Dunsinane
Act III
by Timesprite
"One more time, Sam, just so we're clear."
With a sigh, Samuel Guthrie dove back into his explanation of the events of the last two weeks. The story he'd formulated on the flight into Westchester had come to him more easily than he would have expected--then again, he wasn't flat out lying, either. Just omitting and editing where necessary. All the repetition was making him hoarse. Granted, the original explanation had been somewhat hurried as his unceremonious appearance on the lawn with his two injured companions had caused quite the stir.
Cable was, for all intents and purposes, in good condition. Banged up from the fight with Rachel, but Sam was more worried about what would happen once the man woke up than he was about his actual survival. Domino had been another story. Blaquesmith had done his best with the equipment he had on hand, but she'd only gotten worse as the flight progressed, and by the time they'd reached the mansion, she'd been critical. Hank was still down dealing with her, but last he'd been told she was doing better, despite a collapsed lung.
With an inward sigh, he hurried through the end of his retelling, grateful that this was almost over. It seemed he'd been on his feet non-stop since this entire mess had started, and he was exhausted. Maybe Scott would take pity on him and let him sleep now. His eyes skimmed over the assembled faces, noting once again how much things had changed since he'd last been with the X-Men. He was fairly sure they weren't completely buying his story. Understandable, since it all seemed a little crazy to him, and he'd experienced it all.
"There is just one thing you haven't made clear, Samuel," Xavier spoke up. "How is it you arrived here?"
A part of him had been really hoping they'd neglect to ask that. He met Charles' gaze steadily, reinforcing his mental shields as he did so. "Ah'm afraid Ah can't tell you that, sir."
"You don't know, or you won't divulge the information?" He pressed.
"Ah made a promise not to tell."
"Sam," Cyclops broke in, sounding ever so slightly critical. He would side with the professor, of course. He didn't know. Would he still feel that way, he wondered, once the truth behind the whole debacle came out?
"Ya'll are just gonna have to trust me on this one."
Scott sighed and nodded tiredly, no doubt worried over what he'd just heard about his wayward son's activities. It was a lot to swallow, Sam supposed, even if he was used to Nathan's way of doing things by now. "All right. I'm going to assume that you wouldn't have done that without a good reason, because I know you, Sam, and I know you wouldn't do anything without justification. Why don't you go get some sleep? You look like you could use it. Anything else that comes up can wait until morning."
----
He ducked into the medlab on his way upstairs. Henry was working intently on something but looked up as Sam stepped in. "Something I can assist you with Samuel?"
"Nah. Just wanted ta see how they were doin.'"
"Both stable. Jean is with Nathan now."
Sam nodded. He wished he could have told Jean what he knew--but he couldn't, not when he couldn't tell her how he knew it. "Can Ah go see Dom? Ah don't think anyone else is likely to, 'sides Logan, anyway."
"Of course."
He nodded his thanks and walked down to the room. The first thought that entered his head was that she looked fragile surrounded by machines, wires, and tubes. Dom wasn't supposed to look fragile, and it bothered him a little. He hesitated in the doorway for a moment before finally walking in and taking her hand lightly.
It could have been worse. If Blaquesmith hadn't been there, she might have died in the desert before there'd been a chance to get her help. Hank was being cautious, keeping her sedated for now. She wasn't likely to be very cooperative once she was awake, so Sam couldn't really fault him for the intervention. He sat down in one of the chairs and sighed. He felt like his mind had been going a million miles an hour for the last few days and it was only now that he'd had time to slow down that the reality of the situation was beginning to settle on his shoulders. None of this was his fault, and he knew it. Still, a part of him felt bad at having asked Dom along on his little endeavor, knowing that she wasn't at her best. But then, he'd hoped to help on that front, as well.
"Sam?"
He broke away from his inner musings, looking up to see Jean leaning in the doorway. "Yeah?"
"Have you had a chance to sleep yet?"
"No, ma'am. Was going to, but then, it didn't seem right ta just leave her alone like that."
She walked into the room. "I can stay for a bit. Granted, I'm probably not the person she'd pick, but under the circumstances I don't think it'll hurt."
He nodded. "Ah appreciate that." He got up and headed for the door. As he passed, Jean reached out and touched him on the arm. He paused.
"Sam, I wanted to thank you--for doing this. I think we were all so used to Nathan acting on his own... I feel responsible for not noticing something was wrong."
He shook his head. "Not your fault. It ain't anyone's fault, really." The lie felt like acid on his tongue. "We just got to deal with the situation now that we know 'bout it." He just wished he knew how he was going to do that.
----
"How is he?"
