Authors notes: This story was encouraged, plotted with, betaed by, and written for the wonderful Alicia M, who asked me to break Nate for her. And really, who can resist a challenge like that? Further thanks go out to Lyssie for the additional beta work, and several people who provided odd details to be included. If this story messes with your mind, I've accomplished what I set out to do.
Further notes: This story is set during X-Force's time at the mansion, between issues 45 and 46, or thereabouts, though it does slide into a slight AU.
Disclaimer: Marvel owns them, I don't. Don't sue.
Light Years
by Timesprite
She'd been driving for hours. There were knots in her back, and her knuckles ached from clinging to the steering wheel. A headache was lacing through her skull from focusing too hard on the little fuzzy spot in the back of her head that was the link with Nathan. As new as it was, as unfamiliar as she remained with all things telepathic, she could still tell when he was shielding. He was shielding like hell now, not that it would really do him any good. She had a pretty good idea of his whereabouts, as she'd bullied Jean into pinpointing his location without actually telling the other woman why she was so desperate to find him. Sure, in theory a little backup might have been a smart thing to bring, but she'd very quickly learned that none of Nate's family was terribly helpful in situations like this. In fact, they tended to make it exponentially worse. Between Jean's well-meaning but heavy-handed mothering, and Scott's awkward discomfort with anything involving his wayward son, Nathan would have fled the moment they got near enough for him to sense. She, at least, had a chance, though it was only slightly better than the proverbial snowball in hell's.
Right now, all Domino could do was pray he wouldn't decide to close her out like he had been since this whole incident had begun. A part of herself was angry at not being more forceful with him. She'd *known* something was insanely wrong, she'd *felt* it on a visceral level thanks to the bond they now shared, but she'd been stupid enough to believe he'd come to her when he was ready. It didn't help that the smarter, wiser, and more detached part of her knew he would have only rabbited sooner if she'd pressed him. The feeling of failure remained just the same. She should have protected him better. It was her *job,* after all. Nate had to save the fucking world, and she had to save him. Not that she'd ever tell him she'd decided to be his self-appointed guardian. On a good day, he might have laughed. Today wasn't a good day. It hadn't been a good week. Her stomach clenched a little. God, had it only been a week? The nightmare seemed to have been going on forever.
Earlier
"Xavier's sources have indicated that the school has been receiving anonymous threats for weeks now. We've managed to narrow it down, and the most likely perpetrator seems to be our old pals at the Friends of Humanity. They've spoken out publicly against it, voicing their concern that such a school needlessly puts humans into contact with mutants who could be infected with Legacy." Cable rested his hands on the War Room's table, eyes skimming over the holographic display of the school's grounds. "Obviously, we were expecting this sort of backlash now that news of the virus is public."
"And the FoH are jumping on it as a way to package their message in a more publicly acceptable wrapping," Domino mused from where she leaned against the far wall.
"Exactly. Obviously, this is something Xavier has concerns over. The last thing we want is someone focusing their attention *here.*"
"Is that really something we have to worry about? I would have thought the professor would have his tracks covered."
"For the most part, Roberto, he does. Problem is, there's a chance, however small, that someone could uncover a past roster, or make a few connections. It's not one he--or I, for that matter--are willing to take. Besides, this school is exactly the kind of place Xavier wants to help foster--a place where mutants and humans are interacting together, without fear. Where everyone's needs are being met."
"So how exactly do *we* fit into this?"
"*We* are going to do a little surveillance, Jimmy. Rumors are pointing to the FoH making a move against the school itself. We're going to see if we can't frustrate those plans."
Jimmy gave him a skeptical look. "*Without* the rest of the team?"
"It's a stealth mission. I'd rather not be seen if we don't absolutely have to be. Smaller numbers the better. We don't need half a dozen mutants crashing through the bushes like bull elephants. I think you boys are capable of covertness if you put your minds to it. I'd take Shatterstar, but he's still in the medlab. Tabitha, frankly, wouldn't know stealth if it bit her on the ass, and given her recent ...indiscretions, Dom and I have decided it's best she sit this one out. We can use your eyes and ears, Jimmy, and I'm hoping Roberto will able to restrain his newfound... enthusiasm enough to assist us," he continued, glancing sidelong at Sunspot.
The young man in question gave him a thumbs up. "You can count on me, Cable. I just don't know if I like running errands for Xavier."
"Better get used to it, kid. We're going to be working a lot closer with him *and* the X-Men from now on."
Now
With the futilely dampened link glowing like a beacon in the back of her skull, Domino finally pulled the car off to the side of the rustic road and got out, crossing the ditch and stepping into the darkened forest beyond. The smell of pine needles was sharp, enfolding her as they crunched under foot. The trees towered upward all around her, here and there making room for a stray beam from the full moon to pierce the darkness. It was in the midst of one of those heavenly spotlights that she found Nathan, his hair glinting in the light, face upraised in contemplation. She stepped into the ring of moonlight, hesitating for a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge her. He didn't, and she cursed under her breath. She'd been hanging to the scant hope that she might find him in a cooperative mood. Or at least a better on than he'd left the mansion in. Obviously, that wasn't going to be the case.
"Nate, what are you doing out here?" 'Aside from driving me mad,' she thought bleakly, and it crossed her mind for the thousandth time that this just wasn't like him. He might not have let things go as easily as he sometimes pretended to, but it wasn't often he dwelled on them to the point of obsession, either. No, that level of devotion was reserved for one thing, and one thing only, and as tragic as what had happened had been, it certainly had nothing to do with his mission.
"It's quiet," he said, head dropping so that he stared into the darkness between the trees instead of the stars above.
"Obviously," she replied. "But it's after midnight. You could have at least left me a note before you took off. I was worried," she admitted, hoping it would get some sort of reaction. She didn't usually give voice to those sorts of emotions, *especially* ones concerning Nathan.
He tipped his head a little, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "I needed to be somewhere else."
"Well, that's great, Nathan," she replied, trying her damnedest not to get angry at him. "I still would have appreciated a 'Hey, Dom. Taking a vacation. Don't panic,' from you. Why here, anyway? And don't tell me it's quiet again. I get that much."
"He loved this place," he replied after a pause. His voice echoed through the trees, gravely, strained sounding. "Well, not this one, exactly. But a place like it. I can see why."
"Who?" She took a step closer, the knot in her stomach tightening in realization. "Nathan... it wasn't your fault."
He turned his head to look at her fully, this time. "Wasn't it? If I had been faster--"
"You did the best you could, Nate," she replied, crossing the soft bed of shed needles to where he stood. "He came out of nowhere. It's not your *fault* some creep with a gun shot at the first movement he saw."
"I just--I *tried* Dom... But I scared him. I just wanted him to stay safe, and I scared him into running. If I had been--there had to be another way, but I just didn't..."
"Nate, what are you talking about?" She touched his arm, concerned.
"I--" He looked down at her, and the misery apparent in his face struck Domino to the very core. "I knew he was there," he said finally, his voice a harsh whisper in the night silence of the forest. "He'd been exploring, when it started. The noises scared him. I didn't want him to run, I wanted to tell him to stay where he was, but I startled him, and he ran. He ran right into the path of that flonqing bullet, and it's my fault."
Earlier
The school was about what one would have expected--comparable to Xavier's with its red brick and ivy, though considerably smaller in actual size. It sat at the end of a long, shaded drive, in the center of a clearing ringed by old-growth trees that spoke of centuries in private hands. The only outward signs of its conversion from stately manor to alternative education center were the bright works of art in some of the lower-story windows and the colorful playground equipment scattered on the back lawn. A back lawn currently occupied by a dozen or so of the school's younger students, waiting to be taken home for the day.
It seemed a very unlikely place for the mutant strike force that currently hunched around the perimeter, just out of sight along the trees.
For Cable, the feelings the scene evoked were difficult to describe. There was a sense of wonder at seeing how little these children cared about the differences between them--black, white, green, it made no difference. But there was an edge of anger at knowing the only reason he was there to witness something he'd long felt could only be a pipedream was because other men had threatened to destroy it. They hadn't been able to ascertain just what the Friends of Humanity intended to do, but they knew they were going to make their move soon. Watching the children on the playground, he hoped they could stop whatever the FoH had planed without an actual conflict.
"Well, what do you know," Domino's amused voice piped over the headset. "Maybe all of Xavier's talk isn't just blowing smoke out his ass."
He chuckled. "Occasionally. It's good to see, huh?"
"Oh, hell yeah. If only everyone could be so unbiased."
"Children don't know the difference, Dom. Adults have to teach them how to hate."
"Yeah. Makes me want to knock a few heads together," she muttered before falling silent again. Nathan rocked back on his heels and continued to watch. If only it could be this simple. Decades of experience, sadly, had shown him otherwise.
And then his reverie, and the afternoon, were irreparably shattered by a gunshot. He was on his feet and moving even as chaos erupted on the playground. Hysterical children were screaming, and panicked faculty members had sprinted from the building to herd the kids inside. One of them scooped up an older girl, who had moments before been telekinetically pushing several of the smaller children on the large swing set, blood dripping down her arm as the teacher hauled her inside.
"What the hell just happened?" Dom's voice sounded sharp over the headset.
"I don't know!" he shouted back. "I guess the FoH decided today was a good day to drop by."
"You didn't sense them?"
"No," he growled. "Maybe they're psi-shielded... Bobby, get airborne, see if you can pinpoint anyone. Jimmy, watch your back. I've got no flonqing clue where anyone is. Dom--"
"Already moving, Nate."
There was another spatter of gunfire somewhere in the trees, and he caught a glimpse of Sunspot overhead as he fought his way through the undergrowth towards the direction of the original shot. Finally, he gave up and dove out into the clearing, making himself an instant target. Still, if they were shooting at him, they weren't shooting at the rest of the team, who couldn't just toss up a TK shield to protect themselves. The playground was empty now, the teachers and students secluded in the relative safety of the building. The police had probably already been called--which meant they didn't want to waste too much time fighting with these men.
