Chapter 7
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Duncan wandered through the upper floors of the house, contemplating that morning. How in the world had things come to this? How had the world itself come to this?
'400 years' experience and I still do not understand it all,' he mused as he paused before a Monet. It was one of the artist's garden scenes; a garden that Duncan himself had once visited. If life were only as simple as art, what a world it would be. If all emotion could simply be in encased in marble and expressed in music, how different things would be. Differences would be treasured, abilities revered.
But it was not so.
There was a quiet thunk and Joe paused in the doorway.
"Why me, Joe?" Mac asked, not turning around.
The old Watcher made his way over to his friend. "I honestly don't know, my friend. But I wouldn't have anyone else for the job."
Mac smiled quietly at the man who knew as much or more about him than he did. Joe was indeed a blessing to have around.
"I remember the lady you took to that garden. Margarite, I believe her name was," Joe commented, nodding towards the painting. "She was a keeper, Mac."
Duncan laid his hand on Joe's shoulder. "You'll never change, old friend."
Ororo heard a knock on the door to her room and got up to answer it, even though she would have preferred to be alone for a while.
"Hello, Scott." She stood back and let him walk into the room. She could tell he was agitated, and tired, they all were. Ororo went back to the overstuffed chair that occupied a corner of the room. She had been staring at the small sketch in the corner. It was not like some of the other famous works of art in the villa; instead, it was a simple ink sketch of some old overgrown ruins. The architecture looked Italian, but she wasn't sure. Not that it mattered.
"This is never going to work." Scott said after pacing about a few minutes. He picked up a figurine from a bookshelf: a small sculpted stone rabbit.
"Never know until we try." Ororo offered, playing the optimist. Devil's advocate? She shook the thought from her mind.
"It's just...I don't see the point of trying sometimes. Oh, I know 'why' we do what we do...I 'understand' it. But I find I have to force myself to care. It hasn't been the same since......" Scott paused, clenched his fist. After a moment, he sighed but didn't continue his statement.
"I miss her, too." Ororo breathed. He nodded then continued.
"As for this....mess....I just don't know. Even if we could trust the people here, what about the rest of them?"
"An entire species dedicated to its own destruction...it doesn't make sense."
Scott snorted and said, "From what MacLeod said, they all have a good excuse for it: ultimate power."
"Sounds like Magneto. A scary thought."
"I would have to disagree with you." The Professor's voice chimed in both their heads. "My apologies for interrupting, and overhearing."
"It's alright, Professor." Ororo said.
"Why do you disagree?" Scott asked.
"The feeling that most of them gave off while speaking of it was....." Xavier paused a moment re-wording his statement. ".....of all the emotions I felt, pain was the strongest....then sadness....then fear." The two could almost feel the Professor shake his head. "They may play this game....but I don't think they like it."
"Just the same, Professor, are you sure it is wise to become involved with them? Maybe we should just leave well enough alone." Scott proposed after a moment.
"We are already involved, Scott." Ororo answered for Xavier.
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Logan passed Piotr as the younger man mounted the stairs to head to his room. The Wolverine's nostrils flared a moment at the scent that hung around Piotr and then a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. Lilac and woods. But he let the guy move on with a nod, strangely not wanting to mess with him.
'Yet.'
Right now, he had other things on his mind, and he caught a familiar scent and began to track it, wondering where she had gotten to. It didn't take him long to find her outside in the smaller garden. Here, he noted as he went down the stairs, there were no pungent flowers to assault his senses. Just the smell of earth and dirt....and her.
Talia.
She was lying on one of the large stone slabs placed about the garden. Her eyes were focused on the sky above, tracing the clouds. In reality, her mind was miles away....and millennia past.
Logan sat down next to her and watched her for a few minutes.
'For a moment.....for a terrifying moment...I thought the voices were back.' Talia mused. Slowly, so as not to jar herself, she pulled her mind back to the present.
Logan watched her eyes blink; then, before they even focused on him, her foot jutted out and knocked him back off the stone! He took the blow and turned it into a roll and ended up on his feet in a crouch.
Snickt The claws came out!
