Part 15
They came for her just before sunset, dragging her kicking and yelling obscenities across the killing field still stained with the blood of those who had gone before.
She'd known that chances were she'd be next, and she could only be strangely thankful that she hadn't been forced to watch her friends die. Of course, that meant – if she couldn't find a way to free herself from this increasingly desperate situation – they'd have to watch her demise, and that as much as anything drove her to keep fighting.
In some ways she was still numb from the horror of the 'show' that had been put on for the benefit of the man she'd recognised as Warren DeSalles, a show in which he'd presided as judge and jury. In a grating monotone, he'd read the so-called 'crimes against humanity' that the defendant – a young man barely out of his teens - had purportedly committed by dint of his mutancy, and then calmly sentenced him to death.
Her attempts to drag her hands free of the cuffs had rubbed her wrists raw, but even the red slickness of the blood couldn't ease the passage of bone through the constricting bands of steel, and thankfully her animal instincts stopped short of driving her to consider more drastic measures. So no matter how much she wanted to get to him, help him, save him, regardless of the many armed men standing around who would certainly have stopped her, she'd been unable to do anything other than spectate.
The execution had been violent and shocking, played out to the background accompaniment of Brennan's bull-like raging and battering that told her he'd been given a front row view as well. Apart from the sheer brutality of the whole thing, it had been the faces of those taking part that had appalled her, some showing quiet detachment while others had clearly relished the act of using the rocks littering the ground to stone the poor victim to an unrecognisably bloody pulp.
Then they'd all gone away again for a while, leaving her to dwell on what she'd seen in the sure knowledge that a similar fate awaited Brennan and herself unless some miracle happened.
It almost had.
She'd caught a flash of movement on top of the tree-lined bluff curving round the far side of the field just after the last of the enemy had disappeared and, without quite knowing how she'd known it was Jesse. Her heart had swelled with pride and love that he'd come to help them, although at the same time her stomach had been fluttering with anxiety for him, given his undeniable lack of fitness. And while she'd waited breathlessly for his next move, she'd prayed that he could stay undetected long enough to reach them.
Her prayers had gone unanswered, though; she'd seen the dark figures materialise as if by magic around him, watched him fend off the first few, waiting in vain for him to use his powers to fell the others or slip out of their reach. But unaccountably it hadn't happened and he'd succumbed quickly, going down under their combined weight.
She'd wanted so badly to call out to him as they'd dragged his battered form down to one of the empty 'coops' somewhere off to her left, to let him know she was there, give him what moral support she could. But she'd held back, not wanting to hand them anything more to use against him than they already had.
There'd been plenty of time to try not to think about what he might be suffering at their hands, but it had been too quickly interrupted by another demonstration of the sadistic inhumanity these people were capable of. This time it was a girl, another innocent tried and condemned for the accident of her birth, her life snuffed out at the whim of a madman despite her tearful pleas for mercy. Shalimar had added her voice, her furious verbal assault on the whole bunch of them going totally ignored as they'd slipped the knotted rope round the girl's neck and slowly garrotted her, terrified eyes bulging and limbs jerking uncontrollably until finally and irrevocably stilled by death.
The door to her little world had been slammed shut for a while after that. But after a too brief respite, it was her turn.
She didn't make it easy for them, though, throwing her full weight into her struggles to break free of the apes practically carrying her, screaming her defiance all the way to the point where they dropped her to her feet and slammed her head back against the unforgiving solidity of what proved to be a wooden post, dazing her enough to allow them to chain her up again.
By the time she recovered her senses, shaking her hair back off her face, she was alone in the gathering gloom. But that gave her no comfort at all as she finally realised just exactly what they had in store for her.