"We've got three down, Nate," Dom reported as he started scanning the tree line again, hoping whoever had shot the girl hadn't fled yet. He somehow doubted that course of action had been approved by the higher-ups in the organization. "Not sure how many others there are, though."
"'Berto?"
"Nothing, Cable, sorry. Tree cover is too thick. Someone was firing shots off towards the east side of the school, though."
"Already on my way." He was scanning ahead, frustrated that he couldn't sense them when another mind blazed into his awareness. Terrified, hiding in the bushes where he'd no doubt been playing when his classmate had been shot. He reached out instinctively to keep the boy from running, knowing there was likely a trigger-happy FoH lurking in the shadows, and he himself was too far away to do anything with his telekinesis.
The mind he touched panicked, and he took off at a sprint, hoping to catch the boy before he broke cover. An instant later, he registered a flash in the gloom, the report cracking loudly in his ears, drowning out the sound of his own cry as a mop of gold hair broke through the greenery, staggered, and fell.
He lashed out blindly, reaching deep into his own depths and unleashing years of repressed grief and rage into a telekinetic fist that threw the young man standing with a rifle at the clearing's edge backward into the thick trunk of a nearby oak, the body breaking with a sick, wet snap.
The world seemed to go silent around him then as he sunk to his knees beside the boy's small body, red stain expanding in the center of his grey sweatshirt. Blue eyes flickered open once, but there was no real awareness left in his mind, only shock and pain and a rushing emptiness that pulled them both under.
From the far end of the clearing, Domino heard the gunshot, followed by Cable's cry, and set out at a dead run. The scene that greeted her made bile burn the back of her throat. An FoH member lay a few yards off, body such a mangled, pulverized heap she didn't waste time checking for a pulse. Nathan was kneeling in the grass, the techno-organic virus running wildly across his body, holding the limp body of a boy who couldn't have been more than seven years old. One look at Nathan's face told her the boy was already dead. Sirens were approaching in the distance, and biting her lip, Dom reached out, tentatively touching Nate's unaffected right side. He didn't react, and she cursed silently. He looked like he was in some kind of shock. Behind her, Bobby had landed quietly on the grass, and Jimmy was joining them at a jog across the clearing. Both stopped a few feet away, watching silently.
"Damnit, Nate... snap out of it." She jostled his shoulder a little more, jabbing at their psilink best as she could in hopes of getting some sort of reaction out of him and trying her hardest not to panic at the way the virus was acting up. "Nathan!"
Finally, he looked up at her, then dropped his head back down to stare at the lifeless body in his lap. "Dom..."
"I know," she said softly. "But there's not anything more we can do here, and you need to focus on the virus right now."
He glanced to his arm and stared at it as if he hadn't even felt the T-O's encroachment. Gently, Dom lifted the small body from his lap, laying the boy in the grass. "Jimmy, give Nate a hand back to the plane," she said, not looking up, voice strained as she tried to keep her emotions in check.
"Sure thing," he replied in a tone as subdued as her own.
She took a deep breath, noted that the sirens were louder now, and climbed to her feet. Turning her back on the dead boy, she crossed the clearing, Roberto a silent as a shadow at her side. It seemed impossible to believe that only fifteen minutes earlier children had been laughing in this place. It was hung now with a silence thick as oil, and it seemed even more impossible that anyone would ever laugh here again.
The aftermath hadn't been pretty. Domino hadn't expected it to--she'd been on one to many missions gone wrong to expect anything else, but it was the first time they'd lost a civilian with any of the kids present, which was just one more worry to add to the pile. Walking off the plane, she'd felt older than she had in ages. Her more cynical side noted that they'd gotten far too used to happy endings.
Nate's disappearance had left her with the task of filling Xavier in on what happened, not something she'd looked forward to. She didn't know him well, and what she did know didn't make her inclined to like him very much. Giving him the news that things had gone hideously wrong had been nerve-wracking in a way she wasn't used to. In the end, though, he'd understood, and the obvious pain on his face made her amend her opinion slightly. Charles Xavier's personal philosophy may have been questionable in her mind, but she couldn't deny he had a heart. She rolled her shoulders and turned the corner, heading towards the kitchen. Nate hadn't been in his room, and intuition told her she'd likely find him there. It was late, and seemed the least likely place to invite unwelcome company. She wasn't disappointed, and stopped in the doorway to contemplate his hunched form for several moments before speaking.
"Enjoying the dark?"
Nathan looked up at her but didn't reply, slumping in his chair with a resigned weariness. He'd vanished into his room shortly after their return, either to sleep or brood, ignoring her suggestion that he let McCoy give him a once-over. She hadn't liked the dazed state he'd been in the entire way back, or the fact that he'd lost control of the virus--apparently without even realizing it. Something more had happened at the school than she was aware of, but she wasn't yet ready to pry.
"Did you talk to the boys?" He asked finally as she took a seat across from him. He was nursing a cup of coffee, though she wouldn't venture to guess how much was really Jack Daniels at this point.
"Yeah. They're both a little shaken, but they realize there wasn't anything we could have done differently." She leaned her chin on one hand and watched him for a long moment. "I know asking if you're okay is a stupid question--"
"I--" He stopped, took a swallow of coffee, then sighed, shoulders slumping. "I slept some. Didn't really help."
She nodded. "Look, Nate. I'm not going to pry here. You know that *I* know that this probably stirs up ugly memories for you. If you need to talk, I'm here, okay?" She reached across the table and squeezed his hand gently, then released it and stood. "It's been a long day. I'm going to bed."
"Dom... wait."
She stopped halfway to the door and turned to face him. His expression was haggard, and she was sorely tempted to coax him into going back to bed. "Nate..."
"I--" He trailed off, head dropping, and she half-heard him mumble something to himself that sounded like 'so cold' from that distance.
Frowning, she crossed the room and hooked an arm under one of his own, tugging gently. "C'mon. We've both had a hell of a day, and you look like your nap didn't do the trick." He rose sluggishly, and she realized just how exhausted he really was. Something was obviously really upsetting him--the link was bubbling darkly in the back of her mind, though she couldn't get a clear fix on anything--and her gut was telling her that something more serious had just happened than she'd initially suspected. Half-dragging her partner along--no easy feat given his bulk--Domino got them as far as the wing X-Force had invaded, and hauled Nate into her room. Appearances be damned; hers was the closest, and given the way Nate was hanging on her, she somewhat doubted he'd object to sharing a bed. She parked him on the edge of the mattress and detached herself. "Stay put. I'll be right back." A quick jog down to the other end of the hall later, she offered up the pajama pants and tee-shirt she'd acquired from his room and busied herself digging her own out of the dresser while he changed. Had they not both been so run down at this point, she mused, this could have been awkward. Ever since Negev, they'd been making wary circles around each other, not sure whether or not the admissions made there were better left alone. None of that mattered now, though. All she wanted was to make sure Nate got the rest he obviously needed, and she prayed tomorrow wouldn't bring any dire consequences along with the morning news.
Now
Staring up at Nathan--at his wretched expression--a hundred replies sprang to mind but none of them passed her lips, her voice locked in silence. There wasn't much she could say to an admission like that, really. She could tell him it wasn't his fault, again, but she didn't think he really believed it was. He was just caught in that pain of knowing he'd done what he should have--done everything he could have, to no avail. There was nothing worse, she thought, than watching one's best efforts come to nothing. She looked up to watch dark clouds scuttle across the brilliant moon and shivered as the wind bit through her thin jacket. She squeezed his arm lightly. "Nate, we should get out of here. I don't think the weather's going to hold."
"Dom, please... I don't--" His voice was rough, and he stopped short, jaw tensing in a way that indicated he was fighting some inward battle he wasn't about to disclose.
"Not back to Westchester," she promised. She wasn't the only one who'd noticed his increasingly odd behavior, and his sudden disappearance would demand answers. From the look of him, that was about the last thing he needed, too. Luckily enough, there was one of Nathan's numerous boltholes a reasonable distance away. It couldn't hurt to drag him off for a few days to see if it helped the situation any. She was starting to get a sinking feeling that it might not--his behavior had gotten fairly extreme, even considering what had taken place, and his admission that he'd been in telepathic contact with the boy had unsettled something inside of her. She'd give him the benefit of time and quiet before she made any further judgment, though. He deserved that much, at least.
She was almost beginning to regret that patient streak an hour and miles later. Granted, he obviously wasn't in the best frame of mind, but showing a little gratitude would have been nice. Playing chauffer wasn't one of her favorite activates, especially when the passenger kept telekinetically turning the radio off. Part of her thought, vindictively, that it'd serve the bastard right if she drifted off and ran the car off the road. She glanced at Nathan across the dim car interior.
"So, I take it you're not interested in talking about any of this..." When in doubt, try picking a fight. It usually worked on Nate, anyway. She'd gotten pretty good at pushing his buttons. "Because I'd really like to know just what it is you're not telling me." Silence greeted the statement, and she scowled. "Nathan."
"What?" He didn't so much as turn to look at her, his voice belligerent.
"Y'know what? Forget it," she sighed. "This can just wait for the morning." Not that she thought it would be any easier then, but she'd stand a better chance of not losing her temper and slugging him if she slept first. Besides, the drive was going to take most of her concentration. She didn't care to pitch the car off a winding mountain road, though that would certainly solve the problem, she thought grimly. Better to concentrate on getting them to the safehouse in one piece. She'd worry about how she was going to keep him there later. Although, if it rained the way the sky seemed to be threatening it would, she might not have to worry about that. Coming down the mountain would be more of a hazard than going up. It could work. She didn't really have much of a plan in mind, aside from a vague fantasy that involved pummeling him for worrying her like this, but keeping him isolated seemed a good start. And she figured the Blue Ridge mountains were certainly remote enough for that.
