DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'Mutant X'. They're not
my property. They belong to Tribune Entertainment.
***
*********
The tranquility of the moment was rudely interrupted when Brennan and Emma stormed into the room. There was panic in the Psionic's eyes as she collapsed in front of the bed. "Check her wound!"
"Wh-...?" Jesse didn't get to ask when Emma interrupted him.
"Check the wound on her waist!" she ordered.
"Um, Sha-..."
"She can't hear you. Open the robe," Emma said with a following look dipped into further confusion from the Molecular. "Jesse!"
Jesse glanced at the sleeping Feral and barely saw any visible motion from her. He loosened the belt of the clothing and slowly uncovered the place where the bandages were placed. The sight appeared worse than expected: the white color of the protective layers had absorbed a greenish/red that had managed to quickly devour the original color, giving indication that the bandage was of little use now. At the ends of the tapes that were supposed to keep the protective layers securely over the wound, were crooked lines with a disturbing red and green color, reminding of the body's veins with only their misplacement and odd coloring appearing.
"Oh, no, what happened..." Brennan watched the seemingly disturbing infection of Shalimar's wound.
Sending itching shivers towards the beginning of his spine, the infection widened the space restricted previously by his eyelids. "Shal, Shal wake up!" he began tapping Shalimar's cheek gently.
"She can't hear you, Jesse," Emma said while observing the site on the Feral's body.
"Yes, she can. Come on, Shal!" He insisted.
"I'm gonna bring replacements," Brennan said and rushed to the bathroom.
Emma had wanted to mention the uselessness of that action but it would have registered little with him. Her lips moved nervously with silence as the fading liveliness which she was receiving with such clarity was dragging itself towards the bottom of her brain before continuing further down, opting to penetrate the opening from the rest of her body.
While Jesse had continued with his attempts to awaken Shalimar, Emma's heartbeats began to increase with much speed; the abstraction of the images in front her were disturbing her, twisting her senses.
She dropped before the first grains of the sand. "Give me your hand!" she said and stretched out her arm. Shalimar's face turned towards her and she finally uncovered her eyes. There was fear spilling over them. Beneath that eerily calmness were the small pieces of justified panic, swimming insanely but not strong enough to break through the concrete surface above them. "Shal..." Emma's voice was low but firm. She did not dare to approach the sand, it would swallow her instantly; the intuition was screaming with such warning and Emma listened to it.
Shalimar's lips parted, ready to form an answer; that response however immediately drained away any color from those lips, leaving only the ghostly layer of white. "Emma... please..." the normal tone of her voice transformed itself to a shaking whisper, "Don't leave me..." and already colored rigorously with internal tears.
"I won't. Give me your hand," Emma struggled to sustain outwardly calmness and prayed those struggles wouldn't abandon her for now.
The barely visible signs of fear were swiftly sucked out by a foreign source, leaving nothing but emptiness in the Feral's eyes. "I can't," she responded.
"Shal, your hand. I can save you!"
"I know, sweetie... but not this time... there really is..." she shrugged tiredly, "nothing you can do."
Emma narrowed her eyes. "That's ridiculous!"
"No, it's not."
"What's happening to you??" Emma shouted, while the muscles in her arm were achingly demanding for a rest. She brought the arm closer to her knees.
"I can't fight it anymore. I-I'm too tired... I need sleep."
"Fight what?"
"Brennan's dreams... I can't defend myself any longer; they're hurting me too much."
"His nightmares?"
Shalimar closed her eyes briefly and nodded while pressing her lips tightly, perhaps hoping to add some color to them, even if that meant blood.
"How...?" Emma asked faintly.
"Their screams, the constant torture..." slowly Shalimar raised her hand to the collar of her crème-colored gown to pull it shortly down and reveal three thin, horizontal, purple lines. Some sort of bruises, apparently. "They... won't leave me alone and It's making me tired... it's hurting me."
The sight of the disturbing coloring of Shalimar's neck nearly accomplished the task of captivating Emma when the more frightful reality threw her back immediately. "It will stop... give me your hand, please." Emma stretched out her arm.
"I can't."
"Shalimar! Give me your hand!" There was no patience left inside the Psionic anymore, her last response snatched it away.
