Chapter 17
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Nadya leaned her cheek against cool, smooth alabaster stone, her arm around Pallas Athena's shoulders.
'If there was a goddess of wisdom, I would be her most devoted adherent,' she thought. She had a good view of the entrance hall from atop the statue; she saw her long before she spoke.
"You always hide in the same place," Talia paused at the bottom of the staircase.
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Time passed. His spine had fused together again, but a broken neck was no fun to come back from. Hayden ran his hand over the back of his neck, down to his shoulder blades.
"So I suppose this takes a more direct approach," he murmured.
A man near him-the only one to survive Piotr's attack-handed him a dry shirt, which the blonde threw on, buttoning it up quickly. "Go to the villa, find the girl," he said. "And kill her."
The man looked confused; the previous orders had been strictly against killing Nadya. "Hayden…"
"Kid gloves are off!" Hayden snarled, whirling around on the man. "Normally, I would do this myself, but they would be too wise to my coming. If Methos wants to play like a Horseman, so be it. Makes it more fun anyway. Just make sure she's dead when you leave, and leave her body somewhere for them to find her."
He moved to climb the stairs of the substation, but then stopped, smiling with his head raised. "Just don't make it too painful, Ger; it's only her first time. I want to do that after Methos is dead."
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"Your shoulder doesn't seem to be infected at all. The antibiotics are doing their job." Bobby said as he placed a clean gauze patch over the stitched wound.
Ororo smiled weakly. Rogue sat with her arms around her knees watching as Bobby played medic. They had all had the basic first aid training and Ororo would go to a doctor once they got back. But she was doing fine at the moment; that was what mattered.
"A most wonderful invention indeed," came a deeper voice from the doorway. Ororo smiled at Duncan as he entered the room.
"Not that you would need them," she said. The younger mutants watched the interchange, still getting a handle on the immortals. Though MacLeod seemed less of a threat than any of the others. They both were still processing the conversation they had heard earlier-the casual discussion of the murder of another person. One of their own kind. For the purpose of a game?
"I've had many friends that died far too young in life because they were born before such things as penicillin, or even the concept of 'sterile,'" he said softly. "Can I get you anything?" She shook her head slightly.
"I'm fine. Well, I will be. Unless you have new shoulder somewhere. Or want to share your gifts..." she teased.
This time, Duncan smiled but it was sad. "'No' on both counts. If I could, I would, that I promise you."
She could tell she struck a nerve and let the subject drop. But not everyone caught that it was a touchy subject.
"You can't share?" came Rogue's southern drawl.
Duncan looked at her, shaking his head. "No, it doesn't work that way."
"So you can't take anything either?"
Duncan looked puzzled, so Rogue elaborated.
"My...mutation...I draw the life-energy out of people. For mutants, that means their powers, too."
Duncan nodded, understanding the gloves more so now.
"We are born with our Immortality, and our first death activates it."
"And you can't die...unless someone cuts off your head." Bobby finished.
"That's the long and short of it, yes."
"Why? Why kill each other? Why did those people come here and shoot Ororo?" Rogue's voice was laced with the stress of the situation.
Duncan shook his head; the past few days were beginning to take its toll on him. As were all the questions about what the immortals were.
"Rogue, why did Magneto take you?" Ororo saved Duncan the trouble of explaining it to her, though even Ororo did not understand the full scope of what immortality entailed.
'None of them do. What is that going to do to this peace once they do understand? It is tenuous enough as is.' Duncan noted that Rogue's expression became colder in addition to the confused look she had before.
"Because he is a ....monster who did not care about who he hurt. So long as he got what he wanted." She clasped her hands in front of her legs.
"Exactly." Ororo stated, looking to Duncan for conformation.
The Scot nodded. It wasn't the best explanation for it but it was the truth in this case.
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"I like the view," came the reply from the top of the statue.
Talia set her sword down at the base of it and climbed up to be able to talk face to face. Not that her friend was making a great effort on the part.
"Do you want to talk or not?" she asked, brushing some of her black hair behind an ear with her free arm. The other tightly grasped the stone wing of the statue. When Nadya finally turned, Talia let out a low whistle.
"Nice bruise."
Nadya flinched at the memory that brought up. Talia patted her foot. "I'm...I don't know what to think or feel."