Jean leaned in the doorway, contemplating the back of her husband's head as he worked at one of the computer terminals in the War Room. "The same. It wouldn't kill you to go see him yourself."
Scott Summers half turned in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry," he replied. "It's just..." He looked back to the computer screen. "I can't figure out what he was hoping to accomplish with all of this."
Jean crossed the room and touched his shoulder lightly. He'd been tense since his return from the 'dead,' his possession by the mad external Apocalypse. Nathan had helped her save him from the ordeal, but hadn't hung around to deal with the fallout. Things just weren't the same, and the current turn of events was only further proof of that. "Nathan's motivations never were easy to figure out, Scott. Whatever it was, it probably made sense to him at the time."
"That's not terribly reassuring," he sighed.
"I know. Unfortunately, he's the only one who can enlighten us, and I still haven't been able to reach him." She sat down next to him. "Scott, I was speaking to Charles earlier. He suggested that it might be time to intervene."
Scott turned to look at her, face expressionless behind his ruby quartz glasses. "It's only been a week."
"I know," she sighed. "I told him we'd rather wait a bit longer... see if he comes out of this on his own. Charles is concerned that he poses a threat."
Cyclops stared down at the console for a long moment. "We've had greater risks to security than Nathan in the mansion before," he murmured, looked up again. "I have a bad feeling about all of this. Something isn't right. Sam wasn't telling us the whole truth about what happened, I'm sure of it."
Jean smiled thinly. "He's not a very convincing liar."
"Because he doesn't do it," he replied. "He must have good reason, which is why I haven't pushed the issue. But if he knows something that could help me sort this all out..." He trailed off. "Maybe I should go talk to him."
Jean leaned in and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "You should. After you go see Nathan."
----
"How you feelin'?"
"Like--hell."
The words were more mouthed than actually spoken--Hank had taken Dom off the respirator yesterday but hadn't started backing off on the sedation until that morning. Sam reached over and took a pitcher and cup off a tray beside the bed. He poured a little water into the cup and handed it to her. She took a sip, giving him a grateful look. "How is--"
"He's the same. Looks like Blaquesmith was right about us not havin' ta worry on that account," he continued, voice pitched low to avoid being overheard. The entire situation was making him paranoid. He'd spent the last week constantly looking over his shoulder, and even Scott had told him he needed to relax a little. If only it were that simple.
Dom nodded, then rested her head back on the pillow, eyes sliding closed. There were tiny lines of pain etched on her face, as if simply being conscious hurt. "Sam... I'm sorry."
He frowned. "There's nothin' to be apologizing for here."
Her eyes slid open a crack, her expression strangely sad. "No... I'm sorry that--you have to be a part of this... it never should have happened."
"Well, it has, and there ain't any point in wishin' it hadn't, now is there?"
A thin smile formed on her face. "What is--is."
"Now you're just teasin' me," he replied, realizing an instant too late that she'd drifted off to sleep.
----
"Sam."
Sam stopped mid-step on his way out of the medlab and cast a glance over his shoulder. Scott approached him from down the hall, apparently having come from Cable's room. "Problem?" He asked as the elder X-Man reached him.
"I was just wondering if we could have a talk, Sam." He saw suspicion flash across the younger man's face and added, "Off the record. I'm not trying to interrogate you, and this isn't an order. I get the impression something's bothering you, maybe something you want to talk about?"
Sam frowned. "Ah'd love to, really. But Ah'm not sure it's a good idea."
"Look, Sam, if you know something you think could help--"
"It ain't that," he replied. "You know Ah want him ta get better as much as ya'll do... Ah just don't think you're gonna like what Ah have ta say, is all."
"Well, why don't you tell me, and I can judge. Right now, I'd be grateful for any sort of illumination you can offer, Sam. This situation isn't making sense to me, and I have a feeling that's because I haven't been told the whole truth."
Sam stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slightly. "Alright. Ah'll tell ya what I can, but y'r gonna have ta deal with the fact that there are some things Ah just can't share. Not right now."
"I think I can handle that. You eaten yet?"
"Nope."
"Good."
----
The interior of Harry's Hideaway was smoky yet comforting in an inexplicable way. The atmosphere seemed to fold itself around Sam, and he relaxed, just a little, as he wondered just how many events in the secret lives of the X-Men the building had been witness too.
"Sam... you're expecting me to just take this on good faith?"
"Well, yeah. Ah guess Ah am."
"It really doesn't help your credibility that you won't tell me who told you this."
"Ah know. But Ah promised. Ah wish ta hell Ah could tell ya, it'd prolly make this a lot easier. But all Ah can say is that Ah trust 'em, an' Ah don't see why they'd lie 'bout this."