She had no idea where he'd left the car he'd driven down from Westchester. There hadn't been any sign of it, and she'd had more important things to worry about at the time. It was probably telling that she'd packed some of his clothes before she'd left the mansion. Nathan was still staring vacantly out the passenger side window, though there was nothing to see save the occasional blue flash of lightning in the distance. Rain was spitting down intermittently on the windshield, and she had the disquieting feeling that despite Nathan's indisputable presence, she was utterly alone in the car.
Earlier
"--set the autopilot. Keep an eye on it. Nathan..."
The voice came at him as if from a great distance, disrupted by the searing cold that closed in around him, squeezing the breath from his lungs. His eyes slid shut, blurred surroundings giving way to darkness.
"--the virus--"
The voice wavered, piercing the black fog and fading again into roaring nothingness, pitching on invisible waves...
"Nathan!"
He jumped, his eyes snapping open. His vision swam for a moment before focusing on Dom's worried face. "What?"
"Virus." There was a tap on his left hand. "We discussed this already."
He looked down at his arm, but he didn't need the visual proof. He could feel the cold spread of the virus through his body, even through that other, all encompassing chill that seemed to be numbing his brain. They had...
...he remembered green and a flash of yellow in the sun and....
The smell of blood was sharp, but he couldn't see anymore, the cold destroyed his sight as well, turning everything to black--
He shook himself, pulling himself back with an almost physical effort, the plane's interior returning to him, Domino's eyes fixed on him with silent worry. Swallowing past the sudden taste of bile in his throat, he concentrated, shoving the virus back to its accustomed territory.
"That's better."
And in his peripheral vision, Dom settled back against her seat.
"Are you all right?"
He nodded. He wasn't, but he nodded anyway because there was no way to describe the way the cold was freezing his insides, sharp ice crystals that seemed to cut at his mind.
He heard her sigh.
Now
She punched agitatedly at her pillow and rolled onto her back. The link was buzzing like an angry hornet's nest in the back of her mind, making it clear that Nate wasn't nearly as 'fine' as he'd claimed to be. She was half tempted to elbow him in the ribs and call him on the whole thing, but she was afraid that if she did he might just shield the link again. Afraid, because in the short time it had existed, she'd become used to the psilink, and the muffled cotton feeling she got when he shielded made her uneasy. She'd come to rely on it for the kind of reassurance neither of them could express with words.
Beside her, Nate murmured, and before she could make much more than a meager attempt to fend him off, he'd half-dragged her to his side of the bed, arms firmly wrapped around her waist. She would have been annoyed, but he was still fast asleep. She sighed. He got grabby when something was bothering him, she knew that much from experience, and it wasn't something she could really reprimand him for... especially not when he started whimpering like a kicked puppy. Cursing under her breath, she managed to get herself turned around, and brushed a hand lightly along the side of his face. "Nate," she murmured softly, and concentrated on pouring as much calm down the link as she could muster, trying to drown out whatever was chasing him behind those closed lids.
Another person might have been inclined to feel used over the whole thing, but she knew Nathan's affection was something he did not give easily--not for any lack of it, but because he'd been hurt because of it far too often to ever take it lightly. She wasn't the sort of person who accepted any sort of affection easily, anyway. But this--this was something private. It was a role only she could fill, and that gave a sense of purpose to a life that had been largely aimless. He needed her, and that was repayment enough, as far as she was concerned.
Earlier
_"I want to come with you."_
_"You can't."_
He pushed himself to his feet as the plane touched down, Domino a step behind him, as if she feared he'd fall. He steadied himself against the pull of gravity, defying it, placing his feet carefully on ground he couldn't feel beneath him, so illusory it felt as he descended the stairs and stepped into the hanger.
_"Why not?"_
The ground felt as if it might crack under his feet at any moment.
_"It's just a raiding party..." Guileless blue eyes stared up at him from behind unruly blond hair. "Daaad..."_
"Nate?"
He stopped, turning slowly, trying to keep the paper thin reality from tearing around him. "Yeah?"
"Maybe you should let Hank have a look at you?"
He shook his head. "I'm fine." Just cold. "Handle the boys?" It was making him lethargic. He needed to close his eyes...
_"*Just* a raiding party. Your mother would kill me."_
"Sure. You're sure you're okay..."
"Yes." No. Of course not. He had... blue eyes and blond hair had bled to death in his lap.
The floor was fracturing beneath him now, trying to swallow him up with that cold born from the depths of hell... the final irony, there was no fire there...
The deep breath he took split something in the frozen core of his chest, but the world snapped hard into crystal clarity, his boots impacting the floor as he dragged himself step after step to his room and collapsed on the bed without shedding his bloodied uniform.
Now
The safehouse was minimally provisioned--rations, canned and dried goods. Nathan made a habit of keeping the places in good repair, at least. With the way it was pouring, picking up groceries was out of the question. Of course, aid was really only a call away, but she wanted to work this out herself. She'd been quietly harboring a grudge over all the laying in Xavier and Jean had been doing--if subtly--to Nathan over his powers, and she wasn't keen on handing him back over just yet. All of this would be rendered academic, of course, if she couldn't get him to crack a little. At the moment, he was doing an admirable impression of a brick wall. Nothing was showing through the armor he'd built up.
"If I make this, you going to eat it?" That earned her a noncommittal shrug, though she doubted he'd actually snub anything she put in front of him. Especially since oatmeal was one of the few things she could make decently. "Nate, I understand you're... upset. But I'm going to toss you out in the rain if you don't stop this monosyllabic grunting thing you've got going here." She glanced over her shoulder again. "Coffee?"
"You have to ask?"
"Well, I don't know. Given your current behavior..."
"Coffee would be nice," he amended, sounding suitably admonished, and Dom dug out two mugs while muttering under her breath about puppy-dog looks.
She eyed the ceramic critically, then swiped at them both with a towel before filling them, did likewise for the two bowls she dumped the oatmeal in, and deposited Nathan's half in front of him before going back for her own. She added a good measure of sugar to her bowl, then sat down across from him. "I'm still not pleased with you for taking off like that."
He stared down at his breakfast and sighed. "I should have said something."
"Yeah, you should have," she replied between mouthfuls. "You know, if you'd told me, I would have come with you."
"I wasn't exactly thinking about it," he replied. "I just... needed to be somewhere else."
"This is really bothering you, isn't it?"
"Yes!" he growled, fist hitting the table hard enough to make the dishes jump.
She leaned back in her chair, startled by the sudden outburst. Well, she thought wryly, this was better than the grunting, at least. For a split second, he'd been more himself than he had since the whole mess had begun. "Understandable," she replied after a moment. "It's just... well, we watch people die all the time, Nate. This isn't even the first time a kid has gotten caught in the crossfire."
"I suppose you want me to feel nothing, then?"
The distance was back in his eyes, and she cursed silently. "No! I would *never* imply that, Nathan. But it's been a week."
"And I could have prevented it," he said, standing.
The finality in his voice warned her not to pursue the matter as he turned and left the kitchen. She finished the rest of her oatmeal, then collected the dishes from the table and deposited them in the sink. Through the window, she saw him exit the front door and walk out onto the veranda. "What the hell is going on with you, Nate?"
The empty kitchen had no reply.
Earlier
Rest had restored some clarity of thought, if not well-being. Nathan found himself disgusted with his own loss of control. A little psionic shock was one thing, but he'd been bordering on delusional for awhile there, and that was unacceptable. The short time he'd slept--while restless and turbulent--had at least given him the energy to patch the hairline fractures that had appeared in his shields, hopefully before any of the other psis in the household picked up on it. The rest he had simply walled up until he found the energy to figure out just what the hell he'd done to himself. He didn't want help with this--not after all the lecturing he'd been getting since he'd moved X-Force to the mansion. He could handle this... he just needed to find the energy.
The coffee currently in front of him wasn't doing it. Not that he had unrealistic expectations as to the powers of caffeine, but he'd stumbled down to the dark, deserted kitchen as much in hope of clearing the fuzzy edges of his thoughts as a need for some comfort from the cold that seemed to leak around the edges of its prison. He stared down at the dark surface of the liquid, his face reflected back as a sallow, hollow-eyed mask.
"Enjoying the dark?"
He didn't lift his head immediately. He could feel Domino's eyes on him, a whisper of her concern drifting to him across the link they shared. He heard her light footsteps on the tile, and the chair across from him scrape against the floor before he finally looked up. She'd changed out of her uniform and into a worn tee-shirt, more gray than black from repeated washings. He liked her best that way, casual, with some of her danger buried for awhile... "Did you talk to the boys?" He asked, dragging his thoughts back into some semblance of order.
"Yeah. They're both a little shaken, but they realize there wasn't anything we could have done differently." The comment forced him to fight down a flinch--she didn't know, and he didn't think she saw the reaction, because though she leaned forward on one elbow, her expression was neutral. "I know asking if you're okay is a stupid question--"
He wanted to laugh. Oh, it was the truth, certainly. And she was doing such a wonderful job of not pushing him. She was concerned, but she wasn't pushing, and he wanted to thank her for that, because he'd come to depend on it, as much as she'd come to depend on him for the same. Sometimes, though, he thought they'd gotten far too good at the game, and not pushed when the slightest pressure would have caved in a thousand invisible fractures that never healed left on their own... For now, though, he was just tired and grateful for her presence. "I--" He stopped short, and took a healthy swallow of coffee, which had gone lukewarm in the cup. "I slept some. Didn't really help."
She nodded, and he wondered what she would do if he got up and dragged her from that chair, folding her in against his chest tightly, just to see if it eased the ache there, if he could use her like a bandage over the wounded part of him, the place the cold had left raw and painful, the cold that was trying to escape... could she warm that away?
"--ugly memories for you. If you need to talk, I'm here, okay?" Her hand touched his briefly, a quick squeeze, and then she was away from him, backing toward the door. "It's been a long day. I'm going to bed."