"Decisions are hard like that. I say go for it. He's tall, handsome, killer accent."
Nadya blushed but immediately shook her head. "He will get hurt...he isn't Immortal...and I...I can't."
"Oh, and, suddenly, Immortals are the only guys you look for?" Talia drawled almost sarcastically.
Nadya said nothing but only looked at her friend, tears shimmering. Something had struck a nerve; one Nadya would not admit to.
"No...you have cried enough. No more from you; that is an order," the other woman said softly but devoid of emotion. "Now, perhaps you should go back to your safe little bubble where no one is ever in danger of death by car, by plane, by madman, or by fate-to say nothing of mortality-and find the perfect guy there."
"How can you say that?!" Nadya yelled back, feeling the blow of the words.
"Because it is true. And, regardless of whether or not you stay with us, you'll die some day; so will he, but your chances are no better apart than together."
"It's just too much for me." Nadya shook her head, lowering it again.
"Listen. Do you want to exist or do you want to live?" Talia asked. "You can leave. I would not fault you for that in any way, though I would miss you, but the one has nothing to do with the other."
"People have gotten hurt because of me."
"Nadya, dear, don't flatter yourself. That jerk was after Methos; he would have used whoever was here, had it not been you, and you know that. It is just the stress of the situation."
Nadya tucked her knees up and placed her arm around them, leaning her chin on them. She had been up on this statue so many times that her balance had become nearly perfect. She still held onto Athena's spear, though.
Talia sighed. "No one is making you decide now, Nadya. You have your entire life for the important decisions, but you have to realize the facts. Make your own decisions, but be aware of the truth."
"What happens when he comes back?" Nadya's eyes stared straight ahead.
"Then he will die."
"Oh. But what if he...?"
"Trust me."
"OK. Will Methos...will he...?"
"You don't want to know what is going to happen to him." Talia shook her head.
Nadya nodded and leaned forward again, placing her head on her knees. Her tears still brimmed in her eyes but they didn't spill over.
Talia pulled out a tissue and handed it to her.
The comfortable silence lasted a while and, when it ended, it was Nadya who broke it.
"So...how are things between you and, uh....Logan?"
"Tasty." Talia said, licking her lips before dropping down and stalking off, smirking.
Nadya's laughter echoed off the ceiling and down the halls, a sound long missed.
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Methos entered the large room that had served as the conference room for the past few days.
Talia was examining the edge of her sword. Duncan was seated at the table with Joe and Professor Xavier. Ororo was lying on the couch with the younger mutants nearby. Logan was nowhere to be seen.
'Glad for that.'
Talia spotted him in the doorway, as did the others. She nodded before speaking,
"I think it best that you all try to conclude this before nightfall, and if you cannot, then perhaps you should continue it from a safer place. I would guess a few hours at best before a second wave hits."
"You are certain there is that much of a threat from this..."
"Hayden," Methos supplied.
Xavier took in the Ivanhoe broadsword resting on the man's shoulder. Like it had sprouted there. Like it belonged there, in his hand.
'Interesting'
"And, yes, he will be back; your lives are in danger here and you should get out as soon as possible," Methos said.
"And leave you here to face him alone?" Charles looked to Methos but Talia interrupted.
"No, he will be going with you. It's my house," she stated again, "My rules."
"Woman's lib and all." Methos quipped.
Talia cast him a puzzled look. "Woman's what?"
"Never mind...forgot you were out of the loop for a moment there."
"You are going to leave her here alone to deal with this other Immortal?" Ororo asked.
"Yeah, it's not exactly fair, is it? But I don't pity the fool a bit; he has it coming and a lot more besides." Methos smiled ruefully. "MacLeod, play the diplomat. Talia, are we practicing or what?" he questioned and then left the room, fleeing the volley of questions he knew were coming.
'MacLeod wanted to play liaison so he can bloody well do that. I am done with explaining myself for the next century.'
Talia looked at the people in the room; most of them seemed concerned, 'Probably for me. I always wondered what that would feel like. Now I do.' She turned and followed Methos down to the practice room.
Duncan, meanwhile, took up the task of explaining that...
Yes. Talia was more than able to handle the immortal.
Well, we fight one on one.
Yes, she is going to kill him.
