Chapter 16
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Ororo swallowed; it hurt. But not so much as before. She still felt weak, but not so much as before. She knew she needed food, though. Duncan had promised to make her an easy lunch so that she could start getting some nutrients into her system again.
'Note to self: getting shot hurts...a lot.'
"Storm?"
Rogue.
"Hello, dear," Ororo said quietly. "Good to see you."
Rogue smiled slightly and sat on the footstool that had been placed by the sofa. "Are you feeling better?"
Ororo nodded. "A bit. I think I will sit up soon, if the Professor will let me." She then noticed the preoccupied look on Rogue's face. "Rogue, are you all right?"
Silence for a while. Then the young mutant shook her head.
"What is wrong?"
Rogue hesitated; she wasn't quite sure how to put this. It wasn't like she owned him or had rights to him or something. "I saw...I saw Logan and-what's her name-Talia sleeping out on the terrace this morning."
Ororo smiled, for she knew even better than Rogue the young girl's feelings for the rough Wolverine. "Do not worry yourself, Rogue. You won't lose him, never really. But Logan has to live his own life with his own loves. You have Bobby, after all." She sighed with the exertion it took to say the words. "Personally, I am glad for him; ever since Jean..." Ororo stopped there.
Rogue knew what she meant and nodded.
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"Highlander, protector of the innocent, you are needed."
Duncan opened one eye at Talia's droll parody of the call of King Arthur. "You are definitely not Gwenavere," he commented, sitting up in bed.
Talia shrugged smilingly. "Never wanted to be an ideal anyway. Too much work, too much falling off a pedestal, and, from what I have learned of your myths, I could be none of the other heroes either."
Duncan opened his mouth to respond to that but she cut him off.
"Where's Nadya?"
Duncan sat up, pausing to let the blood re-circulate before standing. "I don't know, but I would venture a guess." The highlander smiled. "He was in the garden, last I saw of him."
Talia left.
Duncan wondered that she hadn't included the villains in her statement.
"Methos." Talia broke into their quiet moment.
Nadya lifted her head, as did the old man. "You, Mac, and I need to talk." Methos nodded. Nadya watched as Methos gave her one last squeeze; then the younger woman looked up to Talia. Both knew they needed to talk but the time wasn't right.
Talia paced around the workout room of the villa. A twisted swagger, ovid, around the bench where one immortal sat with slumped back. Duncan stood in the center of the room, arms crossed over his chest, turning as Talia meandered about.
"How could you?!" He finally exploded.
Methos chuckled, bemused at the entire situation, only earning his own glare from the Scot.
"It happens." Talia held out a hand, fingertips barely grazing the stones of the walls.
"That's no excuse! You're immortal. You know how it is. How could you, you of all people, be so careless?"
"And of course it has never happened to you before; no, probably not. You aren't the type." Methos laughed louder at that.
"Type?!" MacLeod gaped.
"Come on, MacLeod! She is more than capable of taking care of herself, it's not like she couldn't survive without it."
"Methos. She lost her sword!" He enunciated each word.
"Misplaced." Talia stated. "It is here...somewhere." She continued to pace.
"Alright. Enough....you can talk and search at the same time." Duncan said. Then he asked Methos, "So what happened."
"The long or the short version?"
"The pertinent version." Talia said, pausing in front of a painting, regarding the piece of artwork before her. She smiled.
Methos explained what happened. Duncan listened. Talia looked at the painting, her anger growing like the storm clouds painted over the ocean of canvas.
"Then Piotr drove us back here and I found Ororo," he finished.
Bobby and Rogue paused outside of the open doorway. They both had heard the ripping sound, though that was quickly replaced by the loud yell of Mr. MacLeod.
"That was an original!"
They crept closer to the door peering around to see what had happened. Both curious about the immortals they had just learned about. They saw Mr. MacLeod, Duncan as he wanted to be called, hands down at his side, mouth open in shock. The one who had attacked the mansion-Bobby was still fighting back some rage for what had happened-was holding his sides with both arms, face red with laughter.
Rogue fought back some tears as the memories of the morning were conjured up at seeing the one called Talia, standing with her forearm through a painting on the wall, hence the ripping sound.
