sleep – not that he wasn't actually in need of plenty of it. The antibiotics were helping, but his lungs were still congested and the coughing that it caused was made even less pleasant by the heavy bruising he'd sustained while in the water. Regular sessions with the sonic regenerator had lessened the effects, but it was obvious to everyone that it was going to be some time before he was fully fit again.
There was no question in anyone's mind, though, that whatever he'd seen in his delirium, it involved Shalimar. But even with her he'd been less than forthcoming, seemingly happy just to have her there with him, chatting idly about inconsequentialities but never touching on the things that both of them probably really needed to say and hear.
Adam had let him out of med-bay that afternoon, deciding that the comfort of his own bed would speed his recovery, and he'd fallen asleep again almost immediately they'd helped him there. In fact, the prospect of an early night had seemed appealing to everyone after all that had been going on, and Emma had enjoyed an hour's tranquillity to meditate before turning in herself. But her hopes for further boosting her mental defences overnight while she slept seemed destined to failure.
She heard the faintest of sounds from outside and, deciding that was probably what had awoken her, she opened her shields just a little to check for anything amiss with her friends. But all she got back was the fuzziness of a mind only partially aware of its actions. And she knew who that had to be.
Pulling on a robe, she padded out into the corridor and turned towards the door at the end, a door she could now see was open. And standing just inside, staring intently up at the sleeping figure on the high, ledge-like bed, was Jesse.
Emma moved silently up beside him, wondering at the fact Shalimar's heightened senses hadn't woken her to his presence. But she knew she shouldn't underestimate the bond these two obviously shared, and which had probably simply ensured that the feral felt no threat from his being there.
Jesse didn't seem to be surprised at her arrival, acknowledging her with only a vague glance when she reached to touch his bare shoulder. He was cold, she found, hardly surprising given that Sanctuary's environmental systems tended to veer towards cooler temperatures at night and he was wearing only the sweatpants he normally slept in. She was alarmed at how lean he'd become, evidence of his recent distraction from his usual fitness routines, and even in the gloom she could see the stark reminders of his ordeal in the river in the dark marks standing out clearly against the pale skin of his arms and torso.
"Jesse?" she whispered, not wanting to disturb Shalimar – no point in everyone's sleep being disrupted, she thought ruefully. "You should be in bed." And, as if to illustrate her point, she felt him sway just a little, his frailty catching up with him.
"I... it came back," he said hoarsely, his eyes catching a stray wisp of light through the open door that turned them electric blue, face gaunt under the tousled hair and three day stubble. "I needed... needed to be sure... To see her... tell her..."
"Tell me what, Jess?" Shalimar's voice floated gently down to them, and they both looked up to see her leaning over the edge of her bed, gazing back.
He blinked at her, a hand lifting towards her then dropping back to his side again. "Just... just sleep well." He forced a small awkward smile and ducked his head as he turned away, clearly becoming more embarrassed by the moment at being found there, as his consciousness caught up with what his subconscious had driven him to do.
They all knew, though, that wasn't what he really wanted to say, and Shalimar seemed to realise that if she let him get away with it the words might never be spoken. She slid from her bed to stand in front of him, frowning as she saw the goose bumps rippling across his flesh.
"What are you trying to do?" she scolded softly. "Spoil all Adam's good work?" She reached to lift an afghan from the back of a chair and draped it round his shoulders before turning him towards the door. "We're going to get you back into bed, and then I think we need to talk..."
With a sigh Jesse allowed the two of them to take an arm each, secretly glad to have their assistance. He couldn't really say how he'd made it from his room to Shalimar's, only that he'd been compelled to try by something that transcended the physical constraints his body was putting on him. He was still frighteningly weak, as if having been spread so thin for so long in the water had stretched his strength to dispersion point as well, and it wasn't helped by the tightness in his chest that made breathing a real effort.
He was all but leaning on them for support by the time they'd reached his room, and it was with another sigh – of gratitude, this time – that he let them settle him into bed, closing his eyes as they fussed quietly around with the bedclothes. He hoped vaguely that they'd take the hint and leave him to sleep again, but he should have known better – Shalimar was nothing if not tenacious when she wanted something.