"Sam, these are pretty serious accusations you're making against the Professor here. Did you stop to think that maybe the person telling you this is trying to create a divide in the X-Men? Break up the ranks?"
"Nope. An' if you knew who this was we're talkin' about, neither would you." Sam leaned forward on his elbows, giving Scott an earnest look. "Ah respect the Professor, really. Haven't always agreed with him, that ain't a secret, but Ah'm not about to let someone make accusations just 'cause we got a few personal differences. Believe me, Ah wish that all this was--another person tryin' ta burn down everything we've spent years holdin' together--but it just ain't, and that's what makes it worse. Ah believe them, and Ah wish ta God I didn't."
Scott Summers' face remained a composed mask, whatever emotions that may have been readable in his eyes obscured by his glasses. "Sam, I'd like to trust you on this. But I just can't make that judgment given the information you've given me. There just isn't enough proof."
"Ah know. An' Ah really wasn't expectin' ya to, ta be honest. But do me a favor?"
"Of course."
"Ask Jean somethin' for me. Ask her why, when Cable was runnin' 'round, doin' the kinds of things he was, usin' his powers like he was... why is it not a single telepath noticed? Why didn't she notice?"
Scott looked at the younger man for a long moment, obviously contemplating the question himself, before finally speaking. "Okay, Sam. I'll ask."
----
"I understand your concern Charles, but do you really think this is necessary? Maybe we should give him more time... allow Nathan's mind to recover on its own? If he's withdrawn like this, maybe it's because he's trying to heal himself." Jean Grey set aside her teacup on a small side table, and leaned back in the richly upholstered chair. Xavier faced her from across his desk, setting aside his own identical cup.
"Believe me Jean, I know how you must feel about this. You fear for his well being. Which is why I'm asking for your and Scott's cooperation in this matter. While it very well may be that Nathan has simply shielded himself in order to recover, we can't be sure of it, and unless we intervene to determine whether he is a threat, we are forced to conclude that we have a ticking time bomb in our midst. I am not willing to gamble the lives of all those here on the assumption that Nathan is merely 'pulling himself together.' Are you?"
Jean tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sighed. "This isn't the first instance we've housed someone who poses a potential threat, Professor. So far, Nathan's shown no sign of conscious thought, let alone threat of harm to himself or others."
"And we paid dearly for those previous leniencies, Jean. If, as you say, Nathan poses no danger to anyone, than I am fully willing to let him recover on his own. But I do not like to leave the safety of my students resting on an uncertainty." He paused. "Nathan is your son. I understand what it is like to be faced with a situation like this, and I will not force any sort of action upon you. I can only tell you what I believe is best. And what I believe is that it would be negligent of us not to investigate this further."
Jean sighed. "You're right, of course. I'd like some time... to think about this, talk it over with Scott. Thank you, Professor. This has all just been so hard to come to grips with."
"Trust me, Jean, I have empathy for your position. It is a difficult place for any parent to be placed in, no matter how old their child is. We can only hope that everything will right itself in the end."
Jean uncurled her legs from beneath her. "I appreciate your input on this, Charles. There's a lot to consider, of course." She smiled thinly and retrieved her cup from the table. "I'll speak with Scott, see how he feels, try to explain your concerns over all of this." She rubbed the side of her head with her free hand. "This has been trying for the both of us. Goodnight, Professor."
----
Domino swung her legs over the side of the bed and stared down at the burnished metal of the medlab's floor. Probably cold, a part of her mind noted idly as she sat there, arms braced against the mattress, the rest of her trying to decide if her legs would hold her weight.
"Goin' somewhere?"
She looked up, startled, but unwilling to show it. "What are you, my personal shadow?"
"Nah." Sam pushed off the doorjamb and walked over to her. "Actually, had a bet goin' with Hank on how long he could keep ya here."
She smiled thinly. "Who won?"
Sam glanced at the clock on the far wall. "Let's see... twelve hours since ya woke up? Look like he owes me twenty."
"Guess I'm just too damned predictable," she muttered and pushed herself to her feet. The floor was as cold as she'd imagined it'd be. Sam reached for her arm, but she brushed him off. "I can stand on my own," she snapped.
He dropped his hand. "Alright, if ya say so," he sighed. "Don't s'pose Ah can talk ya into takin' it easy."
"I don't like this place, Sam," she replied, voice still raw sounding. "That's all."
"You really shouldn't be up."
"I know that," she replied in irritation. "I'm not stupid. But I'm sick of laying here."
"Well, Ah made sure there was a room for you upstairs. Ah'll take ya up there, but you gotta promise you'll hold off on doin' anything stupid for a few more days."
She cast him a sideways glance and sighed. "Alright, Sam. You've got a deal."