"You assume that I should care." Talia said. Bobby noted the hard tone, and that the one called Methos had stopped laughing as she spoke.
The rustling of fabric, and the two young mutants watched her draw out a long piece of metal. A sword. Talia continued as she pulled it from its hiding place.
"They attacked my friends, took them, took her! In my home, while under my protection! I want them dead." She removed the blade and then turned.
"Slowly." She did not look up; her eyes were on her weapon extended in front of her person. The other two were watching her....one with an expression of confusion, the other of sympathy. "I want him to see it coming, to feel it in his soul." Slowly, the blade came up, leading her eyes up with it, pulling them to focus.
"I want him to die inside as much as possible before his head leaves his body. "
Rogue knew the look in Talia's eyes; she had seen it in Logan's before. 'I can see why he likes you...' They listened to MacLeod begin to tear down what the woman had said, then Bobby touched her shoulder and they left.
"So what? You will hunt him down......like-"
"No," Talia cut him off. "He will come to me....to you." She looked to the older man.
Methos sighed. "She's right, he won't give up. He will be back."
"Ok! So we will wait for him to..."
"No." Talia interrupted again.
Duncan crossed his arms, vexed at the whole situation. "Then... what...do...you....suggest?" he growled.
"I will..."
"No." This time, it was Duncan who broke in.
"Unless you really want him." This she asked Methos.
He sat, arms resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. He considered it a moment but finally shook his head 'no'.
"So you're a coward then?" came a deep voice from the door. Logan entered the room followed by the Professor, who to his credit also spoke in warning.
"Logan."
"Can it, Professor! That's what he is."
Suddenly, the sound of soft chuckling filled the room. Methos' shoulders were shaking slightly from it.
"What would you prefer?" he asked, sitting up. Looking to the mutant. "A coward, a general, a husband, a master, a slave, a killer, a beast, a king? I have been everything, done everything. I am whatever the situation requires. And I do not care what you think about my actions either way. However, these-" Methos' hand encompassed the others in the room with them, "Think we should all be friends, peace and love, but none of the aphrodisiacs to facilitate it. So that," He then rose and walked over to the other man, "Leaves us two options."
Logan had been silent though this and remained so, giving the other man a nod to continue when he caught Talia glaring at him.
"Our respective peoples are more than willing for peace, but it is just the two of us who are causing the rift."
Logan winced inwardly at this.
"You and I can either come to terms, or I can leave."
Logan started at this, not expecting it, not having a response.
"Leave?!" MacLeod gawked.
Methos did not look at him as he answered. "Yes. Leave. Play the coward. Disappear for, oh....how long for this to blow over? One, two hundred years. I'll wedge myself into some little hole somewhere, then come back when I won't be such at catalyst to everything. It wouldn't be the first time." He smiled bitterly as he said this.
Logan just stared at the older man.
"What of the other option?" Xavier asked.
"That would depend on you...." Methos said to Logan. "...and what it will take to get this out of your system."
Logan felt his claws itching, wanting to come out and bury themselves in flesh. He kept them in.
"You will never understand.......even if you bother with that much." He remembered, even looking up to be sure Talia had not repeated what she had said before.
'Time to make a decision.' he thought 'An adult decision, a responsible one.' Could he trust him? No. Work on a team with this immortal? This creature? 'No more a creature than you are,' his conscience told him. He then cussed it out. But that did not make Methos an enemy, he had already proved that; Logan remembered when he had seen the patch on Ororo's shoulder, as Bobby had cleaned it later. Those were some good stitches. Professional. The guy did not have to do that.
"I will never trust you." Logan broke the silence that had settled.
Methos played the statue in turn.
"But I won't try to kill you either...unless you give me a reason to."
Methos took that in and nodded.
"Permanently that is." Logan added as an afterthought.
"You're welcome to try," the older man said.
Then the tension seemed to leave the room and everyone relaxed. Duncan spoke up.
"Professor Xavier, if you want we could meet in about an hour and try to conclude this summit." Duncan heard a laugh from the doorway, where Joe Dawson was standing.
The Watcher spoke up. "It seems like it already has."
Xavier smiled and nodded supplying, "Of course, we should work out some details but, yes, I do believe that we have passed the crest of the hill."