*
Still reeling from what he'd witnessed, Brennan swallowed in an attempt to ease a throat made dry and sore by his relentless need to verbally vent his outrage and revulsion. The rest of him was pretty sore too, a combination of his earlier treatment and what he'd put himself through trying to batter a way out of his prison, and even though he was currently hidden from external view by the door that had again closed in front of him, he knew he needed at least a short breather before he tried anything more. There was a panel at the back of the box that might be worth...
But all that was forgotten in a heartbeat when a new sound split the falling dusk – a sound he had no problem in identifying as Shalimar. He scrambled to his feet as the door jerked open on its remote-controlled latch and his eyes were drawn automatically to the bucking heaving figure being manhandled towards... oh God, no, not that! His pulse pounded in his ears and his guts churned in despair as he roared out his rage and anguish, bunching his muscles in his increasingly violent efforts to free himself.
But even the knowledge of what was at stake – literally! - couldn't give him the edge he needed, though he could feel the structure trembling around him under his assault. Only his powers could do that and they were frustratingly still unavailable to him.
Into a brief moment of silence, though, came a breathy whisper that only barely percolated through the blood rushing in his ears, and it took him a moment longer to understand that someone was calling his name.
"Brennan? Is that you? Oh, please God, let it be you..."
The sound was coming from behind him, he realised, and when he looked round he could see movement through the shattered remnants of the wooden slat a few feet off the ground that he'd apparently managed to take out with one of his random frenzied kicks. As he watched he saw fingers hook round the pieces and tug them outwards, making a space big enough for whoever it was to look through, and with a jolt he recognised the wide-eyed, tear-stained face peering up at him.
"Oh, thank God, Brennan..."
"Connie? What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded incredulously, casting a wary eye outside and biting back a curse at the sight of the torch lit procession moving into view round the bluff. Shalimar's yells of defiance were taking on a note of desperation that tore at his heart and, if he could have ripped his arms from their sockets to get to her, at that moment he probably would have done it. But Connie was speaking again, and he shook his attention back to what could now be their last hope.
"I don't know... I shouldn't be here... I should have stayed on the plane like Adam told me, then I'd be back at Sanctuary by now, safe! But oh, no, I had to know better. Why do I do these things to myself? I only wanted to see if I could help Jesse or keep tabs on him so they'll know where to find him when they get here but they're *killing* people and they'll kill me if they find me and oh God..." Her hysteria-laden voice had been rising in both pitch and volume as she babbled and Brennan had to say her name several times before she heard him and stopped.
"Connie, calm down! When who get here?" The procession was getting closer to their goal, and the only good thing he could take from that was the hope the torches would have to spoil their night sight enough that what was happening way over here would be less noticeable. "Wait a minute... Jesse's here?" The smallest beginnings of an idea were starting to form in his mind, born out of the urgency of their situation.
She blinked at him from the shadows. "Yes, he came to find you, but they caught him too. I didn't know you'd be all chained up like this – I should have brought something... maybe I should go and fetch..."
"No, listen to me, Connie. We don't have much time and I need you to concentrate." He crouched down so he could look her in the eyes, wasting precious seconds to be sure she was focused on him. "Remember what I showed you when we had that talk back in Sanctuary? That first step to making a spark? I need you to do that now."
"Oh God, no, I can't, I don't know how!" The panic was clear in her voice and the way her hands flapped distractedly around her face and hair.
Despite the overwhelming feeling that time was running out for them all, he tried to project as much calmness and confidence as he could, wishing distantly that Emma were here to do her thing. "Yes, you can. You have to." He twisted round so she could see the device on the back of the band round his throat. "Just point at the disc at the back of this collar, then do like I told you. Look inside for your power – you'll find it. You just have to believe."
"OhGodohGodohGodohGod..." but he felt her cold trembling hand reach through the gap to touch the back of his neck briefly before it pulled away.