Talia was crouched on the stone. A beat passed and she blinked again. "I'm sorry," she said, pulling her body out of the crouch and sitting down on the stone. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"
"I didn't sneak! You were practically looking at me!" Logan rose.
"Physically, yes." Talia nodded.
Logan retracted the claws.
Talia smirked. "A little uptight, are we?"
"Me?" Logan questioned as straightened, an almost invisible curl to the side of his mouth. Things were quiet for a while and then he spoke again. "Where were you?"
Talia cocked her head to the side, a questioning posture. "Not where...when." she replied and turned, looking off over the countryside, her eyes taking on a bit of that far-away look again.
"In the past?" Logan questioned further.
A small nod was his answer.
"You spend a lot of time there?"
Again, the nod.
"Why?" This time the question was sincere; it deserved an answer and she gave it.
"For the same reason that I could not answer your first question: 'where was I'. The where is gone. Its dust doesn't even remain anymore. It's been frozen, melted, built up, and torn down. I wouldn't recognize the ground it stood on, even if it still somehow existed."
"What happened to it?" Logan asked, his eyes never having left her form.
Talia was silent and then her voice came...low...as though it was not her own but something darker, fiercer, something frightening.
"It wasn't Immortal."
Silence.
"How old are you, Logan? And don't trade back your earlier comment." She smirked, still not looking at him.
He somehow thought the question was meant to change the subject and didn't fight it this time. "I...don't know. Jea...a friend once told me that my regenerative powers make my age impossible to figure out. And I don't remember anything before the past seventeen years so...who knows?"
Talia sort of snickered to herself.
"What?"
She hopped off the stone. "You might as well be Immortal, my friend. In fact, you could very well be. A new breed of Immortal."
"No." There was a stiffness in the one word that told Talia to never suggest such a thing again.
She gave an acquiescent nod. "Very well then."
Logan shoved his hands into his pockets and took a few steps around the rock, as though searching for a conversation topic. "Have you noticed...?"
"Nadya and your young friend?" Talia smiled. "Yes. I've noticed."
"I think they were together a little while ago." Logan commented offhandedly.
"Why so?"
He turned, that almost-invisible curl to the corner of his mouth again. "I could smell her on him when he passed me on the stairs."
Talia chuckled. "Nadya hasn't been with anyone for a good several years. It's difficult to hold down a relationship in a situation such as ours."
"Whoa, whoa!" Logan held up a hand, shaking his head. "She said that she was mortal."
"I never said she wasn't," Talia returned softly. She knew of Nadya's latent immortality but would not breathe it to anyone who might tell the child. For some reason, Mac refused to let her know and had threatened them into silence. He wanted her to have a 'normal life'.
'Please, define normal,' Talia mused, rolling her eyes at the thought of the present situation.
"I need to relax," she announced, and then hopped down from the stone and moved off indoors. "You coming?" she called back over her shoulder.
After a moment's hesitation, he followed. Logan suddenly jumped back as sharp metal came swinging through the air at him, air whistling over its edges! He had just entered one of the open rooms on the ground floor. Taken aback at the weaponry lining the walls, he had not paid attention to the attack.
"Whoa!" Snickt Out snapped the claws, one just blocking a sai as it came at his face! He locked the sai within his claws, bringing Talia's form close to his. He looked for signs of animosity but found only that mischievous twinkle in those myriad eyes. She was playing!
Talia smiled and, amazingly, Logan smiled back.
"Let's dance!"
Pushing back, he drew stance and so did Talia, the sais her 'claws'. Soon metal rang off metal the sounds striking the stone walls and coming back in echo. The two warriors moved back and forth, neither giving ground nor really gaining any.
They pushed off again, both standing at defense.
"Where'd you learn to fight like this?" Logan growled, teeth bared.
Talia cocked her head to the side. "Experience, child." The curl was there at her mouth again.
It appeared at Logan's, too, and he rushed her again. The woman complied by front flipping over him, landing her foot in between his shoulder blades on her way down.
Hidden within the shadows of the doorway, Nadya watched. The two figures too engrossed in their own dance to notice the hidden figure.