"That only leaves our uninvited guest." Talia said, resting her weapon on her shoulder.
"Talia..."
"The summit is almost over, you all should be able to leave before sunset. You do not need to be in danger anymore that you already are."
"I'm not leaving." Logan said.
"You cannot fight our battles." Duncan told him. He knew Methos wanted to say it but was glad he hadn't challenged the other man; it wouldn't have been a wise move.
"Really?"
Duncan stood his ground. "One on one."
"You gonna stop me, boy scout?"
Talia sighed and then asked Methos, "Would you help me warm up some?"
The older man nodded. "Let me get my sword." He walked off.
"As for the rest of you...Duncan, you should go work things out with Xavier," Talia nodded to the older looking man, "And of course it should be recorded, though more openly than the last one." She looked to Joe.
"It's no fun if they know you're watching." Joe smiled and then slowly stalked off ahead of Xavier.
Talia smiled in turn then turned back to MacLeod. "You know what I am capable of. It's my home, my hospitality that was trashed by that arrogant child. He is mine."
Duncan frowned but left the room.
"As for you...."
"Not leaving."
Talia looked at Logan. Then, just as quickly, she swung her sword at him, aiming for his head! He ducked in time, only to have her foot connect with his chest. He went back, stumbling over the bench and hitting his head on the stone flooring. By the time he had cleared the stars from his eyes, the sword was at his neck, drawing across it. Not cutting the skin but so close to it.
"If you were immortal, you would be dead. I am not doing this because this pup is a threat. He probably has no comparable skills with a sword. I am not doing this to protect you all. Duncan could do that. And, failing him, Methos would. And be careful there; he can play the coward, but only as it suits him. He fooled you there."
Logan scowled at that.
"So why don't you want me here then? Why do you want all of us gone?" he asked, catching her swallow, the narrowing of the eyes: repressed rage.
"Because he has to die, because I do not even want to take the chance of anyone else getting hurt by him, and..." she hurried on, seeing him about to protest that he couldn't get hurt, "…and because I don't want to see the look on your face after I do kill him. On any of your faces."
The blade relented. Logan stood up, placing his hand on hers. The claws inside wanted to come out, just like the blade she held in her hand.
"I'm sor..."
"No." He cut off her apology, drawing her close to him. She rested her head on his neck. His heart was racing, but whether from the activity or what she had said, he wasn't sure. The kiss on his neck did not help to clear the matter any, nor his attempt to sort out the answer. The ones that followed didn't help either, not that he cared.
Piotr had been walking about the villa, not really searching for anything, but when he saw Nadya standing off to the side of a door in the villa he felt that he had found something that was lost.
She did not hear him approach, and when he got there he saw what held her attention. Logan was standing with his arms wrapped around Talia, sharing a long kiss. Nadya looked away and turned to go when she saw him.
Piotr reached out and grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. "Nadya, pazhualsta." He didn't know why he felt so comfortable speaking in Russian to her, but it only served to make her that much more special to him.
Nadya refused to look at him; it hurt too much. How could she tell him that she just couldn't do it? That she couldn't endanger him?
Piotr reached out with his other hand and, cupping her chin, turned her face towards him gently. He ran his thumb over the small bruise on her cheekbone. "Nadya, when he hit you..."
"No!" she yelled and pulled out of his arms! "I won't let it happen to you! I won't do it!" She stood back from him, her arms wrapped around her like a shield. Her eyes were liquidy and red, and her bit her bottom lip, one of her nervous gestures.
Piotr's face was all confusion and pain but she wouldn't let it touch her.
"Methos has died twice because of me! I won't let it happen to you! You won't come back, Piotr." Just then, her eyes looked beyond him and she quickly turned, hurrying out of the corridor. Going somewhere, anywhere.
Piotr looked behind him, tears in his eyes, to see Logan and Talia. They'd heard the noise. Piotr silently retreated in the opposite direction. The Wolverine and the ancient looked at each other before each heading off after their respective comrades.
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Methos drew out the Ivanhoe from under his bed, listening to the shing! as the metal bed-frame touched steel blade.
He wasn't really sure if he wanted to let Talia do this. What if Hayden challenged him first? Then she'd have no choice but to let him fight…but since when did Talia play by the rules of the Game?