"Dom... wait." His words stopped her, and she was waiting, waiting on him to say something, but the words and actions in his head didn't make any sense anymore.
"Nate..."
"I--" 'Please,' he thought, staring at the table top. 'If you could just take this away, because it's so cold and I can't--'
And then her hands were on him again, gently urging him to his feet, her arms as reassuring as he thought they'd be.
Now
The way the rain poured down all around him was disturbing on some primal level. It pounded down so... mercilessly. He'd never gotten used to it. It felt as if the constant hiss might swallow him, while all around him, the landscape appeared as if fresh-painted in oils, glossy and bright and so far removed from where he was. He watched it without really processing any of it. Everything had taken on a distinctly muffled feel.
He pressed his palms against closed lids. "I failed him, Jen," he murmured to the rain. "I promised I'd take care of him..." A clap of thunder reverberated through the surrounding mountains. "I just keep failing."
He was aware of Dom flickering at the edges of his perception like a phantom, like something not altogether a part of reality. Or was it simply that he was the one fading in and out of touch?
"How much of this is about Tyler?"
He blinked and Dom was there, sitting on the porch railing, rain dripping off the roof-edge behind her. Balanced there, legs swinging, she looked innocent and carefree, the knowledge that she was neither painful. "Some"
"I figured." She swept her long hair back over her shoulder with one hand, rock-steady on the slender rail. "There was... a passing resemblance."
He looked past her to the rain-cloaked mountains. "He's out there, somewhere."
"He's an adult, Nathan..."
"He's hurt," he replied. "Sick in a way that he can't help. That's my fault."
"You said you had no choice."
"That's right." He stopped. "No, it's not *right.* I knew what Stryfe had done to him. I could have killed him, Dom. If I had--"
Two soft 'thumps' as she pushed herself clear of the railing to stand in front of him. Her dark eyes were unguarded, he could see the emotions she was struggling to keep buried as easily as he could her concern. "He's your son, Nathan. No one would have expected you to. You had every right to believe he could be helped, that he still *can.*"
"And if he can't? If he never could have been? Whatever Stryfe may have done, *I* damaged him myself when I severed that link. He blames me for that. He should. What kind of life did I condemn him to? After I promised his mother--I promised Jen..."
"Nate," she touched his face lightly, palm warm against his cheek, voice barely more than a whisper, "don't do this to yourself. Please."
Earlier
"...late yesterday afternoon. One student was killed and another wounded in the attack. Police are not releasing the names of the victims at this time. The man police believe responsible for the shooting was also found dead at the scene. The cause of death has not been disclosed. Rumors that the alleged gunman was connected with the anti-mutant hate group, the Friends of Humanity, have been widely circulated, though the Friends have denied the man had any connection to their organization. A spokesman for the group was quoted as saying--"
"Turn that off, will you, Drake?"
"Yeah. Sorry." The screen flickered, then came to stop on a channel blaring morning cartoons. He glanced over at her. "Look at it this way, at least you avoided press coverage."
"Small mercies," Domino sighed. "Looks like the FoH are going to weasel out of it as well, though."
"Hey, you got the guy, right? That's something."
"We *wanted* to get the ones who planned the attack in the first place." The growled response came from the direction of the window, where Cable had seated himself in a chair, turned to face the view of the estate. "Get proof of who gave the order. Instead, they know we're on to them. Now we have *nothing.*"
"Welcome back to planet Earth," Dom murmured, leaving the couch to join Nate at the window. That little rant was the most he'd spoken since the night before. "You sure you're all right?"
"Oath, woman. Could you please stop *hovering?*" He snapped, getting to his feet.
"Excuse the hell out of me for being concerned," she replied waspishly.
He glared. "Well, don't be," he shot back, and left the room.
"Great," she muttered, flopping back on the couch. Bobby was staring in the direction of the doorway.
"Someone sure woke up on the wrong side of the bed."
"Cut him some slack, okay? He watched a kid get killed in front of him yesterday," she snarled. "I'm really starting to get sick of this holier-than-thou X-Men shit. No one likes his methods, so of course he's just some heartless--"
"Hey, I didn't know, all right?" He interrupted. "It's not like we all get together and trade the gory details of each others' missions, you know." He tipped his head to the side and gave her a lopsided smile. "And contrary to popular belief, we're not poor deluded suckers who've never seen how ugly the world can get. Goes both ways, you know?"
She closed her eyes and sighed. "You're right. Sorry. I'm just... this is... Shit," she muttered, glancing back at the empty doorway. "He really didn't need this right now."
"No one ever does." He picked up the remote control again. "We're X-Men. Our timing always sucks."
Now
She stared at the pale ceiling, wondering when the rain would end. Nathan's breathing was soft beside her, his arm a warm weight around her waist. She shivered, pondered getting up to find her pajamas, but settled instead for drawing the thick comforter around them both. They were making a bad habit of this, she thought. It was getting harder to avoid the swiftly changing status of their relationship. But his eyes had been so bleak and raw that leaning forward to press a kiss to his mouth was all she could think to do. Bring him what little salvation she could, as if she could press the pain from him with her body.
She knew she loved him, couldn't help the hopeless desperation the knowledge caused her. It wasn't that she feared he wouldn't reciprocate--she had a pretty good idea of what 'more than friends' entailed--but rather that she wanted him to get his happy ending, and she had her doubts about her place in that.
Eventually, he seemed asleep enough that she could move without disturbing him. She slipped out of bed and into a pair of cotton sleep-pants and Nathan's sweatshirt, and wandered out onto the porch.
It was dark, with only the faintest hint of setting sun leaking through the rain clouds. She dropped herself into the chair Nathan had occupied most of the day and sighed. A tortoiseshell cat she'd spotted out back earlier in the day hopped feather-light onto the porch and began sauntering towards her. She tucked her feet beneath her; it might be friendly but she didn't want to know what kind of blood-sucking creatures it was carrying. Eventually it wandered off and the tree frogs started up with a vengeance, voices blending in with the sound of the falling rain.
By the time he joined her, the moon had risen to replace the sun's last rays.
"It's cold out here," was all he said at first, standing slightly behind her chair, voice rough in a way that told her their fleeting embrace had been as temporary a fix as she'd assumed.
"Yeah."
"You okay?"
She craned her neck to look at him, towering over her in the shadows. He hadn't so much as turned a light on in the house, and she reminded herself that he didn't need to. "That's a stupid question."
"You're upset."
"Of course I'm upset."
"You shouldn't be." He paused as she glared at him. "Not about this. I'm fine, Dom."
"Like hell you are," she replied and turned away. "You can't suppress, this, Nate. And I don't mean that in a 'it's not healthy' way. I think you're incapable of doing it, this time. You wouldn't be here otherwise. But hiding isn't going to change a goddamned thing. It won't change the fact that that boy is dead and Tyler is still out there on the loose. And you're blaming yourself because of it. Because you can't somehow magically get over this. Emotions don't work that way, and you know it. You can't just shut them off."
"Hypocrite."
"We're not dealing with me right now, are we?"
"We could," he grated. She was trying to punch holes in his armor and he was ready to grasp at anything that might divert her from that task. He wasn't about to let her see how thin that protection really was. He didn't think he'd be able to handle it if she destroyed the last of his control, and she had no idea how close she was pushing him to the breaking point. Or she did, and she didn't care. That would be like her--ruthless to the last. Then he saw the look on her face, and knew he'd made a mistake.
"Oh, is that what you want, then?" She was out of the chair and standing toe to toe with him, her anger cutting through the night with a knife-like edge. "We could talk about me. We *could* talk about how you've never dealt with the fact that your son held me hostage for a *year,* Nathan. *I've* sure as hell had to deal with it, after all. Seems fair, doesn't it?"
He took an involuntary step backward, an effort to escape her sudden fury, but she'd backed him into a wall, figuratively and literally. He could feel the clapboards biting into his shoulder blades. "Dom..."
"No, Nathan. I think this needs to be addressed, don't you? It's a hell of a thing to leave undiscussed," she continued, voice low and level and utterly ruthless.
There was no way out of it. The fog that had been protecting him for days was gone, and he was left alone with the awful clarity of his thoughts. The intensity in her eyes could have bored holes in his skull. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "Dom... I--"
"You what? Don't want to *think* about it? That's convenient for you, isn't it?" Her voice was soft now, but it was a deadly sort of quiet. "I have to live with it every *day,* Nathan. I have to deal with the memory of being chained to the wall like some kind of cheap entertainment. Something to be fondled and leered at. For a *year* I lived that existence, Nathan. And the only time I was spared it, was when your son took time out to assure me that no one was ever going to discover his little charade."
Her words were cold, clinical, but the thoughts behind them... He couldn't shut them out, not at this proximity, not with the state his telepathy was in. He felt bile burn the back of his throat. "Oath, Dom..." His voice was barely more than a whisper. "If you think I don't blame myself, every day, for not realizing--"
She hit him then, an open-hand slap across the face meant to stun more than damage--she didn't want to break his jaw *or* her hand. "You bastard," her voice was ferocious. "You think I *want* your self-pity? I want you to realize it *wasn't your fault.*" He stared at her, too numb to speak. There were tears in her eyes; he could see them in the light of the moon. "Let go," she whispered harshly. "God, Nathan. Sometimes things just *happen.* You can't carry the whole weight of the world on your shoulders. It's going to kill you if you try. You can't control it all. It can't *all* be your fault. Just... let go."
And somehow, the look in her eyes, the complete openness of her emotions made him wonder if it could really be that simple. Stop clinging, stop trying to force himself to feel what he thought was required of him, take all of it and just let it go. He didn't feel his knees buckle, but he felt her stagger as she caught him, arms under his. It crossed his mind that she'd been outside for too long--she was very cold, nearly as cold as he was on the inside. But her arms were strong--stronger than he could have ever guessed, and they held him tight.
