Chapter 6
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"You should come back in." Talia said after a moment.
"Why? You don't belong in there any more than I do."
Talia arched an eyebrow at the remark and smiled. 'Ok...you are more intuitive than I gave you credit for,' she thought and proceeded to say as much.
Logan laughed. Talia found herself liking the sound.
"Call it empathy," he said as he flexed his arms and sent the claws out as part of the stretch.
Talia regarded them. "May I?" She voiced her question.
He debated a moment and then held out his arm for her.
Talia placed her hand under his wrist, allowing it to rest there. Then, instead of going directly to the claws, she placed her hand on his forearm. Her fingers pressed lightly into his skin, feeling the muscle and bone beneath and worked their way down. She paused where she felt the delicate yet unbreakable parts that made up the claws' apparatus in his wrist.
Logan watched what she was doing, though not really from fear. 'There ain't much she can do to me, but...but what?' He swallowed and looked up from what her hands were doing, up to her face.
She wasn't looking at his face, just studying the metal. He let his guard down a moment and just watched her.
Talia's hand had reached the blades of the claws, and her fingers traveled down them. She had never seen a metal like this before, and said so.
"Adamantium, but you knew that...unbreakable," he answered.
"How fine is the control?"
Logan complied by slowly bringing the outside two in, leaving the one she had her hands on--the middle one--extended. He saw the side of her lip curl up at this and found himself smiling as well.
Talia followed the single blade down to the tip; she had seen many types of metals: gold, silver, iron, bronze. She had even worked them once...long ago. Part of her mind knew he was staring at her. Suddenly, she felt playful.
Logan watched her face intently. He felt a slight pressure on his remaining claw, not that he was paying attention to that, however.
Then she looked up at him with those eyes, her lips curling into a barely-there smile. Logan held her gaze silently for a moment and then looked down as he felt her hand come to rest on top of his fist while her other held his fist. But...
'My claw!' Logan looked down and saw her hand resting on top of his...with his claw sticking out the back of it! He felt the warmth of her blood ooze between their hands!
Snikt!
The claw was immediately retracted. He gaped at her, mouth open wide, before looking down. He watched as tiny flashes of lightening danced across the wound. Gone.
"Come on." Talia stood and headed back.
Logan found himself following. This was getting weird.
The two arrived back at the room just in time to here the explanation of the Game.
"You mean you.....kill each other?" Ororo questioned in disbelief.
"It's just the way things are." Duncan finished.
Xavier could tell that, despite their candidness, this 'game' caused them a great deal of pain.
"Yes, a little bit of genocide does the body good." Talia quipped as she returned to her seat.
Logan, however, followed her and leaned against the wall next to her.
Nadya saw a fleck of red on Talia's jeans and shot her a questioning glance. Talia shook her head to alleviate her friend's worry.
Xavier spoke next, though what he said was more of a statement. "So how can we trust you when you cannot even trust each other?"
No one spoke for a few moments after that, until a soft voice came from the rug.
"You can...at least as far as you can trust any person." Nadya said.
Methos looked at her, wanting to hear what she had to say.
"With all due respect, Professor, you may not think I belong here, being neither mutant nor Immortal, and perhaps I don't. But I assure you that my ties to each of these people are as strong as blood or species can be. Duncan was a dear friend of my parents' until they died. He has, before and since, been everything from an overbearing mother to a kind and compassionate friend to me."
Duncan was not sure how to react to that statement, but found himself swallowing back some tears.
"Talia has fast become a dear friend and a sister."
Talia smiled in return
"And Adam...Adam is a cynical jerk! He's rude and self-absorbed. He could care less about the rest of humanity." Nadya said, on her knees, with one hand on her hip, pausing a moment to let the old man stew.
"But Methos, if you are ever lucky enough to get to know him...Methos is one of a kind. He has died for me and has saved my life more than once. He does have one irreconcilable fault, though...unforgivable, really..." Nadya returned the look he was giving her, her voice somewhat low.
"He's human," she finished softly.
The ensuing silence was broken by the sound of feet pounding on the floor and then the slamming of a door.
Talia moved to sit by her friend. Nadya bowed her head as the woman whispered, "He is not angry with you. He just doesn't like feeling vulnerable."