'It's my fight to begin with. Well, technically anyway,' he thought, sitting on the bed. As he lifted the sword and looked at the blade, he remembered another sword flat...sliding over Nadya's throat. Heat stirred somewhere deep inside him. Was it anger? Or hatred maybe? Yes-and. He'd given his life to protect this child, but now he realized sharply that a 'normal' life was never possible for her. Not while her life was spent with them.
Yet she chose to stay, even though she knew what their lives entailed. She had chosen.
The scary thing was: this boy had Kronos' cruelty but he had also developed Methos' former calculating coldness, the knowledge of how to hurt your enemy. He knew that, in his most successful dreams, Hayden would keep Nadya like Methos had kept Cassandra, except he would share her out among his comrades after killing her. And there would be no ending it for her; he would kill her spirit, leave her a shell for eternity.
Angered, Methos drove his sword into the floor! The marble tile chipped and cracked, splintered! The steel never gave way.
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Joe sighed as he thunked along beside Charles. "They are like children, aren't they?" he asked.
"Yes, rather. They have their phases and lessons to be learned. Even after thousands of years, it would seem."
Joe nodded. He liked Charles; he felt a sort of kindred affection for this man who also tried to protect and guide those he loved.
"The young ones are having trouble," Charles spoke after a moment. He could feel pain and confusion radiating.
"Piotr and Nadya?"
"Yes."
"I figured as much," Joe sighed, "That poor gal can't decide who her heart belongs to."
Charles gave him a questioning look.
"Oh, a part of her loves Methos, sure enough. But she'll never admit it to him; perhaps won't even admit it to herself." Joe leaned heavily on his cane.
"What about Methos?"
"That old man? Who knows? The last time he loved, it almost destroyed him. I don't know if he'd ever be willing to risk it to that extent again. The inside may be softer but his shell is hard."
Charles nodded, noting his own experience with such kinds of people.
"If Piotr really cares about her, right now he's going to have to hang on for dear life, 'cause it's going to be a bumpy ride for the time being." Joe shrugged his shoulders, and Charles nodded again.
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Ororo swallowed; it hurt. But not so much as before. She still felt weak, but not so much as before. She knew she needed food, though. Duncan had promised to make her an easy lunch so that she could start getting some nutrients into her system again.
'Note to self: getting shot hurts...a lot.'
"Storm?"
Rogue.
"Hello, dear," Ororo said quietly. "Good to see you."
Rogue smiled slightly and sat on the footstool that had been placed by the sofa. "Are you feeling better?"
Ororo nodded. "A bit. I think I will sit up soon, if the Professor will let me." She then noticed the preoccupied look on Rogue's face. "Rogue, are you all right?"
Silence for a while. Then the young mutant shook her head.
"What is wrong?"
Rogue hesitated; she wasn't quite sure how to put this. It wasn't like she owned him or had rights to him or something. "I saw...I saw Logan and-what's her name-Talia sleeping out on the terrace this morning."
Ororo smiled, for she knew even better than Rogue the young girl's feelings for the rough Wolverine. "Do not worry yourself, Rogue. You won't lose him, never really. But Logan has to live his own life with his own loves. You have Bobby, after all." She sighed with the exertion it took to say the words. "Personally, I am glad for him; ever since Jean..." Ororo stopped there.
Rogue knew what she meant and nodded.
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"Highlander, protector of the innocent, you are needed."
Duncan opened one eye at Talia's droll parody of the call of King Arthur. "You are definitely not Gwenavere," he commented, sitting up in bed.
Talia shrugged smilingly. "Never wanted to be an ideal anyway. Too much work, too much falling off a pedestal, and, from what I have learned of your myths, I could be none of the other heroes either."
Duncan opened his mouth to respond to that but she cut him off.
"Where's Nadya?"
Duncan sat up, pausing to let the blood re-circulate before standing. "I don't know, but I would venture a guess." The highlander smiled. "He was in the garden, last I saw of him."
Talia left.
Duncan wondered that she hadn't included the villains in her statement.
"Methos." Talia broke into their quiet moment.
