Dunsinane
Act VI

by Timesprite

Afternoon sun shone down on the busy street across from the tall, indifferent façade of the X-Corporation's Hong Kong office. Rachel Summers ran a hand through her hair and sighed at her blond companion. "Let me go with you."

"Ah don't think that's gonna be a good idea, Rachel. Can't ya just tell me if she's there or not, so Ah know if Ah'm gonna need to be deflecting bullets?" It was meant to be a joke, but it came out sounding flat, even to his own ears.

She shook her head. "The building is psi-shielded. Not surprising. I doubt Charles would want other telepaths 'eavesdropping' on his little projects."

Sam sighed and looked up at the glass and steel tower. "Ah s'pose that makes sense."

"And it's why you should let me go with you, Sam. We don't know what you're going to find."

Sam frowned a little, and decided to ignore the darker implications behind her words. "Look, Ah agreed you could come with—if he's around, you might be able t' tell, but Ah wanna talk to her mahself. She's not gonna trust me if you come with, an' if she'd don't, we're not gonna get a thing outta her. If she even knows anything to begin with. Ah'm not convinced she will."

"Sam, she told you she'd keep in touch. It's been two weeks now, and she hasn't so much as returned a single call you've made."

"That's why Ah'm checkin' on her, Rachel. But just 'cause Dom ain't answerin' her phone don't mean she knows anything 'bout where Cable is."

"You can think of another reason for her to totally cut off contact?"

"Lots. Look, when X-Force was still all together, she used ta leave a lot, a few days here, a week. Ta hear Cable tell it, she was always workin,' but sometimes he'd be scowling 'bout it, like she was on vacation—only Dom's vacations amounted to her tryin' to just ignore the whole world for awhile." He sighed. "Ah shouldn't have let her leave like that."

Rachel touched his arm lightly. "You wouldn't have been able to keep her there, if she didn't want to stay, Sam. I admit, I don't really know her at all, but I can tell that much."

"You've got a point, Ah guess." He looked up at the building again. "Well, there's no use wastin' more time out here, Ah s'pose."

----

Domino slung her bag over her shoulder as she approached the X-Corp building, and frowned slightly as she found the door slightly ajar. She paused to pull her gun as a precaution, though the door seemed to be too obviously left open for her to believe it wasn't done on purpose. She dropped her bag inside the door and made her way up to the conference room.

"Don't check your messages, do you?"

"Hello, Sam." She lowered the gun. "Been waiting long?"

"A few hours. Ah called ahead but..." He trailed off, leaning back in his chair.

"I had something I needed to take care of," she replied. "Sorry I didn't clear my schedule with you." She gave him a cool look before sitting down, setting the gun aside.

He leaned forward again, watching her intently. Suspiciously. It was a look she didn't like seeing on Sam. "What kind of somethin'?"

"Personal business," she responded, matching his exaggeratedly civil tone. "And yes, I know Xavier's people didn't see me leave," she continued, flashing him a trace of a satisfied smile. "I didn't want them to. Why are you here, Sam?"

"Ta make sure you weren't dead. Ya promised ta keep in touch."

"Sorry."

He waved a hand. "No, you're not. Don't matter." He studied her for a long moment, before relaxing into his chair again. "You know where he is, don't you?"

"No."

Sam sighed. He hadn't expected her to admit it, of course, and he was sure she knew he didn't believe her. "He took out Blaquesmith's headquarters, so he must have figured out we're tryin' to find him."

"Well, if he was in New York without anyone knowing, I think you have worse problems on your hands than just him knowing what you're up to."

"Ah didn't say it was in New York."

She shook her head. "Educated guess, Sam. Stop trying to catch me--you're no good at it. Besides, I told you, I don't know anything."

"Would you, if you did?"

"Probably not. I don't want anyone touching him." She frowned. "You and Rachel included, Sam. I don't want him controlled, manipulated, or whatever other euphemism Xavier and Blaquesmith have been bandying about. He deserves to do what he wants to do with his life, Sam."

"He's dangerous as is. You know that."