He could see the procession had almost reached the place of execution, but it was all he could do to prevent himself shouting at her to hurry, knowing that wasn't going to help. He was searching for some encouragement he could offer instead when a familiar sound raised the hairs on his neck and arms and an energy bolt hit him hard enough to rattle his brain and send all his muscles into spasm. Through the static filling his head he heard the girl whimpering in alarm, "Oh my God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... Don't be dead, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry..." and he unclenched his teeth enough to reassure her he was alright, that she'd done well.
And indeed, when he went in search of his own powers he found them released and ready to go. With grim satisfaction, he produced more minor sparks of his own, wincing at the slight discharge from the electronic locks on his cuffs as they shorted and sprang open, at the same time saying firmly, "Connie, I need you to go find Jesse, free him like you did me, OK? And hurry – he may be the only one who can help her now." Because out across the field, at a command from their leader, the torchbearers were already moving to encircle what would soon be Shalimar's funeral pyre, and Brennan had no illusions that he'd be able to take on this private army alone and win.
He only knew he'd go down trying.
*
Sunset... and it was happening just as he'd known it would. He could hear her crying out, no matter how hard he tried to block the sound, could feel it piercing his soul. Could see the growing light from the flames being carried towards her even through the eyelids he kept screwed resolutely closed so he wouldn't have to watch her die, and he moaned his despair at what was to be.
He knew he should be struggling, fighting, working to get free so he could save her – or if not, at least be with her at the end. That was what he'd seen happening, after all, lived with through the past few days of hell. But the burden of his failure was so heavy, so all-embracing, that he could barely find it within himself to raise his head. Even the sharp true pain of abused muscles, torn skin and raw flesh couldn't compete, couldn't cut through the inertia that seemed to ensnare him as he heard the charges read, sentence passed.
Something did, though. A riffle of movement disturbing the air around him, a whispered warning, a hand that ghosted over the sweat-sheened skin of his neck, and with extreme effort he cranked his eyes open just in time to catch the look of concentration on Connie's face as she unleashed a burst of energy that rocketed through him like wildfire. Taken totally by surprise, he jerked back against his bonds at the tremors that tied his thought processes into knots, along with what felt like every other part of him, hitting his head with a force that threatened a total shutdown.
"Jesse? Jesse! No, don't do this. Come on, Jesse. Please try!" Familiar words, words that had drawn him out of the nightmare the last time, though spoken with a different tongue. And he latched on, letting them pull him up again, realising as he did so that something had changed. Almost without thinking he let his breath out and held it, the clank as the cuffs dropped away from suddenly intangible wrists and ankles coming as music to his ears. Inhaling quickly before his lungs could start in again with their complaints, he turned bewildered eyes to the pale blur looking up at him, questioning, "What...? How did...?"
"Quickly! Brennan said you had to help her!" Small hands pushed him towards the door, and he finally saw for real the scene he'd been carrying in his head. But there were subtle differences, and he understood that this time he'd been given a chance at redemption.
The world outside his box was one of chaos, the hot orange glow of the newly released flames throwing the surrounding area into a comparative darkness that was split at irregular intervals by the electric blue discharge of Brennan's sniping attacks on the dark figures milling in organised confusion around the fire. Muzzle-flashes added their own counterpoint, the accompanying whine of bullets contributing to the cacophony of sound that could still do nothing to hide from him the increasingly frightened cries that instantly became his sole focus.
Putting his head down, he sprinted across the open space in complete disregard of those who would stop him, intent on getting to her before the fledgling blaze could take hold. He was peripherally aware of men looming out of the dark to intercept him, but they seemed to spin away before they could reach him, taken out by the blue lightning and... pink blasts?... Emma?... But there was no time to question because he was there and... 'Hold on, Shal, I'm coming!'
A curtain of fire leapt up in front of him, hiding her from his view. But he knew she was there, could still hear the evidence of her fear, see her in his mind's eye. So he exhaled and phased his way in, feeling the heat searing at his molecules as if in ill-tempered reprisal for its inability to physically touch him. The knifing pain came back, stabbing up under his ribs and adding to the normal toll this particular manifestation of his powers exacted from him, conspiring with lungs that seemed to have only half their normal capacity to force him to breathe in immediately, but he couldn't pander to his body's shortcomings right now and pushed it all ruthlessly away.