Nadya lifted her head, as did the old man. "You, Mac, and I need to talk." Methos nodded. Nadya watched as Methos gave her one last squeeze; then the younger woman looked up to Talia. Both knew they needed to talk but the time wasn't right.
Talia paced around the workout room of the villa. A twisted swagger, ovid, around the bench where one immortal sat with slumped back. Duncan stood in the center of the room, arms crossed over his chest, turning as Talia meandered about.
"How could you?!" He finally exploded.
Methos chuckled, bemused at the entire situation, only earning his own glare from the Scot.
"It happens." Talia held out a hand, fingertips barely grazing the stones of the walls.
"That's no excuse! You're immortal. You know how it is. How could you, you of all people, be so careless?"
"And of course it has never happened to you before; no, probably not. You aren't the type." Methos laughed louder at that.
"Type?!" MacLeod gaped.
"Come on, MacLeod! She is more than capable of taking care of herself, it's not like she couldn't survive without it."
"Methos. She lost her sword!" He enunciated each word.
"Misplaced." Talia stated. "It is here...somewhere." She continued to pace.
"Alright. Enough....you can talk and search at the same time." Duncan said. Then he asked Methos, "So what happened."
"The long or the short version?"
"The pertinent version." Talia said, pausing in front of a painting, regarding the piece of artwork before her. She smiled.
Methos explained what happened. Duncan listened. Talia looked at the painting, her anger growing like the storm clouds painted over the ocean of canvas.
"Then Piotr drove us back here and I found Ororo," he finished.
Bobby and Rogue paused outside of the open doorway. They both had heard the ripping sound, though that was quickly replaced by the loud yell of Mr. MacLeod.
"That was an original!"
They crept closer to the door peering around to see what had happened. Both curious about the immortals they had just learned about. They saw Mr. MacLeod, Duncan as he wanted to be called, hands down at his side, mouth open in shock. The one who had attacked the mansion-Bobby was still fighting back some rage for what had happened-was holding his sides with both arms, face red with laughter.
Rogue fought back some tears as the memories of the morning were conjured up at seeing the one called Talia, standing with her forearm through a painting on the wall, hence the ripping sound.
"You assume that I should care." Talia said. Bobby noted the hard tone, and that the one called Methos had stopped laughing as she spoke.
The rustling of fabric, and the two young mutants watched her draw out a long piece of metal. A sword. Talia continued as she pulled it from its hiding place.
"They attacked my friends, took them, took her! In my home, while under my protection! I want them dead." She removed the blade and then turned.
"Slowly." She did not look up; her eyes were on her weapon extended in front of her person. The other two were watching her....one with an expression of confusion, the other of sympathy. "I want him to see it coming, to feel it in his soul." Slowly, the blade came up, leading her eyes up with it, pulling them to focus.
"I want him to die inside as much as possible before his head leaves his body. "
Rogue knew the look in Talia's eyes; she had seen it in Logan's before. 'I can see why he likes you...' They listened to MacLeod begin to tear down what the woman had said, then Bobby touched her shoulder and they left.
"So what? You will hunt him down......like-"
"No," Talia cut him off. "He will come to me....to you." She looked to the older man.
Methos sighed. "She's right, he won't give up. He will be back."
"Ok! So we will wait for him to..."
"No." Talia interrupted again.
Duncan crossed his arms, vexed at the whole situation. "Then... what...do...you....suggest?" he growled.
"I will..."
"No." This time, it was Duncan who broke in.
"Unless you really want him." This she asked Methos.
He sat, arms resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. He considered it a moment but finally shook his head 'no'.
"So you're a coward then?" came a deep voice from the door. Logan entered the room followed by the Professor, who to his credit also spoke in warning.
"Logan."
"Can it, Professor! That's what he is."
Suddenly, the sound of soft chuckling filled the room. Methos' shoulders were shaking slightly from it.
"What would you prefer?" he asked, sitting up. Looking to the mutant. "A coward, a general, a husband, a master, a slave, a killer, a beast, a king? I have been everything, done everything. I am whatever the situation requires. And I do not care what you think about my actions either way. However, these-" Methos' hand encompassed the others in the room with them, "Think we should all be friends, peace and love, but none of the aphrodisiacs to facilitate it. So that," He then rose and walked over to the other man, "Leaves us two options."