"So, Jess - what happened?" The open question hung in the air, begging interpretation, consideration, response, none of which he felt able to give it. He levered his eyelids apart, though, to see both women watching him – Shalimar from where she was curled at the end of his bed, and Emma more unobtrusively, perched cross-legged on the chest near the door. A knot started to form in his gut as he realised he wasn't going to be able to evade them this time, that regardless of his self-pledged belief that if he didn't talk about it he could pretend it had never happened, could stop it haunting his waking moments as well as his dreams, the others weren't prepared to allow him that luxury.
But he tried evasion anyway, as tenacious in his own way as his friend. "I guess I was kind of sleepwalking, there," he offered with a shrug and a half-grin. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake anyone."
Shalimar reached forward to swat at his leg, knowing full well what he was doing, but not prepared to let him. "No, not just now," she said, eyes seeking and holding his. "You know what I mean – what did you see in your nightmares? What happened in the river?" She paused, then softly added the question he really didn't want to hear. "What happened to me?"
He stared back at her, feeling the knot turn into a tangled mass as he tried to find a way to tell her what she needed without giving too much of himself, without giving credence to the nagging possibility that he couldn't permit himself to believe - that somehow he'd been foreseeing a flawed future, but one that was destined to be.
"It was just a dream," he managed, finally. "It didn't mean anything."
"Like the first nightmare didn't mean anything?" Emma put in, seeing the way that brought the shutters down on his expression.
"It didn't happen!" he responded, edgily. "It wasn't the same!" But when she didn't say anything more, just stared back at him levelly, he forced himself to relax a little, closing his eyes again as he leant back into the pillows.
"What do you want to hear?" he asked, with just a merest trace of bitterness even though he was fighting to keep his tone reasonable. "That I thought I was going to die? I did. That I was scared? I was – shit-scared. Never ever been that scared before. Never want to be that scared again. You never realise how much you take something for granted until it isn't there any more. And being able to breathe doesn't just keep me alive - it makes me who I am, let's me do what I do, control what makes me different. Without it, I'm just a bunch of molecules with nothing to keep them all together. And that's what I nearly became. Nothing." He stopped, desperately fighting the hot well of self-pitying tears that were trying to sneak past the barriers of his eyelids, and the catch in his throat that was threatening to turn into a full blown coughing fit any moment.
But after a slow calming breath, though, as deep as he could make it without starting off the niggling pain from his bruised ribs, he felt able to go on. He rubbed his hands down his face to disguise the need to wipe away the solitary tear that had escaped, finding a smile from somewhere as he raised his gaze to meet theirs again. "But hey," he said lightly, trying to find a way to lift their sombre moods, "that'll teach me not to learn to swim, right?"
Fatigue assailed him, flooding over and through him, and he prayed they wouldn't push for more, that they'd be satisfied with the glimpse he'd given them into his soul – at least, that part that was fit for public consumption. It was Emma, though, who seemed to realise his need, rising to her feet and coming over to rest a hand on Shalimar's shoulder. The blonde threw her a glance, eyes shining in a suspiciously liquid manner, and for a moment he thought she was going to persist. But she took the hint, shifting close enough to lay a hand against his cheek, forcing him to keep his drooping eyelids open long enough for her to say softly, "Well, you know, I'm not so keen on water myself, but I think we need to do something about that." She leant in to plant a kiss on his forehead, then with a final watery smile she was gone, Emma whispering, "Goodnight," as she followed.
Jesse stared sightlessly after them, trying to ignore the little voice that kept saying he should have told them everything, that the only way to keep her safe was to make her understand the dangers, stop her leaving the security of Sanctuary without proper protection. Without him
But it was all still too fresh, too raw, and besides, he was still clinging to his conviction that if he didn't talk about it, it couldn't possibly be true.
And as sleep washed over him, his final prayer was that the visions would see it the same way and simply cease to be.
****
3:30. The numbers hovered within the eerie green glow thrown by the digital display of the clock by her bed and, with an inward groan, Emma closed her eyes again as she tried to identify what it was that had disturbed her much needed rest.