"He's always been dangerous. This is nothing new. Everyone's uneasy now because they can't write it off anymore. No ends justifying the means, and they don't like that he's not playing for their team anymore. It's over Sam. Let go."

"When we started this, you agreed with me," he countered. "What happened?"

"I remembered how happy we all were once. I remembered how life, this life, destroyed that. I can't do that again. Not willingly." She turned away. "I'm not staying here. Tell Xavier I'm out. I'm too tired for all of this."

"Where are you going?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Can't, or won't?"

"Won't."

----

"So she's with him." Rachel leaned back in the seat of the minijet and sighed. They were currently over the Pacific, on their way back to Westchester. Her scans for Nathan had turned up nothing, though she was sure now that he'd been in the area. And probably aware of her presence. The fact that he'd decided not to confront her was inwardly somewhat reassuring--she hadn't been looking forward to a repeat of their telekinetic fistfight in Akkaba.

"Ah think that's a given, yeah."

"But she wouldn't admit to it."

"Would you?"

"I suppose not," Rachel sighed. "Why? I don't understand this. She was with us on this. Why change her mind?"

Sam shook his head. "She probably didn't. But Dom... she was always his fallback. She always came when he needed her... Ah think she knows he needs help, but she has to try it her way."

Rachel pursed her lips. "I hardly think she's in the ...right frame of mind to be trying that."

"Dom's stubborn as all hell. Ah'm sure she realizes she ain't exactly peachy herself, she's not stupid, but that ain't gonna stop her. That's what's got me nervous. But, hell. Maybe we're all wrong. Maybe they just need a little time."

"Optimism is great in theory," Rachel replied dryly. "In practice, it can be a disaster. But he's not ripping the astral plane to pieces anymore, and the only trouble he's caused lately has been typical Nathan, so I guess we can always hope. But I'm not ready to drop my guard yet."

"Neither am Ah. Ah just don't think we need ta go advertisin' the fact that she's with him."

"True." She smiled thinly. "And the conspiracy grows."

----

"There's no need to hover outside the door, Scott. Please, come in."

Holding back a sigh, Scott Summers opened the heavy doors, and tried to steel himself for what was bound to be one of the most difficult conversations of his life. Xavier was sitting, as usual, behind his desk. Scott strode to the center of the room and stood there, hands clasped behind his back. "I want to know how you could do it. I know why, but I want to know how you could justify an action like that. What reasoning did you use that made it okay to use my son--my son as a weapon?"

"Scott..."

"No. Just, tell me." He stepped forward, putting both hands on the large desk. "I've always been loyal to you, Charles. I've believed in everything you stand for whole-heartedly. And while I may have sometimes wished it hadn't cost me so very much, I have never doubted those convictions. Until now. You, Jean, everyone... you thought I was dead, and this is how you were going to honor my memory? By sending Nathan out to fight the battles you found too distasteful for your own people?"

Xavier steepled his fingers, and gave Scott a calm look. "I have always considered you something of a son, Scott. I would never want to cause you any pain. I was simply acting--"

"You have caused me pain. Nathan has been a source of pain for me nearly since his birth. You know that I feel I've let him down more than I've ever been able to help him. And now, again, I feel like there's nothing I can do. But you had a hand in it. You could have left him alone, and you didn't. You *must* have known how wrong his joining the X-Men in my place was, Professor. You, of all people, must have realized how he would feel about my taking his place. It was a sacrifice I was more than willing to make for him. I wanted him to have the chance he'd never been given before, and you could have helped him afterwards, but you didn't. You decided he'd be better off serving you than finding his own place in the world. And you tried mighty hard to make sure that no one would realize you'd done it." He lowered his voice. "Jean... told me. About the Sisterhood he was fighting. The things you said to her. How could you have done that?" He was shaking now, a physical tremor that started in his gut and worked its way outward. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut behind the visor. "How could you? We trusted you."