Suddenly, Talia let her guard down as her opponent charged and Logan's claws ripped into her stomach!! Her hand dropped its sai and clamped down on his wrist.
Logan's mouth dropped open.
"I can't take this," Nadya shook her head and muttered to herself. "It's too much." With that, she stepped back into the shadows and disappeared.
Finally, Logan was able to shut his mouth and quickly retracted his claw. He put an arm around Talia to support her weight as her body went limp.
She smiled, panting slightly from the exercise and loss of blood. "Good game."
Logan nodded, his breathing also heavy.
"Hold on. I'll be right back..." Her eyes rolled back into her head. She was dead...almost.
Logan looked at the still form....heard her heart give a few last beats then quiet itself.
'Serene.' His brain conjured up a thought at how she looked. It wasn't the same as when he had killed...thought he had killed Mystique. Part of his mind knew she had dropped her guard on purpose. He knew that this was a ploy to get him to trust her.
'I could cut off her head now...she knows that.' Logan grunted and looked where his claws had gone into her stomach. The blood had pooled on the floor. Then, as he watched, tiny flickers of light had begun to dance across the holes, pulling the skin together to meet.
On the other side of the manor, the thudding of horse's hooves disappeared over the hill.
Logan watched as a moment later she gasped for breath with wide eye, then a bought of coughing. He leaned back watching as she looked about the room, as if recognizing it for the first time. Then her eyes locked onto his and...
'It's almost as if she doesn't know me.'
Talia blinked. 'Right...Logan...mutant....present....the past is gone....deep on!'
"You OK?"
"Just fine...Logan....we should get back."
Logan moved back some as she stood. He grabbed her by the arm as she tried to pass him, and she looked up at him in question.
"Do you....uh...see anything....when you...die?" It wasn't really what he wanted to ask her but it was what came out of his mouth.
Talia smiled. "I don't know...what do you think I should be looking for?" She stepped closer to him.
Logan's brow furrowed before blurting, "Uh...tunnel....white light....music ....or something like that." He shrugged. Her scent was heady in his nostrils; she was so close that, at the moment, he didn't care all that much what the answer was....or even if he got one. However, when she responded, he wished he hadn't.
"I will tell you." She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "...I do not worry about what I see when I am dead....I spend far too much effort on avoiding what I see while I am alive."
"And am I included in that?" he bristled at the assumed snub. Not that he hadn't been rejected before but it did not mean that he had to like it.
Her expression further confused him. "No....I was....never mind." She shook her head. "I should get back." As she pulled back, she glanced briefly at him and then left the room.
Logan looked back at the pool of blood on the floor.
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"Where is Nadya?" MacLeod asked as the room filled a while later.
Methos quipped, "Probably with Talia." His eyes moved over to the young Russian, who looked a bit on edge. 'Oh, this is going to get interesting...I can feel it.' Methos kept the smile at bay and fingered his bottle of beer. He took a pull as Logan entered the room.
The man glared at him.
'Yes, definitely interesting.'
But, this time, he didn't have to fight back a smile. Logan's glare at him cut off as Talia entered the room. Her black hair damp and pulled up, held in place by two pins, some falling at her shoulders. A pair of blue jeans and a large burgundy sweater....
'Hey, that's mine!' Methos glared at her.
Talia smiled widely at him.
He found himself returning it, glad to feel the rift closing between them. Talia moved sat on the wide stone railing again.
Logan felt his claws want to come out at the smile she had given the ancient....given that....that... He swallowed a growl that wanted to emit, annoyed that she would be nice to Methos. When she moved by, he caught her scent. Hers and... Logan swallowed hard and clenched his jaw. He could smell Methos all over her! The two scents intertwined.
'How could I have missed something like that?!' His nostrils flared.
Talia noted Logan's expression and tried to catch his eye, but he ignored her. Then she realized MacLeod was talking to her.
"Sorry, what?"
"Where is Nadya?" the Scot asked again.
Talia suddenly felt very cold. She closed her eyes. Nothing. 'Nadya, where are you?' Talia could sense other immortals far off...even pre-immortals like Nadya, but there was nothing there at the moment. She tried to think of when the last time she felt her had been. But couldn't recall.