Reaching the still calm eye of the growing inferno, he solidified and conjured up a smile of reassurance for the woman who was already succumbing to the primal responses of her feral DNA as he massed a fist to hammer the chains binding her into so much scrap metal. Her eyes were glazing over with panic and he had to grasp her arms with more force than he wanted, shaking her until he was sure she was listening to his necessarily terse commands. He'd already identified the only way out, having fleetingly considered then discarded the too frightening idea of making his first attempt at directly phasing another person along with himself; even the urgency of this situation couldn't make him dare running the risk of losing control of himself and, in the process, losing her. Not that the alternatives were any easier, and he knew what it was going to take for them both to survive this, just hoping he had it within himself to do it. But he needed her at least composed enough to do as he asked.
He pulled off his ripped T-shirt to give her some added protection from the hungry tongues of fire that immediately reached out to stroke the naked skin of his back, and the smoke that caught in his lungs in a way that he knew meant another coughing fit was just around the corner. Not yet, he prayed, please, gesturing to her to cover her face as he turned towards the one partial gap in the encroaching circle of flames, the place where he'd seen one of the torch-carrying men felled before he could complete his task.
Taking a deep breath he massed out, searching for the perfect balance of density that would allow him to withstand direct contact with the fire yet still retain enough mobility to clear a path wide enough for her to follow without danger. He felt without really feeling the feral pressing her face into his back, trembling with fear as he kicked and pushed the burning bundles away, using his added weight to send them flying off into the night. It was costly, though – the constant struggle to maintain his mass at just the right level sapped his already weakened mental reserves, and the physical strain of moving at sufficient density to avoid damage was immense, tearing at muscles and tendons. Too soon, he reached the point where he knew he was going to have to take a breath. But from somewhere within him he felt something egging him on, supporting, encouraging, and he drew enough strength from it to continue.
The final barrier surrendered to his foot, and the heated roar of the flames gave way to voices – familiar voices, Brennan, Adam?... shouting his name, calling him forward. But almost before he'd managed to drag in sufficient hot, smoke-filled but nonetheless delicious air to replace the oxygen-depleted supply gushing out of him, he was turning back towards Shalimar, his heart sinking to see her still standing, mesmerised and trembling, at the wrong end of the swathe he'd cut through the fire.
Oblivious to the sparks stinging at his arms and torso, and the skin blistering beneath smouldering fabric where the fire had taken advantage of his momentary lapses in density control, he started to go to her, to bring her to safety. But the pressure that had been building in his chest with nowhere to go suddenly exploded into paroxysms of agonising coughing that drove him to one knee, his inner self railing against fates that would allow him so close to saving her only to snatch her from his grasp in the end.
Even as he watched through streaming eyes, though, he saw the huge bulk of Brennan race by him through the gap to sweep the woman into his arms and bundle her towards him and out of danger, his, "Let's go, Jess," floating back to him as he sped past.
He tried to follow, but he had nothing left to give, exhaustion and pain wrapping themselves around him, dragging him back to his knees and sending him toppling forward to sprawl in the dirt. Up ahead he saw the elemental pause, eyes flicking from him to the blonde head resting against his shoulder and back, obviously torn between them. Jesse heard the bullets screaming through the air above him, though, the yells, the thud of running feet and raised his head long enough to call, "Go! Get her out of here!"
Above him, the sky was suddenly rent by fingers of light stabbing through the night on a crescendo of sound that drowned out everything else, and a breeze kicked up as if from nowhere to send the dust whirling into eddies.
He managed to keep the encroaching blackness at bay until he saw Brennan nod once and turn away to be swallowed up by the shadows, then with a sigh he let himself spiral off into its welcoming arms.