"You can't save me, Emma... just, please, stay with me," she pleaded with a quiet cry.
Emma quickly fought for more energy from the brain cells when an unexpected sonic wave ran through her brain like a thin knife and ruthlessly shoved her back, snatching the balance from her body, forcing her to immediately meet the floor with her back.
Quickly she managed to lift her upper body on the small support provided by her arms. A thin, silky, grayish curtain had fallen before her, trapping her eyes behind it with only the faint images of her friends. Her head began throbbing weakly, causing instant flashes before the pain slowly faded, pulling the curtain along with it. When her view was once again clear, she was slowly lifted from the ground by Brennan's hand on her elbow. There was puzzlement about the source of that unexpected impact... it hadn't been a result from her witnessing of Shalimar's emotional state. it had been something else.
"Shal," she then remembered with her hand placed on her head.
By the time her eyes focused on the blonde mutant, Brennan had already began applying the replacement for the old bandages.
Jesse touched Shalimar's cheek with his fingers which scraped more of the strange white residue. "This can't be good," he said while examining the substance.
"What is it?" Brennan asked without looking at him. His entire focus was on the wound in front of him. For a moment he gasped. The delicate piece of flesh had helplessly subdued to the psychedelically attending coloring of some unknown infection with the thin streaks stretching out to her thigh. How did such an infection occur? Was Shalimar not careful enough? Something was not right. Although the odd coloring and the almost swollen effect of the wound and surrounding tissue might have given the signs of some sort of infection, it failed to present that simple answer. Brennan grunt with his teeth. He should have paid closer attention to Adam's lessons concerning such medical matters.
He glanced briefly over at Emma. She was much more experienced and with at least, a much bigger knowledge about such treatments but she appeared completely absent as she stared sadly at Shalimar. "Emma?" he called her. Brennan needed her opinion.
Her expression however and her sudden "interest" did not change. There was no blinking and her mouth was forming some silent, presumably incoherent, words. The image, the change in her eyes was unreadable and under the heavy tension of the moment it gave no opportunity for even a brief acknowledgement for the reason.
"Emma!" he called her again.
"Not now, Brennan!" she shouted at him with words wrapped in hysterical bubbles.
The response threw, both the Elemental and Molecular, temporarily off course as that did not register on their expectancy list. He did not ask for her further. Instead, Brennan returned his entire attention to Shalimar. He did not even ask about the residue on Jesse's fingers.
With bare feet she saw her friend walk calmly over to a larger pond filled with sand. Stepping inside it, Shalimar walked to the centre of the pond and closed her eyes. With parted lips, she gathered her last breath and pressed her arms tightly against her chest. Soon she began to slowly sink into the thick mass, leaving Emma without any other choice but to remain a miserable spectator of this endless departure. She tried to send some energy, to give out a hand... any kind of assistance but was mercilessly denied that opportunity. What had sent a sudden wave of larger disturbance inside the Psionic had been Shalimar's calmness and willingness for this. Her friend was leaving... her energy was fading slowly, the last sparks struggling to remain alive as to not indicate any confirmation of the fears of those surrounding Shalimar.
Jesse noticed the scarred tissue on Brennan's hands. "What happened to those?" he asked.
Brennan threw a quick glance at Jesse. "Caleb," he said. The pain had diminished and the majority of the burned flesh had somehow managed to replace itself with a new, healthier substitute. Whatever Emma had placed in that remedy of hers, it lived up to her expectations. It had worked.
The men's attention was quickly thrown over at the panting body of Emma as she met the floor once more. This time, Jesse reached out to her. Assisting in the recovery of her balance, he saw her hands quickly placing themselves on her head, pressing tightly against it. "Not now. Not now!" she hissed while her eyes wanted to search for answers in the darkness. The headache had struck once more. Emma was convinced she could help Shalimar, despite the opposite reality that was waving itself stubbornly in front of the Psionic's face, mocking her for the naïve belief in an actual salvation of her friend. The pain which swooped like a hurricane inside her head disconnected Emma from Shalimar just as it had done the first time.
Bad timing indeed.
"Are you alright?" Jesse asked her with worry.
Emma shook her head and with his aid slowly stood up while using his body as a leaning post for her own. When she opened her eyes, having to be met with the physical body of Shalimar, she gripped Jesse's arm. "She's dying," was her response.