Yes, that is murder, but it is part of the Game.
Duncan hated the fact that the concept of killing someone, beheading them, took forever to sink into a person's brain. That was what immortals did, what they had lived with for centuries, was brutal and violent. But, finally, they grasped the situation, and the need to leave as soon as possible. Or so he hoped.
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Nadya liked the gardens in the afternoon-time, even though the last time she had been there had not been pleasant. That didn't diminish her love for its beauty. As one who was neither Immortal, mutant, nor Watcher, she did not feel it was necessary for her to be at the conclusion of the summit, so she had taken to the gardens. The smaller one this time. The sun was running westward, the air warm.
She was sweaty, her muscles twitching, for she had been working out. A medium-heavy staff was held in her hands; Duncan had been teaching her swordplay and the quarterstaff over the past few months, as a good workout for her. And he had longed to teach a dying art. So she was now getting out her emotion and frustration by practicing the stances for those weapons.
The laughing earlier had done her good; her heart felt somewhat lighter. So, grabbing her staff and sword, she had headed for the garden. Running through stances again and again, she finally stopped, winded. Setting down the staff, she picked up the sword she had been practicing with, sitting on one of the benches.
She just sat there, staring into the blade of the sword, letting her eyes cross and un-focus. Suddenly, she felt strange--as though she was not alone. Her eyes snapped into focus just in time to see a reflection in her blade!
Leaping up, she moved just as a knife buried itself in the wood of the bench! Nadya whirled to find a stranger pulling the blade free! Nadya gripped the pommel of her sword, backing away but still standing her ground as she held the sword at point-in-line.
"Come now, chickie. It won't hurt," he snarled, "Much."
Nadya held fast. He rushed her, but she stood a credit to Duncan's teaching, moving with a side step and slashing the attacker's side with the tip of her blade.
He roared in pain, holding the gash against his ribs. His eyes flashed as he glared at her, turning the dagger in his hand. "I was told to make it painless for you, but now I'm going to have some fun gutting you, you little witch!"
The would-be assassin rushed her again, burying his shoulder in Nadya's stomach! She let out a cry, dropping her sword as the air was knocked from her lungs! He loomed over her, the knife poised to strike; her fingers crawled, clawed for her staff, which lay nearby.
He smiled, the point of the knife aimed for her stomach. "This…is a wound."
The knife came down!
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Ororo looked up from where she was now able to sit up on the couch. "Where is Nadya? She wasn't here for the conversation."
Xavier raised his head, his brows knit together in great concern. Pain, fear, anger. "Something is wrong...in the garden. Duncan, it's Nadya!"
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Methos continuously found himself impressed and outmatched by Talia, in sheer mechanics and technique. Granted, she had more experience, but he had the height and body strength to wield a heavier blade.
He had shed his sweater on the bench, as the room was somewhat warm this afternoon, despite the marble.
Talia watched the muscles in Methos' arms, shoulders, and back work as she challenged the old man. He had told the truth: just because he didn't like to fight, that didn't mean he couldn't. In some ways, he was much, much better than Duncan, in his knowledge and pure habit of the skill of swordplay.
She saw him start towards her again, his weight began to shift to the left...'uppercut...duck...deflect.'
Clank! The blades locked as she rose again, moving her weight back on her right leg about to strike out. The blades separated.
Just then, footsteps came hurrying down the hall towards the room.
"Hold," Talia said and Methos stayed his blade. He heard the feet then, running....and without immortal presence to boot.
"Something is wrong," he said. Talia nodded.
"Come on." She made it to the door when an out-of-breath Rogue got there.
"In the garden!" The young mutant gasped for breath. "Hurry!"
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"Get off me!" Nadya gasped as his hand wrapped around her throat, holding her in place against the garden wall, in a secluded corner. The blood from his earlier wound stained her shirt and the top of her pants, running down her side.
"No, you get ripped like a stuck pig. Hayden will never know the difference of how you died," her assassin growled, turning the knife to slash at her stomach again. She had cried out last time, not as loud as he wanted, but it had been a start. He wanted to hear her beg.
Out of nowhere, there came a primal roar and, suddenly, Nadya's view of him was blocked by a huge form and there was a strained gurgling sound-the sound of pain.