****
They came for her just before sunset, dragging her kicking and yelling obscenities across the killing field still stained with the blood of those who had gone before.
She'd known that chances were she'd be next, and she could only be strangely thankful that she hadn't been forced to watch her friends die. Of course, that meant – if she couldn't find a way to free herself from this increasingly desperate situation – they'd have to watch her demise, and that as much as anything drove her to keep fighting.
In some ways she was still numb from the horror of the 'show' that had been put on for the benefit of the man she'd recognised as Warren DeSalles, a show in which he'd presided as judge and jury. In a grating monotone, he'd read the so-called 'crimes against humanity' that the defendant – a young man barely out of his teens - had purportedly committed by dint of his mutancy, and then calmly sentenced him to death.
Her attempts to drag her hands free of the cuffs had rubbed her wrists raw, but even the red slickness of the blood couldn't ease the passage of bone through the constricting bands of steel, and thankfully her animal instincts stopped short of driving her to consider more drastic measures. So no matter how much she wanted to get to him, help him, save him, regardless of the many armed men standing around who would certainly have stopped her, she'd been unable to do anything other than spectate.
The execution had been violent and shocking, played out to the background accompaniment of Brennan's bull-like raging and battering that told her he'd been given a front row view as well. Apart from the sheer brutality of the whole thing, it had been the faces of those taking part that had appalled her, some showing quiet detachment while others had clearly relished the act of using the rocks littering the ground to stone the poor victim to an unrecognisably bloody pulp.
Then they'd all gone away again for a while, leaving her to dwell on what she'd seen in the sure knowledge that a similar fate awaited Brennan and herself unless some miracle happened.
It almost had.
She'd caught a flash of movement on top of the tree-lined bluff curving round the far side of the field just after the last of the enemy had disappeared and, without quite knowing how she'd known it was Jesse. Her heart had swelled with pride and love that he'd come to help them, although at the same time her stomach had been fluttering with anxiety for him, given his undeniable lack of fitness. And while she'd waited breathlessly for his next move, she'd prayed that he could stay undetected long enough to reach them.
Her prayers had gone unanswered, though; she'd seen the dark figures materialise as if by magic around him, watched him fend off the first few, waiting in vain for him to use his powers to fell the others or slip out of their reach. But unaccountably it hadn't happened and he'd succumbed quickly, going down under their combined weight.
She'd wanted so badly to call out to him as they'd dragged his battered form down to one of the empty 'coops' somewhere off to her left, to let him know she was there, give him what moral support she could. But she'd held back, not wanting to hand them anything more to use against him than they already had.
There'd been plenty of time to try not to think about what he might be suffering at their hands, but it had been too quickly interrupted by another demonstration of the sadistic inhumanity these people were capable of. This time it was a girl, another innocent tried and condemned for the accident of her birth, her life snuffed out at the whim of a madman despite her tearful pleas for mercy. Shalimar had added her voice, her furious verbal assault on the whole bunch of them going totally ignored as they'd slipped the knotted rope round the girl's neck and slowly garrotted her, terrified eyes bulging and limbs jerking uncontrollably until finally and irrevocably stilled by death.
The door to her little world had been slammed shut for a while after that. But after a too brief respite, it was her turn.
She didn't make it easy for them, though, throwing her full weight into her struggles to break free of the apes practically carrying her, screaming her defiance all the way to the point where they dropped her to her feet and slammed her head back against the unforgiving solidity of what proved to be a wooden post, dazing her enough to allow them to chain her up again.
By the time she recovered her senses, shaking her hair back off her face, she was alone in the gathering gloom. But that gave her no comfort at all as she finally realised just exactly what they had in store for her.
*
Still reeling from what he'd witnessed, Brennan swallowed in an attempt to ease a throat made dry and sore by his relentless need to verbally vent his outrage and revulsion. The rest of him was pretty sore too, a combination of his earlier treatment and what he'd put himself through trying to batter a way out of his prison, and even though he was currently hidden from external view by the door that had again closed in front of him, he knew he needed at least a short breather before he tried anything more. There was a panel at the back of the box that might be worth...