'Last time I saw her, she was here.' Talia's fists clenched....and now Duncan was saying something.
"I don't know!" She realized she had yelled, but didn't care and they had agreed not to tell the others about Nadya being a pre-immortal. Talia shook her head.
"The last time I saw her was here before she left." The eldest Immortal gestured about the room, hoping Methos and Mac would catch on that she could not feel the girl either.
Duncan frowned.
Methos spoke up. "She was here about two...three hours ago," he said, peeling the label from his beer bottle, not letting the stress show in his voice.
"Where?" Duncan asked.
"Out in the garden." Methos looked at Piotr. He though he saw a blush, barely, as he asked in flawless Russian, "Etah byla proshlyem razom kagdah v veedyelee eyeh? (Was that the last time you saw her?)" He kept the emotion from his voice.
Piotr stood, his stance defensive. "Yah neekagda nye travmeeroval by eyeh! (I would never hurt her!)" His fists clenched but he kept his armor from engaging.
"Neekagda nye ochen dolgaye vryemyah. (Never is a very long time.)" Then the old man switched back to English.
"But I didn't ask you that. I asked if that was the last time you saw her."
"Yes." Piotr answered tersely.
Methos nodded.
"What are you suggesting?" Scott asked defensively, standing.
Methos sighed and set down the beer bottle. "I was trying to be sure of the last time Nadya was seen." He held his hands up in resignation.
Ororo looked to the professor and asked, "Can you sense her?"
"At the moment, no. But if I were to get away from...the stress in this room, I might be able to." Charles looked at Scott and then at Piotr.
"Would you?" Joe asked from his seat.
Charles nodded but was interrupted.
"What....how was Nadya when you saw her?" Duncan approached Piotr.
The youth took a step back, feeling threatened, and his armor covered his body.
Duncan stopped. "I'm nay after harm nor fight, lad, but when did ye see her last?" He realized he was upset as he heard the brogue in his voice. "How was she?" He forced his voice to level.
"Piotr, calm down, please." Ororo said, trying to hang onto her own temper.
Suddenly, a loud crashing sound split the tension in the room, followed by a loud, even voice!
"Now that I have your attention!" Methos let his voice borderline a snarl. The remains of a half-empty beer bottle lay shattered against the far wall. "Nadya is missing. This...argument...can wait."
"And why should we listen to you?! This is your fault...you attacked us! And they call us monsters!" Logan yelled back.
"Duncan, she might have taken one of the horses....I would have heard if she took a car. And I don't think she would have set off on foot." Talia stood, running a hand though her hair. "Methos, if you could take my car and head into town, we can start looking there, too."
The room was quiet in response to her words. Talia looked about at everyone. Then she sort of gave a little laugh.
"What? You want me to join in the argument as well? To argue who is the guilty party? Sorry....I am far to old for that! Methos is, too....but he won't admit it. Too old and tired to play games. My friend is missing! And, frankly, the future of our two species can go to ruin....I hold her life in more value than any peace we could reach."
"How long will it be before they come after you, too?" Charles voiced the question that everyone had been thinking for hours. He was hoping to salvage the situation that the flaring tempers had created.
He had asked Talia this but got his answer from the tall man in the baggy grey sweater and faded blue jeans.
"Ever been burned at a stake?" Methos smiled sardonically. "No? Stoned? How about drowned?" He articulated carefully what he was saying, his smile falling, and leaned forward in his chair before leaping up out of it.
"Ever been beaten.....tortured?! Have you ever died so many times that you prayed that the stupid creatures that were calling you a demon would get lucky and cut off your head so the pain would stop?!"
With that, Methos turned and walked to the door, pausing before leaving. "And have you ever wondered...are they right? The worst part is, it will happen again....given enough time, enough provocation. We will be hunted and tortured all over again. History cycles; not directly, never in perfect repeats, but like stupid fashion crazes keep coming back, history will repeat itself. And then.....then I will be the monster they need me to be." Without another word, he left the room.