Her head was still throbbing from trying to deal with the highly charged feelings that had been flying around her the past couple of days – the tension headache from hell, as she'd only half jokingly called it. But she'd hoped the worst was over and that she'd at least be able to get a few hours of uninterrupted peace while everyone else was asleep.
She wasn't too sure how she'd gotten through the hours after Jesse's distress call – she had no other words for it – had turned their plans upside down. The depth of pure despair in his cry had touched some primordial nerve in Shalimar that had kicked her feral responses into overdrive, taking her as close to sheer unthinking panic as Emma had ever seen her. The battering ram of her emotions had come close to demolishing the walls the psionic had hastily thrown back up after her partially successful attempt at reading Jesse, hitting them full-on as if trying to reach in and absorb the powerful but baffling sensations she'd picked up from him. Sensations that had her fearing for his safety – and perhaps his sanity.
And coming at her from the other side was the bundle of contradictions that was Brennan, a confused mixture of care and concern – and perhaps a little more? – for Shalimar, along with a degree of frustration at having to return home without having had a chance to see the face of the enemy. And perhaps, underlying his disquiet at Jesse's obvious anguish, just the hint of resentment that everyone else's – or maybe that was one person in particular? – reaction to it was so intense...
She hadn't been reading either of them – hadn't wanted to, but hadn't needed to either. In the cauldron the Double Helix had become on their return flight, there had been no escaping them.
Even back in the less claustrophobic environs of Sanctuary things hadn't improved. There she'd had to add Adam's guilt and relief at their arrival, as well as Connie's insecurity and fear, to the mix, not to mention the cause of the whole thing – Jesse himself. Not that he'd been contributing much by then. In his weakened and befuddled state Adam had been unable to rationalise with him enough to break his certainty in Shalimar's demise and had reluctantly been forced to sedate him, which had at least dulled the sharp edge of the waves of grief he'd been throwing off.
He'd seemed to know Shalimar was there, though, waking just long enough to assure himself of her continued existence in this reality before falling asleep again, her hand held tightly in his. And there she'd stayed through most of the following night, her own emotional roller coaster coming slowly but surely to a standstill as her uncertainty over his condition gave way to the knowledge that he was out of danger – at least from his physical injuries.
Despite Brennan's efforts to get them all re-focused on DeSalles, in his seeming need to find a role for himself within a situation that he patently felt somewhat excluded by, there'd been little enthusiasm for it from anyone else. Even Adam had seemed happy to let things ride for a while, at least until they'd straightened Jesse out – though that reasoning hadn't improved Brennan's disposition too much. His demeanour was further tested by Connie's renewed tendency to follow him around, though it had seemed to be more because the others were too pre-occupied with what was going on to have time for her or her personal worries for her friend, and she didn't want to be alone.
It wasn't that he didn't care, Emma knew that. It was more that, with his typically macho show of being averse to displays of sentimentality, he was finding it hard to deal with everyone else behaving in what to him seemed to be an irrational manner, instead of wanting to get out there and kick the butts of those responsible.
But she'd seen his expression when Shalimar had spurned his attempts to comfort her, choosing instead to berate him for not focusing on getting them home quicker, for his lack of comprehension for the younger man's situation, for not wanting to help him. It was just her feral passions yelling, albeit more intensely than usual, Emma was certain of that – she was naturally quick to anger but equally quick to cool off. But without Jesse there for her to bounce them off – Jesse who had always accepted, understood and forgiven without question – she'd lashed out indiscriminately. And unfortunately, Brennan had taken it more personally than he should have.
Later, Emma had tried to tell him that once Jesse was well, once they'd gotten through this whole nightmare thing, worked out what was happening and stopped it, things would get back to normal. He'd cut her off brusquely, though, pointing out that he wasn't Shalimar's keeper, and that whatever she felt she needed to do was fine by him. But he hadn't been able to hide the yearning look he'd sent in the direction of where the person in question was sitting with Jesse, before he'd turned back to the computer again and immersed himself in his chosen task of tracking down something more definitive to link DeSalles with the hit squads. As he'd been heard to say, they still had a job to do, a duty to other mutants who might still be at risk, and he wanted to be ready. He hadn't said 'when you all stop waiting for Jesse to give us the answers from his dreams', but his scepticism was obvious.