He picked up a blanket from the bed and draped it over her shoulders. "Good." He slid an arm across her back, ignoring the glare she gave him. She didn't want his help, but she was just going to have to deal with it, because he didn't have any intention of backing off. She wanted everyone to leave her alone, and he knew that was the last thing she needed.
She stood on the opposite side of the elevator, hugging herself slightly as they ascended out of the sub-basement and up to the second floor dormitories. Turning left, he counted off the rooms, then opened a door. "Here ya go. Ah put your bags in the closet."
"Thanks." In the grey half-light of the hallway, her thin smile looked ghostly. "I know I've complained a lot--"
"That's puttin' it lightly," Sam teased.
"But," she continued, ignoring the good-natured interruption, "I appreciate it, Sam."
"Ah know." He touched her shoulder lightly. "Sleep well."
"I'll try." She waited a moment longer as she watched him disappear down the hallway before stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. She leaned back against it, letting out a soft sigh of pain. Across from her, strong moonlight was flooding in through the barred windows, intensified by the covering of snow that blanketed the estate. It was the first time she'd seen the outside since she'd lost consciousness in the desert, and though she'd known, logically, where she was, part of her had still been expecting dunes of sand. The effect was somewhat jarring.
Folding the blanket and dropping it on the empty dresser top, she walked to the closet and dug through her bag for her own pajamas. It felt good just to be out of the damned infirmary. She walked into the small bathroom and started the shower, stripping off the medical scrubs and wincing at her reflection in the mirror. After a week, the bruises that mottled her body had faded a bit, but the sickly yellow still stood in sharp contrast on her white skin, as did the long, thin surgical scar that ran along her torso. Granted, the Shi'ar tech McCoy had access to had reduced what would have been a painful incision to little more than a thin, pink line on her side, and it could have been far worse, but it still hurt a good deal, and she knew she probably shouldn't have been moving around as much as she was.
She stepped into the shower and sighed again, this time out of pleasure as the hot water hit her skin. After letting the water stream over her for a few minutes, she shampooed her hair and gingerly cleaned her skin, then turned off the water and stepped out, toweling off and pulling on her PJs before roughly drying her hair and giving it a quick comb through. She left the bathroom and flipped back the covers on the bed, climbing in. The soft mattress cradled her battered body as she laid back on the pillows and stared out at the snow-frosted landscape that spread before the large windows.
----
"I talked to Charles again." Jean's voice was soft in the darkness as she watched the still form of her husband at the window, hands on the sill, intent on the landscape below him. "Something's bothering you," she said after a moment of silence.
He looked back at her, moonlight glinting momentarily off his glasses in a red flash. "What did he have to say?"
She sighed, sweeping her long red hair over a shoulder as she remained seated on the edge of their bed. "He's still convinced it's the right thing to do."
"Why?"
Jean frowned. There was a trace of bitterness... of suspicion? in Scott's voice. "The same, really. He wants to ascertain for certain whether or not Nathan poses a danger..." she trailed off. Through their rapport, she could sense a feeling of unease, of uncertainty bubbling beneath his surface thoughts--something he was trying to keep from her. Something that was bothering him on a very deep and intimate level. "I did try to reason with him--I pointed out that Nathan is certainly no greater threat in this state than Sabertooth ever was... he said he didn't want to risk making the same mistakes he had in the past. I can see his point, of course..." She stopped, acutely aware that her husband's attention was not focused on her words. "Scott, talk to me. Something's the matter. Did you speak with Sam?"
He turned to face her then, backlit by the silver of reflected moonlight. "I did," he replied. "Nothing good came of it."
She stood, walking to him, and rested a hand in his shoulder. He was so familiar, the man she had loved for forever, it seemed, and yet different... distant, as he had been since freed from Apocalypse's grasp. "Well, what did he say?"
Scott reached out, touching the side of her face lightly, then dropped his hand. "Not a whole lot--there was so much he said he just couldn't tell me... the gist of it, though, was that the Professor had a hand in what happened to Nate."
"That's not possible."
"That's what I told him. But he knew the seriousness of the accusations he was making, and he believed them, Jean. That worries me."
"Well, there's obviously been a mistake made somewhere. Charles wouldn't--"
"I know, I know. But Sam had a question for you, one that's been bothering me since he asked it. He wanted to know why, with everything that Nathan was doing... why didn't you sense it? Why didn't anyone notice? Not you, not Emma, not even the Professor. And for the life of me Jean, I can't find an answer to that one."
She stared at him, green eyes wide, then looked away, wrapping her arms around herself. "I don't know, Scott. He's hard to read clearly sometimes, but... You're right... Sam's right. God, I have no idea."