In a heap on the coarse floorboards, he felt strangely empty, a void left where all the needlessly pent up guilt and frustration had been. Gathering Dom into his lap, he returned her fierce embrace. In the end, maybe it was just a matter of finding the right thing to hold on to.
Further notes: This story is set during X-Force's time at the mansion, between issues 45 and 46, or thereabouts, though it does slide into a slight AU.
Disclaimer: Marvel owns them, I don't. Don't sue.
Light Years
by Timesprite
She'd been driving for hours. There were knots in her back, and her knuckles ached from clinging to the steering wheel. A headache was lacing through her skull from focusing too hard on the little fuzzy spot in the back of her head that was the link with Nathan. As new as it was, as unfamiliar as she remained with all things telepathic, she could still tell when he was shielding. He was shielding like hell now, not that it would really do him any good. She had a pretty good idea of his whereabouts, as she'd bullied Jean into pinpointing his location without actually telling the other woman why she was so desperate to find him. Sure, in theory a little backup might have been a smart thing to bring, but she'd very quickly learned that none of Nate's family was terribly helpful in situations like this. In fact, they tended to make it exponentially worse. Between Jean's well-meaning but heavy-handed mothering, and Scott's awkward discomfort with anything involving his wayward son, Nathan would have fled the moment they got near enough for him to sense. She, at least, had a chance, though it was only slightly better than the proverbial snowball in hell's.
Right now, all Domino could do was pray he wouldn't decide to close her out like he had been since this whole incident had begun. A part of herself was angry at not being more forceful with him. She'd *known* something was insanely wrong, she'd *felt* it on a visceral level thanks to the bond they now shared, but she'd been stupid enough to believe he'd come to her when he was ready. It didn't help that the smarter, wiser, and more detached part of her knew he would have only rabbited sooner if she'd pressed him. The feeling of failure remained just the same. She should have protected him better. It was her *job,* after all. Nate had to save the fucking world, and she had to save him. Not that she'd ever tell him she'd decided to be his self-appointed guardian. On a good day, he might have laughed. Today wasn't a good day. It hadn't been a good week. Her stomach clenched a little. God, had it only been a week? The nightmare seemed to have been going on forever.
Earlier
"Xavier's sources have indicated that the school has been receiving anonymous threats for weeks now. We've managed to narrow it down, and the most likely perpetrator seems to be our old pals at the Friends of Humanity. They've spoken out publicly against it, voicing their concern that such a school needlessly puts humans into contact with mutants who could be infected with Legacy." Cable rested his hands on the War Room's table, eyes skimming over the holographic display of the school's grounds. "Obviously, we were expecting this sort of backlash now that news of the virus is public."
"And the FoH are jumping on it as a way to package their message in a more publicly acceptable wrapping," Domino mused from where she leaned against the far wall.
"Exactly. Obviously, this is something Xavier has concerns over. The last thing we want is someone focusing their attention *here.*"
"Is that really something we have to worry about? I would have thought the professor would have his tracks covered."
"For the most part, Roberto, he does. Problem is, there's a chance, however small, that someone could uncover a past roster, or make a few connections. It's not one he--or I, for that matter--are willing to take. Besides, this school is exactly the kind of place Xavier wants to help foster--a place where mutants and humans are interacting together, without fear. Where everyone's needs are being met."
"So how exactly do *we* fit into this?"
"*We* are going to do a little surveillance, Jimmy. Rumors are pointing to the FoH making a move against the school itself. We're going to see if we can't frustrate those plans."
Jimmy gave him a skeptical look. "*Without* the rest of the team?"
"It's a stealth mission. I'd rather not be seen if we don't absolutely have to be. Smaller numbers the better. We don't need half a dozen mutants crashing through the bushes like bull elephants. I think you boys are capable of covertness if you put your minds to it. I'd take Shatterstar, but he's still in the medlab. Tabitha, frankly, wouldn't know stealth if it bit her on the ass, and given her recent ...indiscretions, Dom and I have decided it's best she sit this one out. We can use your eyes and ears, Jimmy, and I'm hoping Roberto will able to restrain his newfound... enthusiasm enough to assist us," he continued, glancing sidelong at Sunspot.
The young man in question gave him a thumbs up. "You can count on me, Cable. I just don't know if I like running errands for Xavier."
"Better get used to it, kid. We're going to be working a lot closer with him *and* the X-Men from now on."
Now
With the futilely dampened link glowing like a beacon in the back of her skull, Domino finally pulled the car off to the side of the rustic road and got out, crossing the ditch and stepping into the darkened forest beyond. The smell of pine needles was sharp, enfolding her as they crunched under foot. The trees towered upward all around her, here and there making room for a stray beam from the full moon to pierce the darkness. It was in the midst of one of those heavenly spotlights that she found Nathan, his hair glinting in the light, face upraised in contemplation. She stepped into the ring of moonlight, hesitating for a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge her. He didn't, and she cursed under her breath. She'd been hanging to the scant hope that she might find him in a cooperative mood. Or at least a better on than he'd left the mansion in. Obviously, that wasn't going to be the case.
"Nate, what are you doing out here?" 'Aside from driving me mad,' she thought bleakly, and it crossed her mind for the thousandth time that this just wasn't like him. He might not have let things go as easily as he sometimes pretended to, but it wasn't often he dwelled on them to the point of obsession, either. No, that level of devotion was reserved for one thing, and one thing only, and as tragic as what had happened had been, it certainly had nothing to do with his mission.
"It's quiet," he said, head dropping so that he stared into the darkness between the trees instead of the stars above.
"Obviously," she replied. "But it's after midnight. You could have at least left me a note before you took off. I was worried," she admitted, hoping it would get some sort of reaction. She didn't usually give voice to those sorts of emotions, *especially* ones concerning Nathan.
He tipped his head a little, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "I needed to be somewhere else."
"Well, that's great, Nathan," she replied, trying her damnedest not to get angry at him. "I still would have appreciated a 'Hey, Dom. Taking a vacation. Don't panic,' from you. Why here, anyway? And don't tell me it's quiet again. I get that much."
"He loved this place," he replied after a pause. His voice echoed through the trees, gravely, strained sounding. "Well, not this one, exactly. But a place like it. I can see why."
"Who?" She took a step closer, the knot in her stomach tightening in realization. "Nathan... it wasn't your fault."
He turned his head to look at her fully, this time. "Wasn't it? If I had been faster--"
"You did the best you could, Nate," she replied, crossing the soft bed of shed needles to where he stood. "He came out of nowhere. It's not your *fault* some creep with a gun shot at the first movement he saw."
"I just--I *tried* Dom... But I scared him. I just wanted him to stay safe, and I scared him into running. If I had been--there had to be another way, but I just didn't..."
"Nate, what are you talking about?" She touched his arm, concerned.
"I--" He looked down at her, and the misery apparent in his face struck Domino to the very core. "I knew he was there," he said finally, his voice a harsh whisper in the night silence of the forest. "He'd been exploring, when it started. The noises scared him. I didn't want him to run, I wanted to tell him to stay where he was, but I startled him, and he ran. He ran right into the path of that flonqing bullet, and it's my fault."
Earlier
The school was about what one would have expected--comparable to Xavier's with its red brick and ivy, though considerably smaller in actual size. It sat at the end of a long, shaded drive, in the center of a clearing ringed by old-growth trees that spoke of centuries in private hands. The only outward signs of its conversion from stately manor to alternative education center were the bright works of art in some of the lower-story windows and the colorful playground equipment scattered on the back lawn. A back lawn currently occupied by a dozen or so of the school's younger students, waiting to be taken home for the day.
It seemed a very unlikely place for the mutant strike force that currently hunched around the perimeter, just out of sight along the trees.
For Cable, the feelings the scene evoked were difficult to describe. There was a sense of wonder at seeing how little these children cared about the differences between them--black, white, green, it made no difference. But there was an edge of anger at knowing the only reason he was there to witness something he'd long felt could only be a pipedream was because other men had threatened to destroy it. They hadn't been able to ascertain just what the Friends of Humanity intended to do, but they knew they were going to make their move soon. Watching the children on the playground, he hoped they could stop whatever the FoH had planed without an actual conflict.
"Well, what do you know," Domino's amused voice piped over the headset. "Maybe all of Xavier's talk isn't just blowing smoke out his ass."
He chuckled. "Occasionally. It's good to see, huh?"
"Oh, hell yeah. If only everyone could be so unbiased."
"Children don't know the difference, Dom. Adults have to teach them how to hate."
"Yeah. Makes me want to knock a few heads together," she muttered before falling silent again. Nathan rocked back on his heels and continued to watch. If only it could be this simple. Decades of experience, sadly, had shown him otherwise.
And then his reverie, and the afternoon, were irreparably shattered by a gunshot. He was on his feet and moving even as chaos erupted on the playground. Hysterical children were screaming, and panicked faculty members had sprinted from the building to herd the kids inside. One of them scooped up an older girl, who had moments before been telekinetically pushing several of the smaller children on the large swing set, blood dripping down her arm as the teacher hauled her inside.
"What the hell just happened?" Dom's voice sounded sharp over the headset.
"I don't know!" he shouted back. "I guess the FoH decided today was a good day to drop by."
"You didn't sense them?"
"No," he growled. "Maybe they're psi-shielded... Bobby, get airborne, see if you can pinpoint anyone. Jimmy, watch your back. I've got no flonqing clue where anyone is. Dom--"
"Already moving, Nate."
There was another spatter of gunfire somewhere in the trees, and he caught a glimpse of Sunspot overhead as he fought his way through the undergrowth towards the direction of the original shot. Finally, he gave up and dove out into the clearing, making himself an instant target. Still, if they were shooting at him, they weren't shooting at the rest of the team, who couldn't just toss up a TK shield to protect themselves. The playground was empty now, the teachers and students secluded in the relative safety of the building. The police had probably already been called--which meant they didn't want to waste too much time fighting with these men.