Logan had been silent though this and remained so, giving the other man a nod to continue when he caught Talia glaring at him.
"Our respective peoples are more than willing for peace, but it is just the two of us who are causing the rift."
Logan winced inwardly at this.
"You and I can either come to terms, or I can leave."
Logan started at this, not expecting it, not having a response.
"Leave?!" MacLeod gawked.
Methos did not look at him as he answered. "Yes. Leave. Play the coward. Disappear for, oh....how long for this to blow over? One, two hundred years. I'll wedge myself into some little hole somewhere, then come back when I won't be such at catalyst to everything. It wouldn't be the first time." He smiled bitterly as he said this.
Logan just stared at the older man.
"What of the other option?" Xavier asked.
"That would depend on you...." Methos said to Logan. "...and what it will take to get this out of your system."
Logan felt his claws itching, wanting to come out and bury themselves in flesh. He kept them in.
"You will never understand.......even if you bother with that much." He remembered, even looking up to be sure Talia had not repeated what she had said before.
'Time to make a decision.' he thought 'An adult decision, a responsible one.' Could he trust him? No. Work on a team with this immortal? This creature? 'No more a creature than you are,' his conscience told him. He then cussed it out. But that did not make Methos an enemy, he had already proved that; Logan remembered when he had seen the patch on Ororo's shoulder, as Bobby had cleaned it later. Those were some good stitches. Professional. The guy did not have to do that.
"I will never trust you." Logan broke the silence that had settled.
Methos played the statue in turn.
"But I won't try to kill you either...unless you give me a reason to."
Methos took that in and nodded.
"Permanently that is." Logan added as an afterthought.
"You're welcome to try," the older man said.
Then the tension seemed to leave the room and everyone relaxed. Duncan spoke up.
"Professor Xavier, if you want we could meet in about an hour and try to conclude this summit." Duncan heard a laugh from the doorway, where Joe Dawson was standing.
The Watcher spoke up. "It seems like it already has."
Xavier smiled and nodded supplying, "Of course, we should work out some details but, yes, I do believe that we have passed the crest of the hill."
"That only leaves our uninvited guest." Talia said, resting her weapon on her shoulder.
"Talia..."
"The summit is almost over, you all should be able to leave before sunset. You do not need to be in danger anymore that you already are."
"I'm not leaving." Logan said.
"You cannot fight our battles." Duncan told him. He knew Methos wanted to say it but was glad he hadn't challenged the other man; it wouldn't have been a wise move.
"Really?"
Duncan stood his ground. "One on one."
"You gonna stop me, boy scout?"
Talia sighed and then asked Methos, "Would you help me warm up some?"
The older man nodded. "Let me get my sword." He walked off.
"As for the rest of you...Duncan, you should go work things out with Xavier," Talia nodded to the older looking man, "And of course it should be recorded, though more openly than the last one." She looked to Joe.
"It's no fun if they know you're watching." Joe smiled and then slowly stalked off ahead of Xavier.
Talia smiled in turn then turned back to MacLeod. "You know what I am capable of. It's my home, my hospitality that was trashed by that arrogant child. He is mine."
Duncan frowned but left the room.
"As for you...."
"Not leaving."
Talia looked at Logan. Then, just as quickly, she swung her sword at him, aiming for his head! He ducked in time, only to have her foot connect with his chest. He went back, stumbling over the bench and hitting his head on the stone flooring. By the time he had cleared the stars from his eyes, the sword was at his neck, drawing across it. Not cutting the skin but so close to it.
"If you were immortal, you would be dead. I am not doing this because this pup is a threat. He probably has no comparable skills with a sword. I am not doing this to protect you all. Duncan could do that. And, failing him, Methos would. And be careful there; he can play the coward, but only as it suits him. He fooled you there."
Logan scowled at that.
"So why don't you want me here then? Why do you want all of us gone?" he asked, catching her swallow, the narrowing of the eyes: repressed rage.
"Because he has to die, because I do not even want to take the chance of anyone else getting hurt by him, and..." she hurried on, seeing him about to protest that he couldn't get hurt, "…and because I don't want to see the look on your face after I do kill him. On any of your faces."