Xavier closed his eyes for a moment and sighed wearily. "I never meant to betray your trust, Scott. I simply felt that with your death, Nathan was on a path for self-destruction. You ask me why I did not try to help your son, but I did. I honestly felt, whether you choose to believe me or not, that this was the best thing I could do for him. He has been so manipulated, so controlled over the course of his life--left on his own, I feared what he would become. He is a violent man, Scott."

"He's also my son."

The Professor favored him with a thin smile. "Believe me, Scott, I know how you are feeling. Conflicted, wishing there were more you could do. I wish I could make things better, but as matters stand now, there is nothing you, I, or anyone else can do, unless Nathan chooses to seek our aid. You have to accept that."

Scott straightened, and backed away from the desk. "Would you do it again?"

"Knowing what I do now? Of course not. Saying that the removal of the virus proved to be an unmitigated disaster is an understatement. But it was also an occurrence I could not have planned for. I do not, however, regret my decision, Scott. It was the right thing to do given the circumstances."

"I'm glad you can believe that," Scott replied tiredly, and walked to the door. "But you'll have to excuse me if I can't."

----

He'd gone to the hangar after leaving the Professor's office, but not even mechanical work had managed to distract him, though he could usually lose himself for hours playing with the fine-tuning on the jet. Now he was staring at the blank square of his bedroom ceiling, wishing he could go to sleep again. The nightmares that had plagued him since he'd been freed of Apocalypse's possession wouldn't allow him to do that, however. He turned his head to the side to watch his sleeping wife. She was frowning a little in her sleep, and he wondered if he'd been projecting his unease over their rapport. He reached out and gently tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, then climbed out of bed and walked over to the bedroom window, drawing the curtains half open.
He stared out at the moon, half obscured by the snow-frosted roof of the mansion, and sighed. Something in his chest ached, something left behind by the nightmares, he thought. Or maybe just by the conflict that had been stirred up within him. He heard the sound of sheets sliding on the bed, and the soft padding of Jean's feet on the floor a moment later. Her hands were soft and cool as they slid around his torso to hold him from behind, but the rest of her was warm. He could feel her cheek against his shoulder blade.

"Come back to bed," she murmured.

He shook his head slightly. "I'm all right. I just... couldn't sleep."

"Nightmares?"

He didn't reply immediately. Memories flashed across his mind's eye--the sight of desert sand soaked red with blood, his arm, swinging the blade, the feeling of utter elation at the carnage--not his. Nur's. He had to keep reminding himself of that. His stomach clenched and he shivered slightly, pushing the dream away. He felt Jean's concern for him flowing steadily over their rapport. With her, at least, he felt a measure of security, even if he didn't feel comfortable discussing the memories Apocalypse had left behind. They made him feel... tainted. He knew it was not something he could ever truly be free of.

"Ororo told me once, and I don't remember why now, that she wondered if she'd really come here of her own free will, or whether Charles had persuaded her." He hadn't intended to voice the doubts he'd been harboring since his 'discussion' with the Professor, but it was there, bubbling just under the surface, and his chest felt so tight that he thought it would explode if he didn't let something out. This, at the moment, seemed the least painful. "I didn't really understand it at the time, but I think now that it might have been a sort of warning. Maybe she knew what might happen. Or maybe she was looking for reassurance, so she didn't have to face what we're facing now... this doubt. Now she's left--they don't trust him anymore, Jean. And the more I think about it, the more I wonder if I can."
He ran a hand roughly through his hair. "This isn't really even about Nathan anymore... it is, but it's just the tip of the iceberg. Why is it we could never really leave this place? We try, but we never make it. Sense of duty... but is it to the world at large, or is it to him? We've sacrificed everything. Our lives, each other..." His voice caught slightly. "Our children. It's a web I can't get out of, and I just don't think I have anything left to give."

"Scott..." She tightened her arms around him, all the conflict she'd been sensing in him since his return spilling over the dam he'd built to hold it in check. "We'll find Nathan," she said quietly. "We'll help him. And then we'll go away from here. We won't run, we'll walk away. Because you can't be expected to live like this anymore. It's killing you, and that's killing me."