"We've got three down, Nate," Dom reported as he started scanning the tree line again, hoping whoever had shot the girl hadn't fled yet. He somehow doubted that course of action had been approved by the higher-ups in the organization. "Not sure how many others there are, though."
"'Berto?"
"Nothing, Cable, sorry. Tree cover is too thick. Someone was firing shots off towards the east side of the school, though."
"Already on my way." He was scanning ahead, frustrated that he couldn't sense them when another mind blazed into his awareness. Terrified, hiding in the bushes where he'd no doubt been playing when his classmate had been shot. He reached out instinctively to keep the boy from running, knowing there was likely a trigger-happy FoH lurking in the shadows, and he himself was too far away to do anything with his telekinesis.
The mind he touched panicked, and he took off at a sprint, hoping to catch the boy before he broke cover. An instant later, he registered a flash in the gloom, the report cracking loudly in his ears, drowning out the sound of his own cry as a mop of gold hair broke through the greenery, staggered, and fell.
He lashed out blindly, reaching deep into his own depths and unleashing years of repressed grief and rage into a telekinetic fist that threw the young man standing with a rifle at the clearing's edge backward into the thick trunk of a nearby oak, the body breaking with a sick, wet snap.
The world seemed to go silent around him then as he sunk to his knees beside the boy's small body, red stain expanding in the center of his grey sweatshirt. Blue eyes flickered open once, but there was no real awareness left in his mind, only shock and pain and a rushing emptiness that pulled them both under.
From the far end of the clearing, Domino heard the gunshot, followed by Cable's cry, and set out at a dead run. The scene that greeted her made bile burn the back of her throat. An FoH member lay a few yards off, body such a mangled, pulverized heap she didn't waste time checking for a pulse. Nathan was kneeling in the grass, the techno-organic virus running wildly across his body, holding the limp body of a boy who couldn't have been more than seven years old. One look at Nathan's face told her the boy was already dead. Sirens were approaching in the distance, and biting her lip, Dom reached out, tentatively touching Nate's unaffected right side. He didn't react, and she cursed silently. He looked like he was in some kind of shock. Behind her, Bobby had landed quietly on the grass, and Jimmy was joining them at a jog across the clearing. Both stopped a few feet away, watching silently.
"Damnit, Nate... snap out of it." She jostled his shoulder a little more, jabbing at their psilink best as she could in hopes of getting some sort of reaction out of him and trying her hardest not to panic at the way the virus was acting up. "Nathan!"
Finally, he looked up at her, then dropped his head back down to stare at the lifeless body in his lap. "Dom..."
"I know," she said softly. "But there's not anything more we can do here, and you need to focus on the virus right now."
He glanced to his arm and stared at it as if he hadn't even felt the T-O's encroachment. Gently, Dom lifted the small body from his lap, laying the boy in the grass. "Jimmy, give Nate a hand back to the plane," she said, not looking up, voice strained as she tried to keep her emotions in check.
"Sure thing," he replied in a tone as subdued as her own.
She took a deep breath, noted that the sirens were louder now, and climbed to her feet. Turning her back on the dead boy, she crossed the clearing, Roberto a silent as a shadow at her side. It seemed impossible to believe that only fifteen minutes earlier children had been laughing in this place. It was hung now with a silence thick as oil, and it seemed even more impossible that anyone would ever laugh here again.
The aftermath hadn't been pretty. Domino hadn't expected it to--she'd been on one to many missions gone wrong to expect anything else, but it was the first time they'd lost a civilian with any of the kids present, which was just one more worry to add to the pile. Walking off the plane, she'd felt older than she had in ages. Her more cynical side noted that they'd gotten far too used to happy endings.
Nate's disappearance had left her with the task of filling Xavier in on what happened, not something she'd looked forward to. She didn't know him well, and what she did know didn't make her inclined to like him very much. Giving him the news that things had gone hideously wrong had been nerve-wracking in a way she wasn't used to. In the end, though, he'd understood, and the obvious pain on his face made her amend her opinion slightly. Charles Xavier's personal philosophy may have been questionable in her mind, but she couldn't deny he had a heart. She rolled her shoulders and turned the corner, heading towards the kitchen. Nate hadn't been in his room, and intuition told her she'd likely find him there. It was late, and seemed the least likely place to invite unwelcome company. She wasn't disappointed, and stopped in the doorway to contemplate his hunched form for several moments before speaking.
"Enjoying the dark?"
Nathan looked up at her but didn't reply, slumping in his chair with a resigned weariness. He'd vanished into his room shortly after their return, either to sleep or brood, ignoring her suggestion that he let McCoy give him a once-over. She hadn't liked the dazed state he'd been in the entire way back, or the fact that he'd lost control of the virus--apparently without even realizing it. Something more had happened at the school than she was aware of, but she wasn't yet ready to pry.
"Did you talk to the boys?" He asked finally as she took a seat across from him. He was nursing a cup of coffee, though she wouldn't venture to guess how much was really Jack Daniels at this point.
"Yeah. They're both a little shaken, but they realize there wasn't anything we could have done differently." She leaned her chin on one hand and watched him for a long moment. "I know asking if you're okay is a stupid question--"
"I--" He stopped, took a swallow of coffee, then sighed, shoulders slumping. "I slept some. Didn't really help."
She nodded. "Look, Nate. I'm not going to pry here. You know that *I* know that this probably stirs up ugly memories for you. If you need to talk, I'm here, okay?" She reached across the table and squeezed his hand gently, then released it and stood. "It's been a long day. I'm going to bed."
"Dom... wait."
She stopped halfway to the door and turned to face him. His expression was haggard, and she was sorely tempted to coax him into going back to bed. "Nate..."
"I--" He trailed off, head dropping, and she half-heard him mumble something to himself that sounded like 'so cold' from that distance.
Frowning, she crossed the room and hooked an arm under one of his own, tugging gently. "C'mon. We've both had a hell of a day, and you look like your nap didn't do the trick." He rose sluggishly, and she realized just how exhausted he really was. Something was obviously really upsetting him--the link was bubbling darkly in the back of her mind, though she couldn't get a clear fix on anything--and her gut was telling her that something more serious had just happened than she'd initially suspected. Half-dragging her partner along--no easy feat given his bulk--Domino got them as far as the wing X-Force had invaded, and hauled Nate into her room. Appearances be damned; hers was the closest, and given the way Nate was hanging on her, she somewhat doubted he'd object to sharing a bed. She parked him on the edge of the mattress and detached herself. "Stay put. I'll be right back." A quick jog down to the other end of the hall later, she offered up the pajama pants and tee-shirt she'd acquired from his room and busied herself digging her own out of the dresser while he changed. Had they not both been so run down at this point, she mused, this could have been awkward. Ever since Negev, they'd been making wary circles around each other, not sure whether or not the admissions made there were better left alone. None of that mattered now, though. All she wanted was to make sure Nate got the rest he obviously needed, and she prayed tomorrow wouldn't bring any dire consequences along with the morning news.
Now
Staring up at Nathan--at his wretched expression--a hundred replies sprang to mind but none of them passed her lips, her voice locked in silence. There wasn't much she could say to an admission like that, really. She could tell him it wasn't his fault, again, but she didn't think he really believed it was. He was just caught in that pain of knowing he'd done what he should have--done everything he could have, to no avail. There was nothing worse, she thought, than watching one's best efforts come to nothing. She looked up to watch dark clouds scuttle across the brilliant moon and shivered as the wind bit through her thin jacket. She squeezed his arm lightly. "Nate, we should get out of here. I don't think the weather's going to hold."
"Dom, please... I don't--" His voice was rough, and he stopped short, jaw tensing in a way that indicated he was fighting some inward battle he wasn't about to disclose.
"Not back to Westchester," she promised. She wasn't the only one who'd noticed his increasingly odd behavior, and his sudden disappearance would demand answers. From the look of him, that was about the last thing he needed, too. Luckily enough, there was one of Nathan's numerous boltholes a reasonable distance away. It couldn't hurt to drag him off for a few days to see if it helped the situation any. She was starting to get a sinking feeling that it might not--his behavior had gotten fairly extreme, even considering what had taken place, and his admission that he'd been in telepathic contact with the boy had unsettled something inside of her. She'd give him the benefit of time and quiet before she made any further judgment, though. He deserved that much, at least.
She was almost beginning to regret that patient streak an hour and miles later. Granted, he obviously wasn't in the best frame of mind, but showing a little gratitude would have been nice. Playing chauffer wasn't one of her favorite activates, especially when the passenger kept telekinetically turning the radio off. Part of her thought, vindictively, that it'd serve the bastard right if she drifted off and ran the car off the road. She glanced at Nathan across the dim car interior.
"So, I take it you're not interested in talking about any of this..." When in doubt, try picking a fight. It usually worked on Nate, anyway. She'd gotten pretty good at pushing his buttons. "Because I'd really like to know just what it is you're not telling me." Silence greeted the statement, and she scowled. "Nathan."
"What?" He didn't so much as turn to look at her, his voice belligerent.
"Y'know what? Forget it," she sighed. "This can just wait for the morning." Not that she thought it would be any easier then, but she'd stand a better chance of not losing her temper and slugging him if she slept first. Besides, the drive was going to take most of her concentration. She didn't care to pitch the car off a winding mountain road, though that would certainly solve the problem, she thought grimly. Better to concentrate on getting them to the safehouse in one piece. She'd worry about how she was going to keep him there later. Although, if it rained the way the sky seemed to be threatening it would, she might not have to worry about that. Coming down the mountain would be more of a hazard than going up. It could work. She didn't really have much of a plan in mind, aside from a vague fantasy that involved pummeling him for worrying her like this, but keeping him isolated seemed a good start. And she figured the Blue Ridge mountains were certainly remote enough for that.