Nadya nodded and then got up and left the room, her soft steps going in the opposite direction of Methos'.
The Professor and Duncan decided perhaps it would be best to take a break, as it was obvious that everyone needed a breather.
Everyone filed out of the room, leaving Xavier and Talia there. After a while, Talia pulled out a few pins from the side pockets of her jeans and put up her hair. Midday was always the hottest part of the day and even though it was almost into autumn, the temperature was still quite nice.
Charles was about to speak when the lady beat him to it.
"Your powers," she turned to face him from across the room, "You are able to see my thoughts?"
Charles powered the chair forward towards her as she leaned her side against the wall. "That is as valid an explanation as any," he smiled, and then pressed slightly with his mind, speaking. 'But I can also do this.'
Her reaction to this was not was he had expected nor ever experienced before, and it startled him. When his voice spoke to her mind, he watched her double over and grasp her head! Xavier stopped immediately but, before he pulled back, he felt the rush of 'fear.....almost.....no, gone.'
"I'm sorry! No one has ever reacted like that before." He leaned forward, reaching out a hand to touch her forearm.
Talia straightened and shook her head, as if to clear an unwanted feeling, and then summoned a weak smile. "Unless of course you wanted them to?" she asked softly.
"I do not like to use...no, abuse my abilities," he defended, "And I am sorry. What did you feel?" he asked her, worried that he had hurt her. He had honestly been expecting someone a lot older but the person before him seemed so young...too young to be so…'haunted. Yes, haunted.' And her answer only confirmed he thoughts.
"Pray that you never have to know." She rose and made to leave the room.
"I might be able to help you." Charles turned his chair to look after her.
She turned.
"There is nothing to help...the past is dead.....and the living suffer only because they remember."
Charles felt more than saw the feeling of sadness, the same one that he had felt before, leaving him feeling the weight of years...his own and hers.
"I will see you later, Professor Xavier." Talia said and then left the room.
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She sat on the fountain's edge, beneath Psyche's gaze, and thought. She couldn't help feeling like the tragic woman of myth who tried to see Cupid-to see the man she loved--for who he really was and he had fled.
These were the large, royal gardens-pristine and beautiful but, under the surface, artificial. They were not natural. Not like the smaller garden on the other side of the house. They didn't belong here. Perhaps she didn't either.
'Perhaps I should just go back to Seacouver or even New York, forget this part of life. Start again...forget about Immortals or mutants...forget everything. Perhaps this is not my place.'
Nadya's head fell upon her raised knee and she squeezed her eyes tight, trying to keep back the stinging tears that bit her nerves, burning her eyes and cheeks. Psyche's snow-white marble hand was stretched out just above the woman's head, as though to stroke her hair in empathy.
But she was frozen in her own grief.
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Methos brought the broadsword around and then back and up, over his head and down, reveling not only in the familiar feel of the blade's weight in his hands but the sound it made as it cut through the air. Though MacLeod had seen him meditate once at the barge, it really was not a habit for him. Just as what he did now was nothing like the highlander's katas. Though it looked like it. But it wasn't so much done to clear his mind as to reinforce his skills and with them the knowledge of what he was capable of....or not capable of.
He felt ages of training and muscles that even now moved almost of their own accord. Instinct. Over time, it had come to replace the training. Of course, instinct will only get you so far; it works mainly for defense. Offense, however, is another story.
Manipulation, being able to think beyond the battle, where to maneuver the fight so I have the advantage of terrain. How do I set him up with one move so I can hit him with another that he cannot shift his guard to fast enough?
And of course, no two battles are the same.
'I hate feeling vulnerable!' He spun about, slicing off the tops of the long blades of grass in the overgrown area of the property. His invisible opponent just lost a leg...unless he had jumped, of course. 'Almost as much as I hate being figured out!'
He brought the Ivanhoe about and the invisible immortal lost his head.
'Bravo, Nadya, dear sweet girl.'
Methos chuckled and headed back to the house for a shower.
.....................................................................................................................................................................
Piotr turned to be greeted by Nadya entering from the gardens. He saw the remains of the tears on her cheeks.