"I'm afraid," he whispered. "I'm afraid of the man I've become Jean, and I'm afraid of what will happen next. I don't know if any of us can save Nathan, and I feel like a failure for that. I don't know if I can walk away from this, because I owe Charles so much."

"Do you really think the Professor wants you to stay here and be miserable? Do you think so badly of him now that you think he'd exact that sort of a price?"

"I don't know anymore," he murmured.

"Scott, look at me." She turned his chin slightly until he faced away from the window and she could see his face. "You've had a falling out. It's normal. No one expects that you're going to see eye to eye on things all the time, especially over something as personal as this. Much as I hate to say this, it's probably been coming for awhile. I know your... experiences while Nur was sharing your body have got you confused," she continued quietly. "Maybe this is just a sign that you need to take some time to work through it? You can't be a good leader when you're feeling this way, and I hate seeing you so conflicted. Please, promise me--once this is over--you'll take some time to deal with this? Even if it means you have to take time away from everyone... myself included?"

He reached out and slid a hand though her hair, cradling her head gently as she rested her cheek against his chest. "All right," he sighed. "It won't come to that, though."

She looked up, and smiled slightly. "Well, I certainly hope not, but if it does, it's all right, Scott. I just want you to be comfortable here, again."

----

Sunlight was painting the walls of their hotel room when Domino finally cracked an eye open. They'd traveled nearly non-stop, from Hong Kong to the northeastern part of Australia, and then down across the continent. They'd been in Perth the day before. She muttered a little, and paused from burying her head in the pillow long enough to notice Nathan already awake and dressed, sitting in one of the room's two chairs. With a sigh, she pushed herself upright.

"You don't have to get up."

"No, it's fine," she replied, untangling herself from the bed sheets. She turned away from him and tugged her shirt upward, only to freeze mid-motion, as if realizing too late she'd made a mistake. The unnatural halt in movement drew his attention to her, and the pink splash of scar visible across her back for an instant before she dropped the fabric back in place.

"Dom..."

"It wasn't you."

"What happened?"

"Nothing." She didn't turn towards him, staring at the wall intently instead.

"Domino."

"Leave me alone, Nathan," she replied acidly.

He stood, walking towards her. "I'm asking, Dom. Tell me."

"Oh, fuck off," she snarled.

He spun her around, grabbing her arms as she tried to swing at him. Her head hit the wall, hard enough for her vision to dim for a moment, and Nate's hands were iron around her wrists. She jerked a little, a futile movement. "Tell me." A cold sort of determination flickered behind his eyes. It wasn't anger or madness, more akin to desperation than anything else. The space between them crackled with an almost tangible energy.

"There's nothing to tell," she hissed back. "I died, I got better."

'Better' seemed subjective. In body she was certainly years younger, of that Nathan was acutely aware. But the mental static he got from her was primal; anger, fear, confusion. Like she'd been dashed to pieces, and couldn't quite pull it all back together again. She was breathing hard and staring at him with wide eyes, as aware of their proximity as he was. Some part of him twisted, horrified at their mutual behavior, screaming to him that this was wrong. Urging him to pull away. The nearly electric tug was stronger, though, and his lips found hers, the damage done. His weight held her to the wall; hands still locked around her wrists. She returned his kiss with equal violence--parts anger, desperation, and lust. Some facet of her seemed to be begging to be hurt.
They dissolved into frenzied, brutal caresses, without kindness or compassion, a frenetic joining that left him shaking afterward, heart pounding even as he sprawled on the bed, skin cooling. Dom lay half curled on her side next to him like something that had been hastily discarded, her hair in disarray, the look in her eyes hollow. A wave of self-loathing slammed into him and he reached for her, ignoring the way she flinched. He pulled her to him, gently but firmly until she rested her head on his shoulder and stopped shaking. Telekinetically dragging the blanket from where it had puddled on the floor, he pulled it over them both. The room was silent except for their breathing, and he tried not to react as he felt the first tear hit his skin. He ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it down, feeling like the biggest bastard in the universe for making her cry, because Dom didn't cry, ever.