***
*********
The tranquility of the moment was rudely interrupted when Brennan and Emma stormed into the room. There was panic in the Psionic's eyes as she collapsed in front of the bed. "Check her wound!"
"Wh-...?" Jesse didn't get to ask when Emma interrupted him.
"Check the wound on her waist!" she ordered.
"Um, Sha-..."
"She can't hear you. Open the robe," Emma said with a following look dipped into further confusion from the Molecular. "Jesse!"
Jesse glanced at the sleeping Feral and barely saw any visible motion from her. He loosened the belt of the clothing and slowly uncovered the place where the bandages were placed. The sight appeared worse than expected: the white color of the protective layers had absorbed a greenish/red that had managed to quickly devour the original color, giving indication that the bandage was of little use now. At the ends of the tapes that were supposed to keep the protective layers securely over the wound, were crooked lines with a disturbing red and green color, reminding of the body's veins with only their misplacement and odd coloring appearing.
"Oh, no, what happened..." Brennan watched the seemingly disturbing infection of Shalimar's wound.
Sending itching shivers towards the beginning of his spine, the infection widened the space restricted previously by his eyelids. "Shal, Shal wake up!" he began tapping Shalimar's cheek gently.
"She can't hear you, Jesse," Emma said while observing the site on the Feral's body.
"Yes, she can. Come on, Shal!" He insisted.
"I'm gonna bring replacements," Brennan said and rushed to the bathroom.
Emma had wanted to mention the uselessness of that action but it would have registered little with him. Her lips moved nervously with silence as the fading liveliness which she was receiving with such clarity was dragging itself towards the bottom of her brain before continuing further down, opting to penetrate the opening from the rest of her body.
While Jesse had continued with his attempts to awaken Shalimar, Emma's heartbeats began to increase with much speed; the abstraction of the images in front her were disturbing her, twisting her senses.
She dropped before the first grains of the sand. "Give me your hand!" she said and stretched out her arm. Shalimar's face turned towards her and she finally uncovered her eyes. There was fear spilling over them. Beneath that eerily calmness were the small pieces of justified panic, swimming insanely but not strong enough to break through the concrete surface above them. "Shal..." Emma's voice was low but firm. She did not dare to approach the sand, it would swallow her instantly; the intuition was screaming with such warning and Emma listened to it.
Shalimar's lips parted, ready to form an answer; that response however immediately drained away any color from those lips, leaving only the ghostly layer of white. "Emma... please..." the normal tone of her voice transformed itself to a shaking whisper, "Don't leave me..." and already colored rigorously with internal tears.
"I won't. Give me your hand," Emma struggled to sustain outwardly calmness and prayed those struggles wouldn't abandon her for now.
The barely visible signs of fear were swiftly sucked out by a foreign source, leaving nothing but emptiness in the Feral's eyes. "I can't," she responded.
"Shal, your hand. I can save you!"
"I know, sweetie... but not this time... there really is..." she shrugged tiredly, "nothing you can do."
Emma narrowed her eyes. "That's ridiculous!"
"No, it's not."
"What's happening to you??" Emma shouted, while the muscles in her arm were achingly demanding for a rest. She brought the arm closer to her knees.
"I can't fight it anymore. I-I'm too tired... I need sleep."
"Fight what?"
"Brennan's dreams... I can't defend myself any longer; they're hurting me too much."
"His nightmares?"
Shalimar closed her eyes briefly and nodded while pressing her lips tightly, perhaps hoping to add some color to them, even if that meant blood.
"How...?" Emma asked faintly.
"Their screams, the constant torture..." slowly Shalimar raised her hand to the collar of her crème-colored gown to pull it shortly down and reveal three thin, horizontal, purple lines. Some sort of bruises, apparently. "They... won't leave me alone and It's making me tired... it's hurting me."
The sight of the disturbing coloring of Shalimar's neck nearly accomplished the task of captivating Emma when the more frightful reality threw her back immediately. "It will stop... give me your hand, please." Emma stretched out her arm.
"I can't."
"Shalimar! Give me your hand!" There was no patience left inside the Psionic anymore, her last response snatched it away.
"You can't save me, Emma... just, please, stay with me," she pleaded with a quiet cry.