Logan!
He had one set of claws buried in the man's right shoulder, their bloody tips sticking out of his back. But he had been careful not to kill him.
"You picked the wrong day for this, bub," Logan growled, his other hand poised beneath the man's chin. The knife now lay in the grass.
He glared at the mutant, fear glassing over his eyes. "Go ahead and kill me, it's no worse than what Hayden could do to me."
"Oh, no. You're going to wish I killed you," Logan replied. He half-turned his head towards Nadya. "You OK, kid?" He could smell her blood. He'd been able to smell it and the scent of an intruder from the other side of the house where he had been searching for Piotr.
Nadya sank down to her knees, still breathing heavily. "I'm...I'll be fine..." she murmured. "It's just a scratch." She leaned against the wall, feeling very Shakespearean, and began to tear her own shirt to press the graze, thankful that she was wearing a sports tank beneath.
"Nadya!" Duncan hurried out into the gardens. "Where are you?"
"Here!" Logan bellowed. He had the guy turned and anchored against the wall, holding him there until the others arrived. "I think you're gonna want to talk to this creep."
"Talk...? Who said anything about talking?" Talia caught the Wolverine's words. Her eyes had found Nadya as soon as she rounded the corner. As had Methos, who rushed to her, the doctor in him rising to the surface twice in as many days.
"She'll be ok...it's not fatal," he called out, knowing the others were worried. Methos placed a hand to her face, and she nodded. However, she was beginning to sweat and her eyes glaze over. He let out a held breath. He stood just in time to watch Talia punch the guy in the stomach and then hear Duncan complain about it.
"Talia!"
The ancient whirled around, casting her weapon down and to the side, and began to yell incoherent words at MacLeod and the others on the steps.
Duncan looked to Methos, perhaps for a translation, but Methos just stared at her, dumbfounded.
A moment later, she just stopped, blinked, and then ran a shaky hand through her hair before continuing...this time in English.
"Twice. They have come into my home. Twice they have attacked my friends. Twice they have attacked those under my protection. Twice. " She held up as many fingers. "There will not be a third. There will not."
"Yes, but we have to find out what he knows. Talia, you can't just kill someone in cold blood." Duncan entreated.
"You would prefer I should torture him then? I could enjoy that."
Logan saw a very familiar look cross her face as it looked back to the man he held in place with his claws and arms. Familiar in that he had seen it in the mirror, more than once. Then, to his surprise, he saw it again, only this time in Methos' face.
"Where is he?" Methos voice was devoid of emotion or warmth.
The man would have backed away but the pain in his shoulder prevented it; he was no doubt wondering if they could do no worse than Hayden would have.
"That arrogant child who sent you here to kill my friend. Where...is...he?" Methos asked again, not getting an answer.
"I'm dead either way!" the lackey said, staring defiantly.
"He'll come to us, won't he?" Talia said. The wounded man looked at her. Hayden hadn't mentioned her. And when he did not answer, she smiled. She had her answer.
"Yes....he will. He is bent on his goal."
Charles watched the two immortals, having to shield himself from the hate coming from them. He also felt it radiate from MacLeod, who he stood near him. He had known they were violent, but he had never sensed the ruthlessness before. It left him feeling cold.
"That is why he sent you." Methos finished her statement. His blood was racing at how close this Hayden had come--at how much he wanted to make this pitiful excuse for a human scream for almost hurting Nadya. He knew Talia wanted the same. But still...like MacLeod said: '…cold blood.'
"Talia....he's right." Methos said softly, swallowing a few times.
Logan started at that; he thought that he was going to have the guy ripped to shreds in another minute or so.
"We can't just kill him like this."
"Can't....won't....I could.....I'd enjoy it.....making you scream..." Talia reached out and wiped a droplet of sweat form the guy's forehead, flicking it from her finger disdainfully. "That's what you were going to do to her.....but you know what stops me.....? The fact that I would not be able to live with the look she would give me if I did. The look she would give me for killing her killer. How twisted is that?" She smiled. "Your master will be coming, and the first thing he finds will be you...." With that, she turned and walked away, catching Methos' eye as she did so.
He nodded. "Will you bring him with you, and follow me?" he asked Logan, though Logan knew it was not so much a request. He had thrown himself into this so he might as well tolerate it and see it through. Besides, it was fun to hear the guy whimper when he walked.