So far, though, Jesse had been unable - or unwilling - to tell them anything about his miraculous escape from the river's clutches, or to shed any light on any similarities between his original nightmare and what had actually happened. And when questioned on his more recent dreams, he became even more reticent, changing the subject or feigning sleep – not that he wasn't actually in need of plenty of it. The antibiotics were helping, but his lungs were still congested and the coughing that it caused was made even less pleasant by the heavy bruising he'd sustained while in the water. Regular sessions with the sonic regenerator had lessened the effects, but it was obvious to everyone that it was going to be some time before he was fully fit again.
There was no question in anyone's mind, though, that whatever he'd seen in his delirium, it involved Shalimar. But even with her he'd been less than forthcoming, seemingly happy just to have her there with him, chatting idly about inconsequentialities but never touching on the things that both of them probably really needed to say and hear.
Adam had let him out of med-bay that afternoon, deciding that the comfort of his own bed would speed his recovery, and he'd fallen asleep again almost immediately they'd helped him there. In fact, the prospect of an early night had seemed appealing to everyone after all that had been going on, and Emma had enjoyed an hour's tranquillity to meditate before turning in herself. But her hopes for further boosting her mental defences overnight while she slept seemed destined to failure.
She heard the faintest of sounds from outside and, deciding that was probably what had awoken her, she opened her shields just a little to check for anything amiss with her friends. But all she got back was the fuzziness of a mind only partially aware of its actions. And she knew who that had to be.
Pulling on a robe, she padded out into the corridor and turned towards the door at the end, a door she could now see was open. And standing just inside, staring intently up at the sleeping figure on the high, ledge-like bed, was Jesse.
Emma moved silently up beside him, wondering at the fact Shalimar's heightened senses hadn't woken her to his presence. But she knew she shouldn't underestimate the bond these two obviously shared, and which had probably simply ensured that the feral felt no threat from his being there.
Jesse didn't seem to be surprised at her arrival, acknowledging her with only a vague glance when she reached to touch his bare shoulder. He was cold, she found, hardly surprising given that Sanctuary's environmental systems tended to veer towards cooler temperatures at night and he was wearing only the sweatpants he normally slept in. She was alarmed at how lean he'd become, evidence of his recent distraction from his usual fitness routines, and even in the gloom she could see the stark reminders of his ordeal in the river in the dark marks standing out clearly against the pale skin of his arms and torso.
"Jesse?" she whispered, not wanting to disturb Shalimar – no point in everyone's sleep being disrupted, she thought ruefully. "You should be in bed." And, as if to illustrate her point, she felt him sway just a little, his frailty catching up with him.
"I... it came back," he said hoarsely, his eyes catching a stray wisp of light through the open door that turned them electric blue, face gaunt under the tousled hair and three day stubble. "I needed... needed to be sure... To see her... tell her..."
"Tell me what, Jess?" Shalimar's voice floated gently down to them, and they both looked up to see her leaning over the edge of her bed, gazing back.
He blinked at her, a hand lifting towards her then dropping back to his side again. "Just... just sleep well." He forced a small awkward smile and ducked his head as he turned away, clearly becoming more embarrassed by the moment at being found there, as his consciousness caught up with what his subconscious had driven him to do.
They all knew, though, that wasn't what he really wanted to say, and Shalimar seemed to realise that if she let him get away with it the words might never be spoken. She slid from her bed to stand in front of him, frowning as she saw the goose bumps rippling across his flesh.
"What are you trying to do?" she scolded softly. "Spoil all Adam's good work?" She reached to lift an afghan from the back of a chair and draped it round his shoulders before turning him towards the door. "We're going to get you back into bed, and then I think we need to talk..."
With a sigh Jesse allowed the two of them to take an arm each, secretly glad to have their assistance. He couldn't really say how he'd made it from his room to Shalimar's, only that he'd been compelled to try by something that transcended the physical constraints his body was putting on him. He was still frighteningly weak, as if having been spread so thin for so long in the water had stretched his strength to dispersion point as well, and it wasn't helped by the tightness in his chest that made breathing a real effort.