The blade relented. Logan stood up, placing his hand on hers. The claws inside wanted to come out, just like the blade she held in her hand.
"I'm sor..."
"No." He cut off her apology, drawing her close to him. She rested her head on his neck. His heart was racing, but whether from the activity or what she had said, he wasn't sure. The kiss on his neck did not help to clear the matter any, nor his attempt to sort out the answer. The ones that followed didn't help either, not that he cared.
Piotr had been walking about the villa, not really searching for anything, but when he saw Nadya standing off to the side of a door in the villa he felt that he had found something that was lost.
She did not hear him approach, and when he got there he saw what held her attention. Logan was standing with his arms wrapped around Talia, sharing a long kiss. Nadya looked away and turned to go when she saw him.
Piotr reached out and grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. "Nadya, pazhualsta." He didn't know why he felt so comfortable speaking in Russian to her, but it only served to make her that much more special to him.
Nadya refused to look at him; it hurt too much. How could she tell him that she just couldn't do it? That she couldn't endanger him?
Piotr reached out with his other hand and, cupping her chin, turned her face towards him gently. He ran his thumb over the small bruise on her cheekbone. "Nadya, when he hit you..."
"No!" she yelled and pulled out of his arms! "I won't let it happen to you! I won't do it!" She stood back from him, her arms wrapped around her like a shield. Her eyes were liquidy and red, and her bit her bottom lip, one of her nervous gestures.
Piotr's face was all confusion and pain but she wouldn't let it touch her.
"Methos has died twice because of me! I won't let it happen to you! You won't come back, Piotr." Just then, her eyes looked beyond him and she quickly turned, hurrying out of the corridor. Going somewhere, anywhere.
Piotr looked behind him, tears in his eyes, to see Logan and Talia. They'd heard the noise. Piotr silently retreated in the opposite direction. The Wolverine and the ancient looked at each other before each heading off after their respective comrades.
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Methos drew out the Ivanhoe from under his bed, listening to the shing! as the metal bed-frame touched steel blade.
He wasn't really sure if he wanted to let Talia do this. What if Hayden challenged him first? Then she'd have no choice but to let him fight…but since when did Talia play by the rules of the Game?
'It's my fight to begin with. Well, technically anyway,' he thought, sitting on the bed. As he lifted the sword and looked at the blade, he remembered another sword flat...sliding over Nadya's throat. Heat stirred somewhere deep inside him. Was it anger? Or hatred maybe? Yes-and. He'd given his life to protect this child, but now he realized sharply that a 'normal' life was never possible for her. Not while her life was spent with them.
Yet she chose to stay, even though she knew what their lives entailed. She had chosen.
The scary thing was: this boy had Kronos' cruelty but he had also developed Methos' former calculating coldness, the knowledge of how to hurt your enemy. He knew that, in his most successful dreams, Hayden would keep Nadya like Methos had kept Cassandra, except he would share her out among his comrades after killing her. And there would be no ending it for her; he would kill her spirit, leave her a shell for eternity.
Angered, Methos drove his sword into the floor! The marble tile chipped and cracked, splintered! The steel never gave way.
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Joe sighed as he thunked along beside Charles. "They are like children, aren't they?" he asked.
"Yes, rather. They have their phases and lessons to be learned. Even after thousands of years, it would seem."
Joe nodded. He liked Charles; he felt a sort of kindred affection for this man who also tried to protect and guide those he loved.
"The young ones are having trouble," Charles spoke after a moment. He could feel pain and confusion radiating.
"Piotr and Nadya?"
"Yes."
"I figured as much," Joe sighed, "That poor gal can't decide who her heart belongs to."
Charles gave him a questioning look.
"Oh, a part of her loves Methos, sure enough. But she'll never admit it to him; perhaps won't even admit it to herself." Joe leaned heavily on his cane.
"What about Methos?"
"That old man? Who knows? The last time he loved, it almost destroyed him. I don't know if he'd ever be willing to risk it to that extent again. The inside may be softer but his shell is hard."
Charles nodded, noting his own experience with such kinds of people.
"If Piotr really cares about her, right now he's going to have to hang on for dear life, 'cause it's going to be a bumpy ride for the time being." Joe shrugged his shoulders, and Charles nodded again.