He reached out a hand and took her arm. "Are you all right?"
She glanced up at the tall Russian, biting her lip a little. "Yes. No. I don't know."
He slid his hand gently down her arm and took her hand, reaching out and taking the other hand as well. Her small brown hands disappeared within his large ones. He stared at them for a while and then lifted his eyes to look into hers.
"What?" her voice was soft, low, almost not there.
"I want you to be all right. I would have you smile again, Nadya. Yah hachoo etahvah! (I want that!)"
Nadya lowered her head. "Piotr, smiling is not something that comes easily for me anymore. Life is hard. Tears come more easily."
Then, to her amazement, he lowered his head and kissed both of her tear-stained cheeks. "Then give me your tears," he whispered.
She could feel his breath on her skin.
Piotr encased both her hands in his left against his chest, the fingertips of his right grazing her cheek gently as he moved towards her again. "And you take my smile."
...............................................................................................................................................
Methos paused at the turn of the corner, watching. He saw but knew he wasn't seen; they were too engaged in each other.
Had Nadya been kissed since he met her? She hadn't said so; he wasn't even sure she had dated over the past few years.
Something inside him twitched and twisted, wanted to hurt, but he denied it. He refused to give it quarter.
'Why should I? It isn't like she's Alexa.'
With that, he turned and walked away towards his room.
Nadya stepped back, though she desperately wanted to stay in Piotr's arms.
Every nerve in her body was awake and alive, heat stinging her cheeks, layering soft pink over chocolate. His kiss had surged through her, speeding up her heartbeat and causing her stomach to do flip-flops. She'd never felt like that before...no, not true. Once.
"Piotr, I..." His fingers stopped her lips.
"Ti nye dolzhen gavaresh, Nadya (You don't have to say anything, Nadya.)." He reached up and caressed her cheekbone with his thumb but did not make another movement towards her. "I am not here to force you into anything. Just know that I'm here."
With those final words, he stepped back and continued on out the door, leaving her alone again.
Nadya stepped back until her back met the wall. Then she slumped down against it and cried again. Tears were the only expression she knew now.
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"You should come back in." Talia said after a moment.
"Why? You don't belong in there any more than I do."
Talia arched an eyebrow at the remark and smiled. 'Ok...you are more intuitive than I gave you credit for,' she thought and proceeded to say as much.
Logan laughed. Talia found herself liking the sound.
"Call it empathy," he said as he flexed his arms and sent the claws out as part of the stretch.
Talia regarded them. "May I?" She voiced her question.
He debated a moment and then held out his arm for her.
Talia placed her hand under his wrist, allowing it to rest there. Then, instead of going directly to the claws, she placed her hand on his forearm. Her fingers pressed lightly into his skin, feeling the muscle and bone beneath and worked their way down. She paused where she felt the delicate yet unbreakable parts that made up the claws' apparatus in his wrist.
Logan watched what she was doing, though not really from fear. 'There ain't much she can do to me, but...but what?' He swallowed and looked up from what her hands were doing, up to her face.
She wasn't looking at his face, just studying the metal. He let his guard down a moment and just watched her.
Talia's hand had reached the blades of the claws, and her fingers traveled down them. She had never seen a metal like this before, and said so.
"Adamantium, but you knew that...unbreakable," he answered.
"How fine is the control?"
Logan complied by slowly bringing the outside two in, leaving the one she had her hands on--the middle one--extended. He saw the side of her lip curl up at this and found himself smiling as well.
Talia followed the single blade down to the tip; she had seen many types of metals: gold, silver, iron, bronze. She had even worked them once...long ago. Part of her mind knew he was staring at her. Suddenly, she felt playful.
Logan watched her face intently. He felt a slight pressure on his remaining claw, not that he was paying attention to that, however.
Then she looked up at him with those eyes, her lips curling into a barely-there smile. Logan held her gaze silently for a moment and then looked down as he felt her hand come to rest on top of his fist while her other held his fist. But...
'My claw!' Logan looked down and saw her hand resting on top of his...with his claw sticking out the back of it! He felt the warmth of her blood ooze between their hands!
Snikt!