She pulled away eventually, her tears dried, leaving their tight reminder on his skin. She gathered her clothes with a tired dignity he had to close his eyes to, waiting in silence behind shut lids until he heard the click of the bathroom door. Then he got up, found his clothes, and tried to straighten the savage disarray of the bed.
There was an ache in him too deep to excise easily. He'd done what he always vowed not to--hadn't asked, just taken--something two decades of familiarity could not excuse. The tide of minds took advantage of his discomfort and surged inward, consuming him. He floundered momentarily, then swam and fought against the current, containing it. He came out of it gasping, clinging physically to the edge of the worn nightstand, seconds passing before he dared move, the voices and the power locked away. Only Domino's mind remained distinct at the other end of the link, its broken edges welded in the heat of their abandon. He felt her touch it, acknowledging and accepting it with the same dull reception with which she took in everything else. After a moment, he withdrew from jumbled static hiss of her thoughts as well. He walked to the window, hands on the sill, gazing passively until he heard her come back into the room.

"I... didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked, guilt thickening his voice.

"Not any more than I did you," she replied, walking over to him. "Just forget it."

He looked at her. "I can't."

"For Christ's sake! What do you want?" She hissed. "For me to make you some sort of bad guy? To make more out of this than there was? If you didn't notice, I wasn't exactly trying to fend you off."

"But--"

"Just--stop it, okay? I'm telling you it's fine, it's fine!"

"It's not fine, Dom!"

She sighed and rested her hand on his arm. "Let's just start over, okay?"

He glanced at her again, uncertainty in his blue-grey eyes. "How?"

"We'll just..." She stopped. "Okay, we're just going to forget this. We've both been stressed way the hell out, and it was bound to come out somewhere. Lesson learned. We'll start fresh. I'm not going to blame you for anything, and you're not going to brood to death over it. Okay?"

"I don't know if..."

"Nate, just... try."

He turned, sliding an arm cautiously around her waist. She rested her head on his chest."Okay."

"Mmm. We weren't careful, you know."

Guilt stabbed at him again. "Sorry..."

"--has no meaning," she interrupted, without venom. "And it's not all your fault. We'll live with it." She let out a slow sigh, and freed herself from the circle of his arms. "I suppose we need to get moving, huh?"

He shook his head. "Nothing pressing for today." He smiled slightly at the look she gave him. "Well, we have been traveling almost non-stop, and as isolated as this is, it's still not a bad place to relax for a day. Might be the last civilization you see for awhile, Dom. It's only fair I give you a chance to enjoy it."

----

They'd spent the day mostly doing the requisite tourist crap. There were sights to see, and kitschy souvenir shops to browse through while Dom openly mocked the merchandise. They'd eaten dinner at the hotel restaurant, and things had seemed almost normal, though he'd been painfully aware how trivial their conversations had remained.
The sun was starting to sink behind the small cluster of buildings that compromised the town center, the ocean beyond the bay turning dark. Domino was walking along the edge of the water, bare feet leaving prints in the wet sand as she stopped here and there, hurling stones and debris far out into the encroaching night, their splashes drowned by the waves.

"Something's bothering you," he said finally, walking to where she stood, eyes locked on the seemingly endless expanse of waves. As the dark swallowed it up, he could almost believe they were standing at the edge of the world.

"Leave me alone," she murmured, and another rock plunked into the deep.

"Your anger drags you down, Dom," he replied. "I'm not the person you hate. Let it go."

"I don't know who you are anymore."

"I'm still me, Dom. I'm still someone who cares about you."

"You certainly showed me how much you cared this morning."

"You said we weren't going to dwell on that," he replied without anger.

Her shoulders slumped a little. "Excuse me if I'm having a hard time."

"Apprehensive?"

"Angry," she replied, turning towards him. The breeze blew her hair around her face, and she raised a hand to brush it back. "I can't believe we were that fucking stupid. What are we, teenagers? We know better."

"It was a mistake."

"Story of our lives, Nathan. And you wonder why I won't let go."

"I don't wonder. I know it's because you're afraid that if you do, you'll have nothing left at all." He held her face gently between his hands and sighed. "I miss... being happy."