But all that was forgotten in a heartbeat when a new sound split the falling dusk – a sound he had no problem in identifying as Shalimar. He scrambled to his feet as the door jerked open on its remote-controlled latch and his eyes were drawn automatically to the bucking heaving figure being manhandled towards... oh God, no, not that! His pulse pounded in his ears and his guts churned in despair as he roared out his rage and anguish, bunching his muscles in his increasingly violent efforts to free himself.
But even the knowledge of what was at stake – literally! - couldn't give him the edge he needed, though he could feel the structure trembling around him under his assault. Only his powers could do that and they were frustratingly still unavailable to him.
Into a brief moment of silence, though, came a breathy whisper that only barely percolated through the blood rushing in his ears, and it took him a moment longer to understand that someone was calling his name.
"Brennan? Is that you? Oh, please God, let it be you..."
The sound was coming from behind him, he realised, and when he looked round he could see movement through the shattered remnants of the wooden slat a few feet off the ground that he'd apparently managed to take out with one of his random frenzied kicks. As he watched he saw fingers hook round the pieces and tug them outwards, making a space big enough for whoever it was to look through, and with a jolt he recognised the wide-eyed, tear-stained face peering up at him.
"Oh, thank God, Brennan..."
"Connie? What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded incredulously, casting a wary eye outside and biting back a curse at the sight of the torch lit procession moving into view round the bluff. Shalimar's yells of defiance were taking on a note of desperation that tore at his heart and, if he could have ripped his arms from their sockets to get to her, at that moment he probably would have done it. But Connie was speaking again, and he shook his attention back to what could now be their last hope.
"I don't know... I shouldn't be here... I should have stayed on the plane like Adam told me, then I'd be back at Sanctuary by now, safe! But oh, no, I had to know better. Why do I do these things to myself? I only wanted to see if I could help Jesse or keep tabs on him so they'll know where to find him when they get here but they're *killing* people and they'll kill me if they find me and oh God..." Her hysteria-laden voice had been rising in both pitch and volume as she babbled and Brennan had to say her name several times before she heard him and stopped.
"Connie, calm down! When who get here?" The procession was getting closer to their goal, and the only good thing he could take from that was the hope the torches would have to spoil their night sight enough that what was happening way over here would be less noticeable. "Wait a minute... Jesse's here?" The smallest beginnings of an idea were starting to form in his mind, born out of the urgency of their situation.
She blinked at him from the shadows. "Yes, he came to find you, but they caught him too. I didn't know you'd be all chained up like this – I should have brought something... maybe I should go and fetch..."
"No, listen to me, Connie. We don't have much time and I need you to concentrate." He crouched down so he could look her in the eyes, wasting precious seconds to be sure she was focused on him. "Remember what I showed you when we had that talk back in Sanctuary? That first step to making a spark? I need you to do that now."
"Oh God, no, I can't, I don't know how!" The panic was clear in her voice and the way her hands flapped distractedly around her face and hair.
Despite the overwhelming feeling that time was running out for them all, he tried to project as much calmness and confidence as he could, wishing distantly that Emma were here to do her thing. "Yes, you can. You have to." He twisted round so she could see the device on the back of the band round his throat. "Just point at the disc at the back of this collar, then do like I told you. Look inside for your power – you'll find it. You just have to believe."
"OhGodohGodohGodohGod..." but he felt her cold trembling hand reach through the gap to touch the back of his neck briefly before it pulled away.