Talia walked over to Nadya, knelt down, and looked at the blood. "You made him work for it, didn't you?" She smiled at the younger woman who was working very hard to keep back the tears. Nadya tried to muster a smile but the stinging wound and shock setting in wouldn't let her just now.
"Piotr, please take Nadya to Ororo. And if Bobby would be so kind as to get this cleaned up so Methos can stitch it up when he gets back, I am sure he would appreciate it."
Piotr quickly complied.
Talia gave her hand a squeeze then walked over to where Duncan was glaring at her. She merely looked at him and the Professor. "We are worse than beasts...when it suits us. I hope you never have to understand that," she told him quietly. "I believe you should pack up shop as soon as possible. Hayden will be coming, and I don't want anyone else getting hurt."
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The car door slammed and the engine revved before the screech of tires sounded off the walls of the submarine base. Hayden tossed the plastic earpiece onto the passenger seat. The wire he had built into the lackey's wristwatch had been insurance because you could never trust the hired help. It had paid off in so many more ways: he had heard Ger get captured, and knew his plan had failed; it was time for a hands-on approach.
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Ororo sat up, her arm in a sling, as Piotr rushed into the room, carrying Nadya. "What happened?!"
The Russian muttered something in his native tongue and then quickly switched. "The man who took them before sent someone to kill her, but Logan stopped him."
Nadya winced as he set her down on the opposite couch. Piotr immediately felt himself close to being sick; as he pulled his hands away from her, they were covered in her blood. Bobby soon arrived with the first aid kit and, removing the bandage that Nadya had made with her shirt, he began to clean the wound, pouring peroxide onto it. Nadya grasped Piotr's arm as her body arched, a pained hiss drawn between her teeth. Methos had been right; it hadn't gone fatally deep but deep enough to need stitches.
Rogue sat with Ororo while the young men worked.
Finally, Bobby stood up and glanced at the new bruise on Nadya's right cheek, running up along her temple; he'd struck her with the back of his hand. "Here," Bobby said quietly and cupped his hands together. In a moment, he had a small compress made purely of ice. "That should help the swelling," he commented quietly, helping her hold the ice in her other hand.
Nadya smiled vaguely at him and at Piotr. "Thank you," was all she said.
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Nadya leaned her cheek against cool, smooth alabaster stone, her arm around Pallas Athena's shoulders.
'If there was a goddess of wisdom, I would be her most devoted adherent,' she thought. She had a good view of the entrance hall from atop the statue; she saw her long before she spoke.
"You always hide in the same place," Talia paused at the bottom of the staircase.
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Time passed. His spine had fused together again, but a broken neck was no fun to come back from. Hayden ran his hand over the back of his neck, down to his shoulder blades.
"So I suppose this takes a more direct approach," he murmured.
A man near him-the only one to survive Piotr's attack-handed him a dry shirt, which the blonde threw on, buttoning it up quickly. "Go to the villa, find the girl," he said. "And kill her."
The man looked confused; the previous orders had been strictly against killing Nadya. "Hayden…"
"Kid gloves are off!" Hayden snarled, whirling around on the man. "Normally, I would do this myself, but they would be too wise to my coming. If Methos wants to play like a Horseman, so be it. Makes it more fun anyway. Just make sure she's dead when you leave, and leave her body somewhere for them to find her."
He moved to climb the stairs of the substation, but then stopped, smiling with his head raised. "Just don't make it too painful, Ger; it's only her first time. I want to do that after Methos is dead."
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"Your shoulder doesn't seem to be infected at all. The antibiotics are doing their job." Bobby said as he placed a clean gauze patch over the stitched wound.
Ororo smiled weakly. Rogue sat with her arms around her knees watching as Bobby played medic. They had all had the basic first aid training and Ororo would go to a doctor once they got back. But she was doing fine at the moment; that was what mattered.
"A most wonderful invention indeed," came a deeper voice from the doorway. Ororo smiled at Duncan as he entered the room.
"Not that you would need them," she said. The younger mutants watched the interchange, still getting a handle on the immortals. Though MacLeod seemed less of a threat than any of the others. They both were still processing the conversation they had heard earlier-the casual discussion of the murder of another person. One of their own kind. For the purpose of a game?