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Duncan wandered through the upper floors of the house, contemplating that morning. How in the world had things come to this? How had the world itself come to this?
'400 years' experience and I still do not understand it all,' he mused as he paused before a Monet. It was one of the artist's garden scenes; a garden that Duncan himself had once visited. If life were only as simple as art, what a world it would be. If all emotion could simply be in encased in marble and expressed in music, how different things would be. Differences would be treasured, abilities revered.
But it was not so.
There was a quiet thunk and Joe paused in the doorway.
"Why me, Joe?" Mac asked, not turning around.
The old Watcher made his way over to his friend. "I honestly don't know, my friend. But I wouldn't have anyone else for the job."
Mac smiled quietly at the man who knew as much or more about him than he did. Joe was indeed a blessing to have around.
"I remember the lady you took to that garden. Margarite, I believe her name was," Joe commented, nodding towards the painting. "She was a keeper, Mac."
Duncan laid his hand on Joe's shoulder. "You'll never change, old friend."
Ororo heard a knock on the door to her room and got up to answer it, even though she would have preferred to be alone for a while.
"Hello, Scott." She stood back and let him walk into the room. She could tell he was agitated, and tired, they all were. Ororo went back to the overstuffed chair that occupied a corner of the room. She had been staring at the small sketch in the corner. It was not like some of the other famous works of art in the villa; instead, it was a simple ink sketch of some old overgrown ruins. The architecture looked Italian, but she wasn't sure. Not that it mattered.
"This is never going to work." Scott said after pacing about a few minutes. He picked up a figurine from a bookshelf: a small sculpted stone rabbit.
"Never know until we try." Ororo offered, playing the optimist. Devil's advocate? She shook the thought from her mind.
"It's just...I don't see the point of trying sometimes. Oh, I know 'why' we do what we do...I 'understand' it. But I find I have to force myself to care. It hasn't been the same since......" Scott paused, clenched his fist. After a moment, he sighed but didn't continue his statement.
"I miss her, too." Ororo breathed. He nodded then continued.
"As for this....mess....I just don't know. Even if we could trust the people here, what about the rest of them?"
"An entire species dedicated to its own destruction...it doesn't make sense."
Scott snorted and said, "From what MacLeod said, they all have a good excuse for it: ultimate power."
"Sounds like Magneto. A scary thought."
"I would have to disagree with you." The Professor's voice chimed in both their heads. "My apologies for interrupting, and overhearing."
"It's alright, Professor." Ororo said.
"Why do you disagree?" Scott asked.
"The feeling that most of them gave off while speaking of it was....." Xavier paused a moment re-wording his statement. ".....of all the emotions I felt, pain was the strongest....then sadness....then fear." The two could almost feel the Professor shake his head. "They may play this game....but I don't think they like it."
"Just the same, Professor, are you sure it is wise to become involved with them? Maybe we should just leave well enough alone." Scott proposed after a moment.
"We are already involved, Scott." Ororo answered for Xavier.
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Logan passed Piotr as the younger man mounted the stairs to head to his room. The Wolverine's nostrils flared a moment at the scent that hung around Piotr and then a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. Lilac and woods. But he let the guy move on with a nod, strangely not wanting to mess with him.
'Yet.'
Right now, he had other things on his mind, and he caught a familiar scent and began to track it, wondering where she had gotten to. It didn't take him long to find her outside in the smaller garden. Here, he noted as he went down the stairs, there were no pungent flowers to assault his senses. Just the smell of earth and dirt....and her.
Talia.
She was lying on one of the large stone slabs placed about the garden. Her eyes were focused on the sky above, tracing the clouds. In reality, her mind was miles away....and millennia past.
Logan sat down next to her and watched her for a few minutes.
'For a moment.....for a terrifying moment...I thought the voices were back.' Talia mused. Slowly, so as not to jar herself, she pulled her mind back to the present.
Logan watched her eyes blink; then, before they even focused on him, her foot jutted out and knocked him back off the stone! He took the blow and turned it into a roll and ended up on his feet in a crouch.
Snickt The claws came out!