The claw was immediately retracted. He gaped at her, mouth open wide, before looking down. He watched as tiny flashes of lightening danced across the wound. Gone.
"Come on." Talia stood and headed back.
Logan found himself following. This was getting weird.
The two arrived back at the room just in time to here the explanation of the Game.
"You mean you.....kill each other?" Ororo questioned in disbelief.
"It's just the way things are." Duncan finished.
Xavier could tell that, despite their candidness, this 'game' caused them a great deal of pain.
"Yes, a little bit of genocide does the body good." Talia quipped as she returned to her seat.
Logan, however, followed her and leaned against the wall next to her.
Nadya saw a fleck of red on Talia's jeans and shot her a questioning glance. Talia shook her head to alleviate her friend's worry.
Xavier spoke next, though what he said was more of a statement. "So how can we trust you when you cannot even trust each other?"
No one spoke for a few moments after that, until a soft voice came from the rug.
"You can...at least as far as you can trust any person." Nadya said.
Methos looked at her, wanting to hear what she had to say.
"With all due respect, Professor, you may not think I belong here, being neither mutant nor Immortal, and perhaps I don't. But I assure you that my ties to each of these people are as strong as blood or species can be. Duncan was a dear friend of my parents' until they died. He has, before and since, been everything from an overbearing mother to a kind and compassionate friend to me."
Duncan was not sure how to react to that statement, but found himself swallowing back some tears.
"Talia has fast become a dear friend and a sister."
Talia smiled in return
"And Adam...Adam is a cynical jerk! He's rude and self-absorbed. He could care less about the rest of humanity." Nadya said, on her knees, with one hand on her hip, pausing a moment to let the old man stew.
"But Methos, if you are ever lucky enough to get to know him...Methos is one of a kind. He has died for me and has saved my life more than once. He does have one irreconcilable fault, though...unforgivable, really..." Nadya returned the look he was giving her, her voice somewhat low.
"He's human," she finished softly.
The ensuing silence was broken by the sound of feet pounding on the floor and then the slamming of a door.
Talia moved to sit by her friend. Nadya bowed her head as the woman whispered, "He is not angry with you. He just doesn't like feeling vulnerable."
Nadya nodded and then got up and left the room, her soft steps going in the opposite direction of Methos'.
The Professor and Duncan decided perhaps it would be best to take a break, as it was obvious that everyone needed a breather.
Everyone filed out of the room, leaving Xavier and Talia there. After a while, Talia pulled out a few pins from the side pockets of her jeans and put up her hair. Midday was always the hottest part of the day and even though it was almost into autumn, the temperature was still quite nice.
Charles was about to speak when the lady beat him to it.
"Your powers," she turned to face him from across the room, "You are able to see my thoughts?"
Charles powered the chair forward towards her as she leaned her side against the wall. "That is as valid an explanation as any," he smiled, and then pressed slightly with his mind, speaking. 'But I can also do this.'
Her reaction to this was not was he had expected nor ever experienced before, and it startled him. When his voice spoke to her mind, he watched her double over and grasp her head! Xavier stopped immediately but, before he pulled back, he felt the rush of 'fear.....almost.....no, gone.'
"I'm sorry! No one has ever reacted like that before." He leaned forward, reaching out a hand to touch her forearm.
Talia straightened and shook her head, as if to clear an unwanted feeling, and then summoned a weak smile. "Unless of course you wanted them to?" she asked softly.
"I do not like to use...no, abuse my abilities," he defended, "And I am sorry. What did you feel?" he asked her, worried that he had hurt her. He had honestly been expecting someone a lot older but the person before him seemed so young...too young to be so…'haunted. Yes, haunted.' And her answer only confirmed he thoughts.
"Pray that you never have to know." She rose and made to leave the room.
"I might be able to help you." Charles turned his chair to look after her.
She turned.
"There is nothing to help...the past is dead.....and the living suffer only because they remember."
Charles felt more than saw the feeling of sadness, the same one that he had felt before, leaving him feeling the weight of years...his own and hers.
"I will see you later, Professor Xavier." Talia said and then left the room.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
She sat on the fountain's edge, beneath Psyche's gaze, and thought. She couldn't help feeling like the tragic woman of myth who tried to see Cupid-to see the man she loved--for who he really was and he had fled.