He could see the procession had almost reached the place of execution, but it was all he could do to prevent himself shouting at her to hurry, knowing that wasn't going to help. He was searching for some encouragement he could offer instead when a familiar sound raised the hairs on his neck and arms and an energy bolt hit him hard enough to rattle his brain and send all his muscles into spasm. Through the static filling his head he heard the girl whimpering in alarm, "Oh my God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... Don't be dead, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry..." and he unclenched his teeth enough to reassure her he was alright, that she'd done well.
And indeed, when he went in search of his own powers he found them released and ready to go. With grim satisfaction, he produced more minor sparks of his own, wincing at the slight discharge from the electronic locks on his cuffs as they shorted and sprang open, at the same time saying firmly, "Connie, I need you to go find Jesse, free him like you did me, OK? And hurry – he may be the only one who can help her now." Because out across the field, at a command from their leader, the torchbearers were already moving to encircle what would soon be Shalimar's funeral pyre, and Brennan had no illusions that he'd be able to take on this private army alone and win.
He only knew he'd go down trying.
*
Sunset... and it was happening just as he'd known it would. He could hear her crying out, no matter how hard he tried to block the sound, could feel it piercing his soul. Could see the growing light from the flames being carried towards her even through the eyelids he kept screwed resolutely closed so he wouldn't have to watch her die, and he moaned his despair at what was to be.
He knew he should be struggling, fighting, working to get free so he could save her – or if not, at least be with her at the end. That was what he'd seen happening, after all, lived with through the past few days of hell. But the burden of his failure was so heavy, so all-embracing, that he could barely find it within himself to raise his head. Even the sharp true pain of abused muscles, torn skin and raw flesh couldn't compete, couldn't cut through the inertia that seemed to ensnare him as he heard the charges read, sentence passed.
Something did, though. A riffle of movement disturbing the air around him, a whispered warning, a hand that ghosted over the sweat-sheened skin of his neck, and with extreme effort he cranked his eyes open just in time to catch the look of concentration on Connie's face as she unleashed a burst of energy that rocketed through him like wildfire. Taken totally by surprise, he jerked back against his bonds at the tremors that tied his thought processes into knots, along with what felt like every other part of him, hitting his head with a force that threatened a total shutdown.
"Jesse? Jesse! No, don't do this. Come on, Jesse. Please try!" Familiar words, words that had drawn him out of the nightmare the last time, though spoken with a different tongue. And he latched on, letting them pull him up again, realising as he did so that something had changed. Almost without thinking he let his breath out and held it, the clank as the cuffs dropped away from suddenly intangible wrists and ankles coming as music to his ears. Inhaling quickly before his lungs could start in again with their complaints, he turned bewildered eyes to the pale blur looking up at him, questioning, "What...? How did...?"
"Quickly! Brennan said you had to help her!" Small hands pushed him towards the door, and he finally saw for real the scene he'd been carrying in his head. But there were subtle differences, and he understood that this time he'd been given a chance at redemption.
The world outside his box was one of chaos, the hot orange glow of the newly released flames throwing the surrounding area into a comparative darkness that was split at irregular intervals by the electric blue discharge of Brennan's sniping attacks on the dark figures milling in organised confusion around the fire. Muzzle-flashes added their own counterpoint, the accompanying whine of bullets contributing to the cacophony of sound that could still do nothing to hide from him the increasingly frightened cries that instantly became his sole focus.
Putting his head down, he sprinted across the open space in complete disregard of those who would stop him, intent on getting to her before the fledgling blaze could take hold. He was peripherally aware of men looming out of the dark to intercept him, but they seemed to spin away before they could reach him, taken out by the blue lightning and... pink blasts?... Emma?... But there was no time to question because he was there and... 'Hold on, Shal, I'm coming!'
A curtain of fire leapt up in front of him, hiding her from his view. But he knew she was there, could still hear the evidence of her fear, see her in his mind's eye. So he exhaled and phased his way in, feeling the heat searing at his molecules as if in ill-tempered reprisal for its inability to physically touch him. The knifing pain came back, stabbing up under his ribs and adding to the normal toll this particular manifestation of his powers exacted from him, conspiring with lungs that seemed to have only half their normal capacity to force him to breathe in immediately, but he couldn't pander to his body's shortcomings right now and pushed it all ruthlessly away.