Talia was crouched on the stone. A beat passed and she blinked again. "I'm sorry," she said, pulling her body out of the crouch and sitting down on the stone. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"
"I didn't sneak! You were practically looking at me!" Logan rose.
"Physically, yes." Talia nodded.
Logan retracted the claws.
Talia smirked. "A little uptight, are we?"
"Me?" Logan questioned as straightened, an almost invisible curl to the side of his mouth. Things were quiet for a while and then he spoke again. "Where were you?"
Talia cocked her head to the side, a questioning posture. "Not where...when." she replied and turned, looking off over the countryside, her eyes taking on a bit of that far-away look again.
"In the past?" Logan questioned further.
A small nod was his answer.
"You spend a lot of time there?"
Again, the nod.
"Why?" This time the question was sincere; it deserved an answer and she gave it.
"For the same reason that I could not answer your first question: 'where was I'. The where is gone. Its dust doesn't even remain anymore. It's been frozen, melted, built up, and torn down. I wouldn't recognize the ground it stood on, even if it still somehow existed."
"What happened to it?" Logan asked, his eyes never having left her form.
Talia was silent and then her voice came...low...as though it was not her own but something darker, fiercer, something frightening.
"It wasn't Immortal."
Silence.
"How old are you, Logan? And don't trade back your earlier comment." She smirked, still not looking at him.
He somehow thought the question was meant to change the subject and didn't fight it this time. "I...don't know. Jea...a friend once told me that my regenerative powers make my age impossible to figure out. And I don't remember anything before the past seventeen years so...who knows?"
Talia sort of snickered to herself.
"What?"
She hopped off the stone. "You might as well be Immortal, my friend. In fact, you could very well be. A new breed of Immortal."
"No." There was a stiffness in the one word that told Talia to never suggest such a thing again.
She gave an acquiescent nod. "Very well then."
Logan shoved his hands into his pockets and took a few steps around the rock, as though searching for a conversation topic. "Have you noticed...?"
"Nadya and your young friend?" Talia smiled. "Yes. I've noticed."
"I think they were together a little while ago." Logan commented offhandedly.
"Why so?"
He turned, that almost-invisible curl to the corner of his mouth again. "I could smell her on him when he passed me on the stairs."
Talia chuckled. "Nadya hasn't been with anyone for a good several years. It's difficult to hold down a relationship in a situation such as ours."
"Whoa, whoa!" Logan held up a hand, shaking his head. "She said that she was mortal."
"I never said she wasn't," Talia returned softly. She knew of Nadya's latent immortality but would not breathe it to anyone who might tell the child. For some reason, Mac refused to let her know and had threatened them into silence. He wanted her to have a 'normal life'.
'Please, define normal,' Talia mused, rolling her eyes at the thought of the present situation.
"I need to relax," she announced, and then hopped down from the stone and moved off indoors. "You coming?" she called back over her shoulder.
After a moment's hesitation, he followed. Logan suddenly jumped back as sharp metal came swinging through the air at him, air whistling over its edges! He had just entered one of the open rooms on the ground floor. Taken aback at the weaponry lining the walls, he had not paid attention to the attack.
"Whoa!" Snickt Out snapped the claws, one just blocking a sai as it came at his face! He locked the sai within his claws, bringing Talia's form close to his. He looked for signs of animosity but found only that mischievous twinkle in those myriad eyes. She was playing!
Talia smiled and, amazingly, Logan smiled back.
"Let's dance!"
Pushing back, he drew stance and so did Talia, the sais her 'claws'. Soon metal rang off metal the sounds striking the stone walls and coming back in echo. The two warriors moved back and forth, neither giving ground nor really gaining any.
They pushed off again, both standing at defense.
"Where'd you learn to fight like this?" Logan growled, teeth bared.
Talia cocked her head to the side. "Experience, child." The curl was there at her mouth again.
It appeared at Logan's, too, and he rushed her again. The woman complied by front flipping over him, landing her foot in between his shoulder blades on her way down.
Hidden within the shadows of the doorway, Nadya watched. The two figures too engrossed in their own dance to notice the hidden figure.