Emma quickly fought for more energy from the brain cells when an unexpected sonic wave ran through her brain like a thin knife and ruthlessly shoved her back, snatching the balance from her body, forcing her to immediately meet the floor with her back.
Quickly she managed to lift her upper body on the small support provided by her arms. A thin, silky, grayish curtain had fallen before her, trapping her eyes behind it with only the faint images of her friends. Her head began throbbing weakly, causing instant flashes before the pain slowly faded, pulling the curtain along with it. When her view was once again clear, she was slowly lifted from the ground by Brennan's hand on her elbow. There was puzzlement about the source of that unexpected impact... it hadn't been a result from her witnessing of Shalimar's emotional state. it had been something else.
"Shal," she then remembered with her hand placed on her head.
By the time her eyes focused on the blonde mutant, Brennan had already began applying the replacement for the old bandages.
Jesse touched Shalimar's cheek with his fingers which scraped more of the strange white residue. "This can't be good," he said while examining the substance.
"What is it?" Brennan asked without looking at him. His entire focus was on the wound in front of him. For a moment he gasped. The delicate piece of flesh had helplessly subdued to the psychedelically attending coloring of some unknown infection with the thin streaks stretching out to her thigh. How did such an infection occur? Was Shalimar not careful enough? Something was not right. Although the odd coloring and the almost swollen effect of the wound and surrounding tissue might have given the signs of some sort of infection, it failed to present that simple answer. Brennan grunt with his teeth. He should have paid closer attention to Adam's lessons concerning such medical matters.
He glanced briefly over at Emma. She was much more experienced and with at least, a much bigger knowledge about such treatments but she appeared completely absent as she stared sadly at Shalimar. "Emma?" he called her. Brennan needed her opinion.
Her expression however and her sudden "interest" did not change. There was no blinking and her mouth was forming some silent, presumably incoherent, words. The image, the change in her eyes was unreadable and under the heavy tension of the moment it gave no opportunity for even a brief acknowledgement for the reason.
"Emma!" he called her again.
"Not now, Brennan!" she shouted at him with words wrapped in hysterical bubbles.
The response threw, both the Elemental and Molecular, temporarily off course as that did not register on their expectancy list. He did not ask for her further. Instead, Brennan returned his entire attention to Shalimar. He did not even ask about the residue on Jesse's fingers.
With bare feet she saw her friend walk calmly over to a larger pond filled with sand. Stepping inside it, Shalimar walked to the centre of the pond and closed her eyes. With parted lips, she gathered her last breath and pressed her arms tightly against her chest. Soon she began to slowly sink into the thick mass, leaving Emma without any other choice but to remain a miserable spectator of this endless departure. She tried to send some energy, to give out a hand... any kind of assistance but was mercilessly denied that opportunity. What had sent a sudden wave of larger disturbance inside the Psionic had been Shalimar's calmness and willingness for this. Her friend was leaving... her energy was fading slowly, the last sparks struggling to remain alive as to not indicate any confirmation of the fears of those surrounding Shalimar.
Jesse noticed the scarred tissue on Brennan's hands. "What happened to those?" he asked.
Brennan threw a quick glance at Jesse. "Caleb," he said. The pain had diminished and the majority of the burned flesh had somehow managed to replace itself with a new, healthier substitute. Whatever Emma had placed in that remedy of hers, it lived up to her expectations. It had worked.
The men's attention was quickly thrown over at the panting body of Emma as she met the floor once more. This time, Jesse reached out to her. Assisting in the recovery of her balance, he saw her hands quickly placing themselves on her head, pressing tightly against it. "Not now. Not now!" she hissed while her eyes wanted to search for answers in the darkness. The headache had struck once more. Emma was convinced she could help Shalimar, despite the opposite reality that was waving itself stubbornly in front of the Psionic's face, mocking her for the naïve belief in an actual salvation of her friend. The pain which swooped like a hurricane inside her head disconnected Emma from Shalimar just as it had done the first time.
Bad timing indeed.
"Are you alright?" Jesse asked her with worry.
Emma shook her head and with his aid slowly stood up while using his body as a leaning post for her own. When she opened her eyes, having to be met with the physical body of Shalimar, she gripped Jesse's arm. "She's dying," was her response.