She turned away slightly, eyes downcast. "We were ever happy?"

He dropped his hands. "It was a long time ago."

With all the lights extinguished around them, and the stars above, they'd finally left the beach for the hotel. With the door closed behind them, Dom stripped off her clothes and crawled into bed naked. Meeting his hesitancy with a murmured comment about wanting to be held, he'd finally joined her. He wasn't about to begrudge her whatever reassurances she asked for, at this point.
He found it ironic, comforting her from his own mistakes. He remembered that he was not supposed to think of that, or, at least, that he should dwell on it as little as possible. It was hard to forget, knowing there might be consequences. There were already emotional ones. She dozed against him, not quite asleep--he could feel her mind drifting, though, only half-aware of her surroundings as they lay skin on skin. His eyes were drawn to the scars on her back. They were organic looking, as if she'd been scalded, the skin pink and tight and, he thought, probably still painful. So different from the thin surgical scar that was his fault. He wondered, though he wasn't sure he really wanted to know, how long ago she'd been injured.
"Will you tell me how it happened?" A part of him felt that if they could cut away this boundary between then, it would all be all right. The still-rational part of him knew that it would not happen. Still, he asked her.

"It's not the way it looks." It was worse, perhaps; she wasn't sure anymore. After all, she was alive, almost whole. But she couldn't help seeing the blood on a cordoned off section of a busy Paris street, the way she saw it afterward and repeated to herself 'this is where I died,' because she couldn't believe it and had to. She knew he saw it as well, and she continued letting the images play across her mind for him, because she could never find the words for it.

His arms tightened around her. Much of what he saw was confusion. He could still sense her shock, and the terrible conflict of realizing that she'd wanted to be dead, but, alive again, she couldn't give up on life. "Dom..." He put years worth of regret into her name, and pressed his lips to the black satin of her hair.

"It's no one's fault."

He knew she was right, and thought it must be the worst thing of all.

----

He lay awake, staring at the ceiling long after Dom had pulled away and drifted off, thoughts tumbling through his brain. He didn't feel tired, and didn't completely trust himself after his loss of control. He turned his head, watching Domino sleep until the sounds of morning penetrated the silence of their room, and her eyes blinked slowly open.
She hadn't slept well, tossing and turning next to him all night long, her nightmares making her restless, often close to consciousness. Even if he had not had evidence, he would have known by her hollow eyes.

"Are you all right?" He touched her hair lightly, as intimate a gesture as he would allow himself.

"Still healing. I'm tired, Nathan, but I'll live."

"I pushed you too hard. I should have--"

"There wasn't time. I know, Nathan. And really, it's been, what," She mentally counted backwards "A month? More than that, since Akkaba. If I hadn't been acting like such a self-destructive bitch, I'd be fine by now."

He nodded slightly. "One more trip. It's short. Then you can have all the time you need." He sat up. "We need to get some supplies before we head out there."

"And we've dawdled here long enough, I assume," she replied. "Let me catch a quick shower, and I'll be ready to go."

----

It was an uncomfortable feeling, like a prickling on the back of his neck. He did his best to ignore it as he and Dom wandered about the small grocery, picking up the last of the supplies they needed before heading out to the safehouse. But the niggling feeling kept dogging him, and finally hit him full force with the glare of the young cashier at the counter. It wasn't a glare directed at him, but rather at Domino, and the pure disdain in the thoughts that bombarded his shields made his vision go red.

"Nate?" He heard Dom's voice, concerned, as if through layers of cotton. He swallowed, and clenched his hands in fists, trying to fight back the urge to just mindwipe the kid on the spot. The cashier seemed oblivious to his own peril.

"Nathan!"

The bark of his name from her lips punched through the cotton, punctuated by the pain of her thumbnail in his arm, sharp, drawing blood. He drew back, receding into himself, damping the crackling energy that pushed at his seams. His vision opened wide again from black, and he watched her thumb move to her mouth as she sucked away the red stain.


"That was uncalled for Nate," Dom murmured as she grabbed up their bags and led him out of the store.