Suddenly, Talia let her guard down as her opponent charged and Logan's claws ripped into her stomach!! Her hand dropped its sai and clamped down on his wrist.
Logan's mouth dropped open.
"I can't take this," Nadya shook her head and muttered to herself. "It's too much." With that, she stepped back into the shadows and disappeared.
Finally, Logan was able to shut his mouth and quickly retracted his claw. He put an arm around Talia to support her weight as her body went limp.
She smiled, panting slightly from the exercise and loss of blood. "Good game."
Logan nodded, his breathing also heavy.
"Hold on. I'll be right back..." Her eyes rolled back into her head. She was dead...almost.
Logan looked at the still form....heard her heart give a few last beats then quiet itself.
'Serene.' His brain conjured up a thought at how she looked. It wasn't the same as when he had killed...thought he had killed Mystique. Part of his mind knew she had dropped her guard on purpose. He knew that this was a ploy to get him to trust her.
'I could cut off her head now...she knows that.' Logan grunted and looked where his claws had gone into her stomach. The blood had pooled on the floor. Then, as he watched, tiny flickers of light had begun to dance across the holes, pulling the skin together to meet.
On the other side of the manor, the thudding of horse's hooves disappeared over the hill.
Logan watched as a moment later she gasped for breath with wide eye, then a bought of coughing. He leaned back watching as she looked about the room, as if recognizing it for the first time. Then her eyes locked onto his and...
'It's almost as if she doesn't know me.'
Talia blinked. 'Right...Logan...mutant....present....the past is gone....deep on!'
"You OK?"
"Just fine...Logan....we should get back."
Logan moved back some as she stood. He grabbed her by the arm as she tried to pass him, and she looked up at him in question.
"Do you....uh...see anything....when you...die?" It wasn't really what he wanted to ask her but it was what came out of his mouth.
Talia smiled. "I don't know...what do you think I should be looking for?" She stepped closer to him.
Logan's brow furrowed before blurting, "Uh...tunnel....white light....music ....or something like that." He shrugged. Her scent was heady in his nostrils; she was so close that, at the moment, he didn't care all that much what the answer was....or even if he got one. However, when she responded, he wished he hadn't.
"I will tell you." She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "...I do not worry about what I see when I am dead....I spend far too much effort on avoiding what I see while I am alive."
"And am I included in that?" he bristled at the assumed snub. Not that he hadn't been rejected before but it did not mean that he had to like it.
Her expression further confused him. "No....I was....never mind." She shook her head. "I should get back." As she pulled back, she glanced briefly at him and then left the room.
Logan looked back at the pool of blood on the floor.
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"Where is Nadya?" MacLeod asked as the room filled a while later.
Methos quipped, "Probably with Talia." His eyes moved over to the young Russian, who looked a bit on edge. 'Oh, this is going to get interesting...I can feel it.' Methos kept the smile at bay and fingered his bottle of beer. He took a pull as Logan entered the room.
The man glared at him.
'Yes, definitely interesting.'
But, this time, he didn't have to fight back a smile. Logan's glare at him cut off as Talia entered the room. Her black hair damp and pulled up, held in place by two pins, some falling at her shoulders. A pair of blue jeans and a large burgundy sweater....
'Hey, that's mine!' Methos glared at her.
Talia smiled widely at him.
He found himself returning it, glad to feel the rift closing between them. Talia moved sat on the wide stone railing again.
Logan felt his claws want to come out at the smile she had given the ancient....given that....that... He swallowed a growl that wanted to emit, annoyed that she would be nice to Methos. When she moved by, he caught her scent. Hers and... Logan swallowed hard and clenched his jaw. He could smell Methos all over her! The two scents intertwined.
'How could I have missed something like that?!' His nostrils flared.
Talia noted Logan's expression and tried to catch his eye, but he ignored her. Then she realized MacLeod was talking to her.
"Sorry, what?"
"Where is Nadya?" the Scot asked again.
Talia suddenly felt very cold. She closed her eyes. Nothing. 'Nadya, where are you?' Talia could sense other immortals far off...even pre-immortals like Nadya, but there was nothing there at the moment. She tried to think of when the last time she felt her had been. But couldn't recall.