He was all but leaning on them for support by the time they'd reached his room, and it was with another sigh – of gratitude, this time – that he let them settle him into bed, closing his eyes as they fussed quietly around with the bedclothes. He hoped vaguely that they'd take the hint and leave him to sleep again, but he should have known better – Shalimar was nothing if not tenacious when she wanted something.
"So, Jess - what happened?" The open question hung in the air, begging interpretation, consideration, response, none of which he felt able to give it. He levered his eyelids apart, though, to see both women watching him – Shalimar from where she was curled at the end of his bed, and Emma more unobtrusively, perched cross-legged on the chest near the door. A knot started to form in his gut as he realised he wasn't going to be able to evade them this time, that regardless of his self-pledged belief that if he didn't talk about it he could pretend it had never happened, could stop it haunting his waking moments as well as his dreams, the others weren't prepared to allow him that luxury.
But he tried evasion anyway, as tenacious in his own way as his friend. "I guess I was kind of sleepwalking, there," he offered with a shrug and a half-grin. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake anyone."
Shalimar reached forward to swat at his leg, knowing full well what he was doing, but not prepared to let him. "No, not just now," she said, eyes seeking and holding his. "You know what I mean – what did you see in your nightmares? What happened in the river?" She paused, then softly added the question he really didn't want to hear. "What happened to me?"
He stared back at her, feeling the knot turn into a tangled mass as he tried to find a way to tell her what she needed without giving too much of himself, without giving credence to the nagging possibility that he couldn't permit himself to believe - that somehow he'd been foreseeing a flawed future, but one that was destined to be.
"It was just a dream," he managed, finally. "It didn't mean anything."
"Like the first nightmare didn't mean anything?" Emma put in, seeing the way that brought the shutters down on his expression.
"It didn't happen!" he responded, edgily. "It wasn't the same!" But when she didn't say anything more, just stared back at him levelly, he forced himself to relax a little, closing his eyes again as he leant back into the pillows.
"What do you want to hear?" he asked, with just a merest trace of bitterness even though he was fighting to keep his tone reasonable. "That I thought I was going to die? I did. That I was scared? I was – shit-scared. Never ever been that scared before. Never want to be that scared again. You never realise how much you take something for granted until it isn't there any more. And being able to breathe doesn't just keep me alive - it makes me who I am, let's me do what I do, control what makes me different. Without it, I'm just a bunch of molecules with nothing to keep them all together. And that's what I nearly became. Nothing." He stopped, desperately fighting the hot well of self-pitying tears that were trying to sneak past the barriers of his eyelids, and the catch in his throat that was threatening to turn into a full blown coughing fit any moment.
But after a slow calming breath, though, as deep as he could make it without starting off the niggling pain from his bruised ribs, he felt able to go on. He rubbed his hands down his face to disguise the need to wipe away the solitary tear that had escaped, finding a smile from somewhere as he raised his gaze to meet theirs again. "But hey," he said lightly, trying to find a way to lift their sombre moods, "that'll teach me not to learn to swim, right?"
Fatigue assailed him, flooding over and through him, and he prayed they wouldn't push for more, that they'd be satisfied with the glimpse he'd given them into his soul – at least, that part that was fit for public consumption. It was Emma, though, who seemed to realise his need, rising to her feet and coming over to rest a hand on Shalimar's shoulder. The blonde threw her a glance, eyes shining in a suspiciously liquid manner, and for a moment he thought she was going to persist. But she took the hint, shifting close enough to lay a hand against his cheek, forcing him to keep his drooping eyelids open long enough for her to say softly, "Well, you know, I'm not so keen on water myself, but I think we need to do something about that." She leant in to plant a kiss on his forehead, then with a final watery smile she was gone, Emma whispering, "Goodnight," as she followed.
Jesse stared sightlessly after them, trying to ignore the little voice that kept saying he should have told them everything, that the only way to keep her safe was to make her understand the dangers, stop her leaving the security of Sanctuary without proper protection. Without him
But it was all still too fresh, too raw, and besides, he was still clinging to his conviction that if he didn't talk about it, it couldn't possibly be true.
And as sleep washed over him, his final prayer was that the visions would see it the same way and simply cease to be.
****