"I've had many friends that died far too young in life because they were born before such things as penicillin, or even the concept of 'sterile,'" he said softly. "Can I get you anything?" She shook her head slightly.
"I'm fine. Well, I will be. Unless you have new shoulder somewhere. Or want to share your gifts..." she teased.
This time, Duncan smiled but it was sad. "'No' on both counts. If I could, I would, that I promise you."
She could tell she struck a nerve and let the subject drop. But not everyone caught that it was a touchy subject.
"You can't share?" came Rogue's southern drawl.
Duncan looked at her, shaking his head. "No, it doesn't work that way."
"So you can't take anything either?"
Duncan looked puzzled, so Rogue elaborated.
"My...mutation...I draw the life-energy out of people. For mutants, that means their powers, too."
Duncan nodded, understanding the gloves more so now.
"We are born with our Immortality, and our first death activates it."
"And you can't die...unless someone cuts off your head." Bobby finished.
"That's the long and short of it, yes."
"Why? Why kill each other? Why did those people come here and shoot Ororo?" Rogue's voice was laced with the stress of the situation.
Duncan shook his head; the past few days were beginning to take its toll on him. As were all the questions about what the immortals were.
"Rogue, why did Magneto take you?" Ororo saved Duncan the trouble of explaining it to her, though even Ororo did not understand the full scope of what immortality entailed.
'None of them do. What is that going to do to this peace once they do understand? It is tenuous enough as is.' Duncan noted that Rogue's expression became colder in addition to the confused look she had before.
"Because he is a ....monster who did not care about who he hurt. So long as he got what he wanted." She clasped her hands in front of her legs.
"Exactly." Ororo stated, looking to Duncan for conformation.
The Scot nodded. It wasn't the best explanation for it but it was the truth in this case.
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"I like the view," came the reply from the top of the statue.
Talia set her sword down at the base of it and climbed up to be able to talk face to face. Not that her friend was making a great effort on the part.
"Do you want to talk or not?" she asked, brushing some of her black hair behind an ear with her free arm. The other tightly grasped the stone wing of the statue. When Nadya finally turned, Talia let out a low whistle.
"Nice bruise."
Nadya flinched at the memory that brought up. Talia patted her foot. "I'm...I don't know what to think or feel."
"Decisions are hard like that. I say go for it. He's tall, handsome, killer accent."
Nadya blushed but immediately shook her head. "He will get hurt...he isn't Immortal...and I...I can't."
"Oh, and, suddenly, Immortals are the only guys you look for?" Talia drawled almost sarcastically.
Nadya said nothing but only looked at her friend, tears shimmering. Something had struck a nerve; one Nadya would not admit to.
"No...you have cried enough. No more from you; that is an order," the other woman said softly but devoid of emotion. "Now, perhaps you should go back to your safe little bubble where no one is ever in danger of death by car, by plane, by madman, or by fate-to say nothing of mortality-and find the perfect guy there."
"How can you say that?!" Nadya yelled back, feeling the blow of the words.
"Because it is true. And, regardless of whether or not you stay with us, you'll die some day; so will he, but your chances are no better apart than together."
"It's just too much for me." Nadya shook her head, lowering it again.
"Listen. Do you want to exist or do you want to live?" Talia asked. "You can leave. I would not fault you for that in any way, though I would miss you, but the one has nothing to do with the other."
"People have gotten hurt because of me."
"Nadya, dear, don't flatter yourself. That jerk was after Methos; he would have used whoever was here, had it not been you, and you know that. It is just the stress of the situation."
Nadya tucked her knees up and placed her arm around them, leaning her chin on them. She had been up on this statue so many times that her balance had become nearly perfect. She still held onto Athena's spear, though.
Talia sighed. "No one is making you decide now, Nadya. You have your entire life for the important decisions, but you have to realize the facts. Make your own decisions, but be aware of the truth."
"What happens when he comes back?" Nadya's eyes stared straight ahead.
"Then he will die."
"Oh. But what if he...?"
"Trust me."
"OK. Will Methos...will he...?"
"You don't want to know what is going to happen to him." Talia shook her head.