'Last time I saw her, she was here.' Talia's fists clenched....and now Duncan was saying something.
"I don't know!" She realized she had yelled, but didn't care and they had agreed not to tell the others about Nadya being a pre-immortal. Talia shook her head.
"The last time I saw her was here before she left." The eldest Immortal gestured about the room, hoping Methos and Mac would catch on that she could not feel the girl either.
Duncan frowned.
Methos spoke up. "She was here about two...three hours ago," he said, peeling the label from his beer bottle, not letting the stress show in his voice.
"Where?" Duncan asked.
"Out in the garden." Methos looked at Piotr. He though he saw a blush, barely, as he asked in flawless Russian, "Etah byla proshlyem razom kagdah v veedyelee eyeh? (Was that the last time you saw her?)" He kept the emotion from his voice.
Piotr stood, his stance defensive. "Yah neekagda nye travmeeroval by eyeh! (I would never hurt her!)" His fists clenched but he kept his armor from engaging.
"Neekagda nye ochen dolgaye vryemyah. (Never is a very long time.)" Then the old man switched back to English.
"But I didn't ask you that. I asked if that was the last time you saw her."
"Yes." Piotr answered tersely.
Methos nodded.
"What are you suggesting?" Scott asked defensively, standing.
Methos sighed and set down the beer bottle. "I was trying to be sure of the last time Nadya was seen." He held his hands up in resignation.
Ororo looked to the professor and asked, "Can you sense her?"
"At the moment, no. But if I were to get away from...the stress in this room, I might be able to." Charles looked at Scott and then at Piotr.
"Would you?" Joe asked from his seat.
Charles nodded but was interrupted.
"What....how was Nadya when you saw her?" Duncan approached Piotr.
The youth took a step back, feeling threatened, and his armor covered his body.
Duncan stopped. "I'm nay after harm nor fight, lad, but when did ye see her last?" He realized he was upset as he heard the brogue in his voice. "How was she?" He forced his voice to level.
"Piotr, calm down, please." Ororo said, trying to hang onto her own temper.
Suddenly, a loud crashing sound split the tension in the room, followed by a loud, even voice!
"Now that I have your attention!" Methos let his voice borderline a snarl. The remains of a half-empty beer bottle lay shattered against the far wall. "Nadya is missing. This...argument...can wait."
"And why should we listen to you?! This is your fault...you attacked us! And they call us monsters!" Logan yelled back.
"Duncan, she might have taken one of the horses....I would have heard if she took a car. And I don't think she would have set off on foot." Talia stood, running a hand though her hair. "Methos, if you could take my car and head into town, we can start looking there, too."
The room was quiet in response to her words. Talia looked about at everyone. Then she sort of gave a little laugh.
"What? You want me to join in the argument as well? To argue who is the guilty party? Sorry....I am far to old for that! Methos is, too....but he won't admit it. Too old and tired to play games. My friend is missing! And, frankly, the future of our two species can go to ruin....I hold her life in more value than any peace we could reach."
"How long will it be before they come after you, too?" Charles voiced the question that everyone had been thinking for hours. He was hoping to salvage the situation that the flaring tempers had created.
He had asked Talia this but got his answer from the tall man in the baggy grey sweater and faded blue jeans.
"Ever been burned at a stake?" Methos smiled sardonically. "No? Stoned? How about drowned?" He articulated carefully what he was saying, his smile falling, and leaned forward in his chair before leaping up out of it.
"Ever been beaten.....tortured?! Have you ever died so many times that you prayed that the stupid creatures that were calling you a demon would get lucky and cut off your head so the pain would stop?!"
With that, Methos turned and walked to the door, pausing before leaving. "And have you ever wondered...are they right? The worst part is, it will happen again....given enough time, enough provocation. We will be hunted and tortured all over again. History cycles; not directly, never in perfect repeats, but like stupid fashion crazes keep coming back, history will repeat itself. And then.....then I will be the monster they need me to be." Without another word, he left the room.