"He was--" Nathan cast a glance back through the plate glass of the storefront at the cashier. "If you knew the kinds of things he was thinking..."

"About me."

"Yeah."

"You're not the jealous type, Nate."

"It wasn't--they weren't nice things, Dom."

"Oh." She paused. "Well, we are in the middle of nowhere, Nate. Small town. I suppose it figures, given how paranoid the world has gotten. We're leaving soon anyway."

"I know, it's just..."

"Not worth it, Nate. He's not worth it."

----

They packed up the old truck Nathan had acquired the day before--it was rusting, and the suspension had seen better days, but it was more than adequate for their needs--and pulled out of town near noon. It took several hours of driving with nothing but untouched grasslands on either side of them before they finally neared a small structure set well off the already meager road.

"Nice," she commented dryly as they pulled up beside the white cinderblock structure. There was a small weedy clearing around it that melted into the surrounding grassland. Nathan got out of the truck.

"There's more underground," he replied as he walked over and unlocked the door. She followed him inside.

Light filtered into the room sickly from the high windows, rendered nearly opaque with accumulated dirt. There were only a few bland furnishings in the room--a table, some chairs, a cot against the wall. Nathan crossed to the center of the room and raised the trap door. "It'll be better down here."

There was a short staircase and a sealed door at the bottom, a small burst of stale air hitting them as it swung open. Nate hit several switches near the entrance and the lights came on overhead, the low thrum of the generator reverberating as if from far away. The entrance opened onto a small kitchen and sitting area, with a bathroom and bedroom down a short hall. It seemed pretty typical of one of Nathan's safehouses--efficient, well provisioned, and ready for use. Unglamorous, but it served its purpose.

They used up the rest of the day unpacking and cleaning the building above. Lying in the pitch black next to Nathan that night, Domino felt unfixed from the world. It seemed, at best, a murky reality, and fairly high on the list of worst possible scenarios, though it would be weeks still before they knew just how bad it would end up being. Sensing her unease, no doubt, Nathan reached for her, arms drawing securely around her. He kissed her temple once and murmured something indistinct and comforting.
She had his love, at least. It was one thing the reforged link had given her, the knowledge that she had not faded from his affections. That proof, however, made their current situation more painful. She was convinced that she could not do anything to save him from this.

----

Nathan was as good as his word, letting her sleep well into the next day, for which Dom was thankful. Whatever respiratory illness she'd managed to give herself seemed finally to be nearly gone, and the extra sleep had done wonders for getting over the rapid series of time changes they'd made since Nathan had asked her to join him. She wasted a few more hours belowground before finally going topside to look for Nate. She found him finally, sitting on the grass on top of a small rise, a few meters from the building. She sat down next to him wordlessly.

"My mother spent some time out here," he said finally, breaking the silence between them.

"Jean did?"

"Madelyne. I met her, finally, you know. The her Grey brought back. She came to see me."

"What did she want?"

He looked away. "To use me," he replied flatly. "Everyone wants to--use me."

"I don't, Nathan. You know that. I've never wanted you for anything but yourself."

"I know. That's... why I wanted you here. I wanted to bring Sam... that would have been nice. We could have--" He stopped. "I don't know... Oath, it was stupid of me. He'd want to help too much for his own good anyway, and we're not just some flonqing happy..." He laughed brittlely. "I can't just use you as replacement parts. He's not Tyler, you're not--" He cut off abruptly. "I didn't mean it like that."

She leaned against his shoulder. "I know. So, what were you doing out here?"

"I was... thinking. About endings. That time in Negev, when we thought it was all over?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"I was thinking that... maybe it would have been better that way."

"Better?" She asked, glancing at him.

"If it had ended. Everything, I mean. We cause each other all so much pain... sometimes I think living is a mistake." He looked out over the landscape, toward the setting sun. "I could do it, you know," he said quietly.

"Nathan..."

"I'm serious. I could..." He reached out, palm upward. "I could turn off the sun, Dom. I could crush it down, wipe us all out. This would be a very quiet corner of the universe."