These were the large, royal gardens-pristine and beautiful but, under the surface, artificial. They were not natural. Not like the smaller garden on the other side of the house. They didn't belong here. Perhaps she didn't either.
'Perhaps I should just go back to Seacouver or even New York, forget this part of life. Start again...forget about Immortals or mutants...forget everything. Perhaps this is not my place.'
Nadya's head fell upon her raised knee and she squeezed her eyes tight, trying to keep back the stinging tears that bit her nerves, burning her eyes and cheeks. Psyche's snow-white marble hand was stretched out just above the woman's head, as though to stroke her hair in empathy.
But she was frozen in her own grief.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Methos brought the broadsword around and then back and up, over his head and down, reveling not only in the familiar feel of the blade's weight in his hands but the sound it made as it cut through the air. Though MacLeod had seen him meditate once at the barge, it really was not a habit for him. Just as what he did now was nothing like the highlander's katas. Though it looked like it. But it wasn't so much done to clear his mind as to reinforce his skills and with them the knowledge of what he was capable of....or not capable of.
He felt ages of training and muscles that even now moved almost of their own accord. Instinct. Over time, it had come to replace the training. Of course, instinct will only get you so far; it works mainly for defense. Offense, however, is another story.
Manipulation, being able to think beyond the battle, where to maneuver the fight so I have the advantage of terrain. How do I set him up with one move so I can hit him with another that he cannot shift his guard to fast enough?
And of course, no two battles are the same.
'I hate feeling vulnerable!' He spun about, slicing off the tops of the long blades of grass in the overgrown area of the property. His invisible opponent just lost a leg...unless he had jumped, of course. 'Almost as much as I hate being figured out!'
He brought the Ivanhoe about and the invisible immortal lost his head.
'Bravo, Nadya, dear sweet girl.'
Methos chuckled and headed back to the house for a shower.
.....................................................................................................................................................................
Piotr turned to be greeted by Nadya entering from the gardens. He saw the remains of the tears on her cheeks.
He reached out a hand and took her arm. "Are you all right?"
She glanced up at the tall Russian, biting her lip a little. "Yes. No. I don't know."
He slid his hand gently down her arm and took her hand, reaching out and taking the other hand as well. Her small brown hands disappeared within his large ones. He stared at them for a while and then lifted his eyes to look into hers.
"What?" her voice was soft, low, almost not there.
"I want you to be all right. I would have you smile again, Nadya. Yah hachoo etahvah! (I want that!)"
Nadya lowered her head. "Piotr, smiling is not something that comes easily for me anymore. Life is hard. Tears come more easily."
Then, to her amazement, he lowered his head and kissed both of her tear-stained cheeks. "Then give me your tears," he whispered.
She could feel his breath on her skin.
Piotr encased both her hands in his left against his chest, the fingertips of his right grazing her cheek gently as he moved towards her again. "And you take my smile."
...............................................................................................................................................
Methos paused at the turn of the corner, watching. He saw but knew he wasn't seen; they were too engaged in each other.
Had Nadya been kissed since he met her? She hadn't said so; he wasn't even sure she had dated over the past few years.
Something inside him twitched and twisted, wanted to hurt, but he denied it. He refused to give it quarter.
'Why should I? It isn't like she's Alexa.'
With that, he turned and walked away towards his room.
Nadya stepped back, though she desperately wanted to stay in Piotr's arms.
Every nerve in her body was awake and alive, heat stinging her cheeks, layering soft pink over chocolate. His kiss had surged through her, speeding up her heartbeat and causing her stomach to do flip-flops. She'd never felt like that before...no, not true. Once.
"Piotr, I..." His fingers stopped her lips.
"Ti nye dolzhen gavaresh, Nadya (You don't have to say anything, Nadya.)." He reached up and caressed her cheekbone with his thumb but did not make another movement towards her. "I am not here to force you into anything. Just know that I'm here."
With those final words, he stepped back and continued on out the door, leaving her alone again.
Nadya stepped back until her back met the wall. Then she slumped down against it and cried again. Tears were the only expression she knew now.