She had no idea where he'd left the car he'd driven down from Westchester. There hadn't been any sign of it, and she'd had more important things to worry about at the time. It was probably telling that she'd packed some of his clothes before she'd left the mansion. Nathan was still staring vacantly out the passenger side window, though there was nothing to see save the occasional blue flash of lightning in the distance. Rain was spitting down intermittently on the windshield, and she had the disquieting feeling that despite Nathan's indisputable presence, she was utterly alone in the car.
Earlier
"--set the autopilot. Keep an eye on it. Nathan..."
The voice came at him as if from a great distance, disrupted by the searing cold that closed in around him, squeezing the breath from his lungs. His eyes slid shut, blurred surroundings giving way to darkness.
"--the virus--"
The voice wavered, piercing the black fog and fading again into roaring nothingness, pitching on invisible waves...
"Nathan!"
He jumped, his eyes snapping open. His vision swam for a moment before focusing on Dom's worried face. "What?"
"Virus." There was a tap on his left hand. "We discussed this already."
He looked down at his arm, but he didn't need the visual proof. He could feel the cold spread of the virus through his body, even through that other, all encompassing chill that seemed to be numbing his brain. They had...
...he remembered green and a flash of yellow in the sun and....
The smell of blood was sharp, but he couldn't see anymore, the cold destroyed his sight as well, turning everything to black--
He shook himself, pulling himself back with an almost physical effort, the plane's interior returning to him, Domino's eyes fixed on him with silent worry. Swallowing past the sudden taste of bile in his throat, he concentrated, shoving the virus back to its accustomed territory.
"That's better."
And in his peripheral vision, Dom settled back against her seat.
"Are you all right?"
He nodded. He wasn't, but he nodded anyway because there was no way to describe the way the cold was freezing his insides, sharp ice crystals that seemed to cut at his mind.
He heard her sigh.
Now
She punched agitatedly at her pillow and rolled onto her back. The link was buzzing like an angry hornet's nest in the back of her mind, making it clear that Nate wasn't nearly as 'fine' as he'd claimed to be. She was half tempted to elbow him in the ribs and call him on the whole thing, but she was afraid that if she did he might just shield the link again. Afraid, because in the short time it had existed, she'd become used to the psilink, and the muffled cotton feeling she got when he shielded made her uneasy. She'd come to rely on it for the kind of reassurance neither of them could express with words.
Beside her, Nate murmured, and before she could make much more than a meager attempt to fend him off, he'd half-dragged her to his side of the bed, arms firmly wrapped around her waist. She would have been annoyed, but he was still fast asleep. She sighed. He got grabby when something was bothering him, she knew that much from experience, and it wasn't something she could really reprimand him for... especially not when he started whimpering like a kicked puppy. Cursing under her breath, she managed to get herself turned around, and brushed a hand lightly along the side of his face. "Nate," she murmured softly, and concentrated on pouring as much calm down the link as she could muster, trying to drown out whatever was chasing him behind those closed lids.
Another person might have been inclined to feel used over the whole thing, but she knew Nathan's affection was something he did not give easily--not for any lack of it, but because he'd been hurt because of it far too often to ever take it lightly. She wasn't the sort of person who accepted any sort of affection easily, anyway. But this--this was something private. It was a role only she could fill, and that gave a sense of purpose to a life that had been largely aimless. He needed her, and that was repayment enough, as far as she was concerned.
Earlier
_"I want to come with you."_
_"You can't."_
He pushed himself to his feet as the plane touched down, Domino a step behind him, as if she feared he'd fall. He steadied himself against the pull of gravity, defying it, placing his feet carefully on ground he couldn't feel beneath him, so illusory it felt as he descended the stairs and stepped into the hanger.
_"Why not?"_
The ground felt as if it might crack under his feet at any moment.
_"It's just a raiding party..." Guileless blue eyes stared up at him from behind unruly blond hair. "Daaad..."_
"Nate?"
He stopped, turning slowly, trying to keep the paper thin reality from tearing around him. "Yeah?"
"Maybe you should let Hank have a look at you?"
He shook his head. "I'm fine." Just cold. "Handle the boys?" It was making him lethargic. He needed to close his eyes...
_"*Just* a raiding party. Your mother would kill me."_
"Sure. You're sure you're okay..."
"Yes." No. Of course not. He had... blue eyes and blond hair had bled to death in his lap.
The floor was fracturing beneath him now, trying to swallow him up with that cold born from the depths of hell... the final irony, there was no fire there...
The deep breath he took split something in the frozen core of his chest, but the world snapped hard into crystal clarity, his boots impacting the floor as he dragged himself step after step to his room and collapsed on the bed without shedding his bloodied uniform.
Now
The safehouse was minimally provisioned--rations, canned and dried goods. Nathan made a habit of keeping the places in good repair, at least. With the way it was pouring, picking up groceries was out of the question. Of course, aid was really only a call away, but she wanted to work this out herself. She'd been quietly harboring a grudge over all the laying in Xavier and Jean had been doing--if subtly--to Nathan over his powers, and she wasn't keen on handing him back over just yet. All of this would be rendered academic, of course, if she couldn't get him to crack a little. At the moment, he was doing an admirable impression of a brick wall. Nothing was showing through the armor he'd built up.
"If I make this, you going to eat it?" That earned her a noncommittal shrug, though she doubted he'd actually snub anything she put in front of him. Especially since oatmeal was one of the few things she could make decently. "Nate, I understand you're... upset. But I'm going to toss you out in the rain if you don't stop this monosyllabic grunting thing you've got going here." She glanced over her shoulder again. "Coffee?"
"You have to ask?"
"Well, I don't know. Given your current behavior..."
"Coffee would be nice," he amended, sounding suitably admonished, and Dom dug out two mugs while muttering under her breath about puppy-dog looks.
She eyed the ceramic critically, then swiped at them both with a towel before filling them, did likewise for the two bowls she dumped the oatmeal in, and deposited Nathan's half in front of him before going back for her own. She added a good measure of sugar to her bowl, then sat down across from him. "I'm still not pleased with you for taking off like that."
He stared down at his breakfast and sighed. "I should have said something."
"Yeah, you should have," she replied between mouthfuls. "You know, if you'd told me, I would have come with you."
"I wasn't exactly thinking about it," he replied. "I just... needed to be somewhere else."
"This is really bothering you, isn't it?"
"Yes!" he growled, fist hitting the table hard enough to make the dishes jump.
She leaned back in her chair, startled by the sudden outburst. Well, she thought wryly, this was better than the grunting, at least. For a split second, he'd been more himself than he had since the whole mess had begun. "Understandable," she replied after a moment. "It's just... well, we watch people die all the time, Nate. This isn't even the first time a kid has gotten caught in the crossfire."
"I suppose you want me to feel nothing, then?"
The distance was back in his eyes, and she cursed silently. "No! I would *never* imply that, Nathan. But it's been a week."
"And I could have prevented it," he said, standing.
The finality in his voice warned her not to pursue the matter as he turned and left the kitchen. She finished the rest of her oatmeal, then collected the dishes from the table and deposited them in the sink. Through the window, she saw him exit the front door and walk out onto the veranda. "What the hell is going on with you, Nate?"
The empty kitchen had no reply.
Earlier
Rest had restored some clarity of thought, if not well-being. Nathan found himself disgusted with his own loss of control. A little psionic shock was one thing, but he'd been bordering on delusional for awhile there, and that was unacceptable. The short time he'd slept--while restless and turbulent--had at least given him the energy to patch the hairline fractures that had appeared in his shields, hopefully before any of the other psis in the household picked up on it. The rest he had simply walled up until he found the energy to figure out just what the hell he'd done to himself. He didn't want help with this--not after all the lecturing he'd been getting since he'd moved X-Force to the mansion. He could handle this... he just needed to find the energy.
The coffee currently in front of him wasn't doing it. Not that he had unrealistic expectations as to the powers of caffeine, but he'd stumbled down to the dark, deserted kitchen as much in hope of clearing the fuzzy edges of his thoughts as a need for some comfort from the cold that seemed to leak around the edges of its prison. He stared down at the dark surface of the liquid, his face reflected back as a sallow, hollow-eyed mask.
"Enjoying the dark?"
He didn't lift his head immediately. He could feel Domino's eyes on him, a whisper of her concern drifting to him across the link they shared. He heard her light footsteps on the tile, and the chair across from him scrape against the floor before he finally looked up. She'd changed out of her uniform and into a worn tee-shirt, more gray than black from repeated washings. He liked her best that way, casual, with some of her danger buried for awhile... "Did you talk to the boys?" He asked, dragging his thoughts back into some semblance of order.
"Yeah. They're both a little shaken, but they realize there wasn't anything we could have done differently." The comment forced him to fight down a flinch--she didn't know, and he didn't think she saw the reaction, because though she leaned forward on one elbow, her expression was neutral. "I know asking if you're okay is a stupid question--"
He wanted to laugh. Oh, it was the truth, certainly. And she was doing such a wonderful job of not pushing him. She was concerned, but she wasn't pushing, and he wanted to thank her for that, because he'd come to depend on it, as much as she'd come to depend on him for the same. Sometimes, though, he thought they'd gotten far too good at the game, and not pushed when the slightest pressure would have caved in a thousand invisible fractures that never healed left on their own... For now, though, he was just tired and grateful for her presence. "I--" He stopped short, and took a healthy swallow of coffee, which had gone lukewarm in the cup. "I slept some. Didn't really help."
She nodded, and he wondered what she would do if he got up and dragged her from that chair, folding her in against his chest tightly, just to see if it eased the ache there, if he could use her like a bandage over the wounded part of him, the place the cold had left raw and painful, the cold that was trying to escape... could she warm that away?
"--ugly memories for you. If you need to talk, I'm here, okay?" Her hand touched his briefly, a quick squeeze, and then she was away from him, backing toward the door. "It's been a long day. I'm going to bed."
"Dom... wait." His words stopped her, and she was waiting, waiting on him to say something, but the words and actions in his head didn't make any sense anymore.
"Nate..."