Reaching the still calm eye of the growing inferno, he solidified and conjured up a smile of reassurance for the woman who was already succumbing to the primal responses of her feral DNA as he massed a fist to hammer the chains binding her into so much scrap metal. Her eyes were glazing over with panic and he had to grasp her arms with more force than he wanted, shaking her until he was sure she was listening to his necessarily terse commands. He'd already identified the only way out, having fleetingly considered then discarded the too frightening idea of making his first attempt at directly phasing another person along with himself; even the urgency of this situation couldn't make him dare running the risk of losing control of himself and, in the process, losing her. Not that the alternatives were any easier, and he knew what it was going to take for them both to survive this, just hoping he had it within himself to do it. But he needed her at least composed enough to do as he asked.
He pulled off his ripped T-shirt to give her some added protection from the hungry tongues of fire that immediately reached out to stroke the naked skin of his back, and the smoke that caught in his lungs in a way that he knew meant another coughing fit was just around the corner. Not yet, he prayed, please, gesturing to her to cover her face as he turned towards the one partial gap in the encroaching circle of flames, the place where he'd seen one of the torch-carrying men felled before he could complete his task.
Taking a deep breath he massed out, searching for the perfect balance of density that would allow him to withstand direct contact with the fire yet still retain enough mobility to clear a path wide enough for her to follow without danger. He felt without really feeling the feral pressing her face into his back, trembling with fear as he kicked and pushed the burning bundles away, using his added weight to send them flying off into the night. It was costly, though – the constant struggle to maintain his mass at just the right level sapped his already weakened mental reserves, and the physical strain of moving at sufficient density to avoid damage was immense, tearing at muscles and tendons. Too soon, he reached the point where he knew he was going to have to take a breath. But from somewhere within him he felt something egging him on, supporting, encouraging, and he drew enough strength from it to continue.
The final barrier surrendered to his foot, and the heated roar of the flames gave way to voices – familiar voices, Brennan, Adam?... shouting his name, calling him forward. But almost before he'd managed to drag in sufficient hot, smoke-filled but nonetheless delicious air to replace the oxygen-depleted supply gushing out of him, he was turning back towards Shalimar, his heart sinking to see her still standing, mesmerised and trembling, at the wrong end of the swathe he'd cut through the fire.
Oblivious to the sparks stinging at his arms and torso, and the skin blistering beneath smouldering fabric where the fire had taken advantage of his momentary lapses in density control, he started to go to her, to bring her to safety. But the pressure that had been building in his chest with nowhere to go suddenly exploded into paroxysms of agonising coughing that drove him to one knee, his inner self railing against fates that would allow him so close to saving her only to snatch her from his grasp in the end.
Even as he watched through streaming eyes, though, he saw the huge bulk of Brennan race by him through the gap to sweep the woman into his arms and bundle her towards him and out of danger, his, "Let's go, Jess," floating back to him as he sped past.
He tried to follow, but he had nothing left to give, exhaustion and pain wrapping themselves around him, dragging him back to his knees and sending him toppling forward to sprawl in the dirt. Up ahead he saw the elemental pause, eyes flicking from him to the blonde head resting against his shoulder and back, obviously torn between them. Jesse heard the bullets screaming through the air above him, though, the yells, the thud of running feet and raised his head long enough to call, "Go! Get her out of here!"
Above him, the sky was suddenly rent by fingers of light stabbing through the night on a crescendo of sound that drowned out everything else, and a breeze kicked up as if from nowhere to send the dust whirling into eddies.
He managed to keep the encroaching blackness at bay until he saw Brennan nod once and turn away to be swallowed up by the shadows, then with a sigh he let himself spiral off into its welcoming arms.
****