"I--" 'Please,' he thought, staring at the table top. 'If you could just take this away, because it's so cold and I can't--'
And then her hands were on him again, gently urging him to his feet, her arms as reassuring as he thought they'd be.
Now
The way the rain poured down all around him was disturbing on some primal level. It pounded down so... mercilessly. He'd never gotten used to it. It felt as if the constant hiss might swallow him, while all around him, the landscape appeared as if fresh-painted in oils, glossy and bright and so far removed from where he was. He watched it without really processing any of it. Everything had taken on a distinctly muffled feel.
He pressed his palms against closed lids. "I failed him, Jen," he murmured to the rain. "I promised I'd take care of him..." A clap of thunder reverberated through the surrounding mountains. "I just keep failing."
He was aware of Dom flickering at the edges of his perception like a phantom, like something not altogether a part of reality. Or was it simply that he was the one fading in and out of touch?
"How much of this is about Tyler?"
He blinked and Dom was there, sitting on the porch railing, rain dripping off the roof-edge behind her. Balanced there, legs swinging, she looked innocent and carefree, the knowledge that she was neither painful. "Some"
"I figured." She swept her long hair back over her shoulder with one hand, rock-steady on the slender rail. "There was... a passing resemblance."
He looked past her to the rain-cloaked mountains. "He's out there, somewhere."
"He's an adult, Nathan..."
"He's hurt," he replied. "Sick in a way that he can't help. That's my fault."
"You said you had no choice."
"That's right." He stopped. "No, it's not *right.* I knew what Stryfe had done to him. I could have killed him, Dom. If I had--"
Two soft 'thumps' as she pushed herself clear of the railing to stand in front of him. Her dark eyes were unguarded, he could see the emotions she was struggling to keep buried as easily as he could her concern. "He's your son, Nathan. No one would have expected you to. You had every right to believe he could be helped, that he still *can.*"
"And if he can't? If he never could have been? Whatever Stryfe may have done, *I* damaged him myself when I severed that link. He blames me for that. He should. What kind of life did I condemn him to? After I promised his mother--I promised Jen..."
"Nate," she touched his face lightly, palm warm against his cheek, voice barely more than a whisper, "don't do this to yourself. Please."
Earlier
"...late yesterday afternoon. One student was killed and another wounded in the attack. Police are not releasing the names of the victims at this time. The man police believe responsible for the shooting was also found dead at the scene. The cause of death has not been disclosed. Rumors that the alleged gunman was connected with the anti-mutant hate group, the Friends of Humanity, have been widely circulated, though the Friends have denied the man had any connection to their organization. A spokesman for the group was quoted as saying--"
"Turn that off, will you, Drake?"
"Yeah. Sorry." The screen flickered, then came to stop on a channel blaring morning cartoons. He glanced over at her. "Look at it this way, at least you avoided press coverage."
"Small mercies," Domino sighed. "Looks like the FoH are going to weasel out of it as well, though."
"Hey, you got the guy, right? That's something."
"We *wanted* to get the ones who planned the attack in the first place." The growled response came from the direction of the window, where Cable had seated himself in a chair, turned to face the view of the estate. "Get proof of who gave the order. Instead, they know we're on to them. Now we have *nothing.*"
"Welcome back to planet Earth," Dom murmured, leaving the couch to join Nate at the window. That little rant was the most he'd spoken since the night before. "You sure you're all right?"
"Oath, woman. Could you please stop *hovering?*" He snapped, getting to his feet.
"Excuse the hell out of me for being concerned," she replied waspishly.
He glared. "Well, don't be," he shot back, and left the room.
"Great," she muttered, flopping back on the couch. Bobby was staring in the direction of the doorway.
"Someone sure woke up on the wrong side of the bed."
"Cut him some slack, okay? He watched a kid get killed in front of him yesterday," she snarled. "I'm really starting to get sick of this holier-than-thou X-Men shit. No one likes his methods, so of course he's just some heartless--"
"Hey, I didn't know, all right?" He interrupted. "It's not like we all get together and trade the gory details of each others' missions, you know." He tipped his head to the side and gave her a lopsided smile. "And contrary to popular belief, we're not poor deluded suckers who've never seen how ugly the world can get. Goes both ways, you know?"
She closed her eyes and sighed. "You're right. Sorry. I'm just... this is... Shit," she muttered, glancing back at the empty doorway. "He really didn't need this right now."
"No one ever does." He picked up the remote control again. "We're X-Men. Our timing always sucks."
Now
She stared at the pale ceiling, wondering when the rain would end. Nathan's breathing was soft beside her, his arm a warm weight around her waist. She shivered, pondered getting up to find her pajamas, but settled instead for drawing the thick comforter around them both. They were making a bad habit of this, she thought. It was getting harder to avoid the swiftly changing status of their relationship. But his eyes had been so bleak and raw that leaning forward to press a kiss to his mouth was all she could think to do. Bring him what little salvation she could, as if she could press the pain from him with her body.
She knew she loved him, couldn't help the hopeless desperation the knowledge caused her. It wasn't that she feared he wouldn't reciprocate--she had a pretty good idea of what 'more than friends' entailed--but rather that she wanted him to get his happy ending, and she had her doubts about her place in that.
Eventually, he seemed asleep enough that she could move without disturbing him. She slipped out of bed and into a pair of cotton sleep-pants and Nathan's sweatshirt, and wandered out onto the porch.
It was dark, with only the faintest hint of setting sun leaking through the rain clouds. She dropped herself into the chair Nathan had occupied most of the day and sighed. A tortoiseshell cat she'd spotted out back earlier in the day hopped feather-light onto the porch and began sauntering towards her. She tucked her feet beneath her; it might be friendly but she didn't want to know what kind of blood-sucking creatures it was carrying. Eventually it wandered off and the tree frogs started up with a vengeance, voices blending in with the sound of the falling rain.
By the time he joined her, the moon had risen to replace the sun's last rays.
"It's cold out here," was all he said at first, standing slightly behind her chair, voice rough in a way that told her their fleeting embrace had been as temporary a fix as she'd assumed.
"Yeah."
"You okay?"
She craned her neck to look at him, towering over her in the shadows. He hadn't so much as turned a light on in the house, and she reminded herself that he didn't need to. "That's a stupid question."
"You're upset."
"Of course I'm upset."
"You shouldn't be." He paused as she glared at him. "Not about this. I'm fine, Dom."
"Like hell you are," she replied and turned away. "You can't suppress, this, Nate. And I don't mean that in a 'it's not healthy' way. I think you're incapable of doing it, this time. You wouldn't be here otherwise. But hiding isn't going to change a goddamned thing. It won't change the fact that that boy is dead and Tyler is still out there on the loose. And you're blaming yourself because of it. Because you can't somehow magically get over this. Emotions don't work that way, and you know it. You can't just shut them off."
"Hypocrite."
"We're not dealing with me right now, are we?"
"We could," he grated. She was trying to punch holes in his armor and he was ready to grasp at anything that might divert her from that task. He wasn't about to let her see how thin that protection really was. He didn't think he'd be able to handle it if she destroyed the last of his control, and she had no idea how close she was pushing him to the breaking point. Or she did, and she didn't care. That would be like her--ruthless to the last. Then he saw the look on her face, and knew he'd made a mistake.
"Oh, is that what you want, then?" She was out of the chair and standing toe to toe with him, her anger cutting through the night with a knife-like edge. "We could talk about me. We *could* talk about how you've never dealt with the fact that your son held me hostage for a *year,* Nathan. *I've* sure as hell had to deal with it, after all. Seems fair, doesn't it?"
He took an involuntary step backward, an effort to escape her sudden fury, but she'd backed him into a wall, figuratively and literally. He could feel the clapboards biting into his shoulder blades. "Dom..."
"No, Nathan. I think this needs to be addressed, don't you? It's a hell of a thing to leave undiscussed," she continued, voice low and level and utterly ruthless.
There was no way out of it. The fog that had been protecting him for days was gone, and he was left alone with the awful clarity of his thoughts. The intensity in her eyes could have bored holes in his skull. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "Dom... I--"
"You what? Don't want to *think* about it? That's convenient for you, isn't it?" Her voice was soft now, but it was a deadly sort of quiet. "I have to live with it every *day,* Nathan. I have to deal with the memory of being chained to the wall like some kind of cheap entertainment. Something to be fondled and leered at. For a *year* I lived that existence, Nathan. And the only time I was spared it, was when your son took time out to assure me that no one was ever going to discover his little charade."
Her words were cold, clinical, but the thoughts behind them... He couldn't shut them out, not at this proximity, not with the state his telepathy was in. He felt bile burn the back of his throat. "Oath, Dom..." His voice was barely more than a whisper. "If you think I don't blame myself, every day, for not realizing--"
She hit him then, an open-hand slap across the face meant to stun more than damage--she didn't want to break his jaw *or* her hand. "You bastard," her voice was ferocious. "You think I *want* your self-pity? I want you to realize it *wasn't your fault.*" He stared at her, too numb to speak. There were tears in her eyes; he could see them in the light of the moon. "Let go," she whispered harshly. "God, Nathan. Sometimes things just *happen.* You can't carry the whole weight of the world on your shoulders. It's going to kill you if you try. You can't control it all. It can't *all* be your fault. Just... let go."
And somehow, the look in her eyes, the complete openness of her emotions made him wonder if it could really be that simple. Stop clinging, stop trying to force himself to feel what he thought was required of him, take all of it and just let it go. He didn't feel his knees buckle, but he felt her stagger as she caught him, arms under his. It crossed his mind that she'd been outside for too long--she was very cold, nearly as cold as he was on the inside. But her arms were strong--stronger than he could have ever guessed, and they held him tight.
In a heap on the coarse floorboards, he felt strangely empty, a void left where all the needlessly pent up guilt and frustration had been. Gathering Dom into his lap, he returned her fierce embrace. In the end, maybe it was just a matter of finding the right thing to hold on to.