Nadya nodded and leaned forward again, placing her head on her knees. Her tears still brimmed in her eyes but they didn't spill over.
Talia pulled out a tissue and handed it to her.
The comfortable silence lasted a while and, when it ended, it was Nadya who broke it.
"So...how are things between you and, uh....Logan?"
"Tasty." Talia said, licking her lips before dropping down and stalking off, smirking.
Nadya's laughter echoed off the ceiling and down the halls, a sound long missed.
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Methos entered the large room that had served as the conference room for the past few days.
Talia was examining the edge of her sword. Duncan was seated at the table with Joe and Professor Xavier. Ororo was lying on the couch with the younger mutants nearby. Logan was nowhere to be seen.
'Glad for that.'
Talia spotted him in the doorway, as did the others. She nodded before speaking,
"I think it best that you all try to conclude this before nightfall, and if you cannot, then perhaps you should continue it from a safer place. I would guess a few hours at best before a second wave hits."
"You are certain there is that much of a threat from this..."
"Hayden," Methos supplied.
Xavier took in the Ivanhoe broadsword resting on the man's shoulder. Like it had sprouted there. Like it belonged there, in his hand.
'Interesting'
"And, yes, he will be back; your lives are in danger here and you should get out as soon as possible," Methos said.
"And leave you here to face him alone?" Charles looked to Methos but Talia interrupted.
"No, he will be going with you. It's my house," she stated again, "My rules."
"Woman's lib and all." Methos quipped.
Talia cast him a puzzled look. "Woman's what?"
"Never mind...forgot you were out of the loop for a moment there."
"You are going to leave her here alone to deal with this other Immortal?" Ororo asked.
"Yeah, it's not exactly fair, is it? But I don't pity the fool a bit; he has it coming and a lot more besides." Methos smiled ruefully. "MacLeod, play the diplomat. Talia, are we practicing or what?" he questioned and then left the room, fleeing the volley of questions he knew were coming.
'MacLeod wanted to play liaison so he can bloody well do that. I am done with explaining myself for the next century.'
Talia looked at the people in the room; most of them seemed concerned, 'Probably for me. I always wondered what that would feel like. Now I do.' She turned and followed Methos down to the practice room.
Duncan, meanwhile, took up the task of explaining that...
Yes. Talia was more than able to handle the immortal.
Well, we fight one on one.
Yes, she is going to kill him.
Yes, that is murder, but it is part of the Game.
Duncan hated the fact that the concept of killing someone, beheading them, took forever to sink into a person's brain. That was what immortals did, what they had lived with for centuries, was brutal and violent. But, finally, they grasped the situation, and the need to leave as soon as possible. Or so he hoped.
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Nadya liked the gardens in the afternoon-time, even though the last time she had been there had not been pleasant. That didn't diminish her love for its beauty. As one who was neither Immortal, mutant, nor Watcher, she did not feel it was necessary for her to be at the conclusion of the summit, so she had taken to the gardens. The smaller one this time. The sun was running westward, the air warm.
She was sweaty, her muscles twitching, for she had been working out. A medium-heavy staff was held in her hands; Duncan had been teaching her swordplay and the quarterstaff over the past few months, as a good workout for her. And he had longed to teach a dying art. So she was now getting out her emotion and frustration by practicing the stances for those weapons.
The laughing earlier had done her good; her heart felt somewhat lighter. So, grabbing her staff and sword, she had headed for the garden. Running through stances again and again, she finally stopped, winded. Setting down the staff, she picked up the sword she had been practicing with, sitting on one of the benches.
She just sat there, staring into the blade of the sword, letting her eyes cross and un-focus. Suddenly, she felt strange--as though she was not alone. Her eyes snapped into focus just in time to see a reflection in her blade!
Leaping up, she moved just as a knife buried itself in the wood of the bench! Nadya whirled to find a stranger pulling the blade free! Nadya gripped the pommel of her sword, backing away but still standing her ground as she held the sword at point-in-line.
"Come now, chickie. It won't hurt," he snarled, "Much."
Nadya held fast. He rushed her, but she stood a credit to Duncan's teaching, moving with a side step and slashing the attacker's side with the tip of her blade.
He roared in pain, holding the gash against his ribs. His eyes flashed as he glared at her, turning the dagger in his hand. "I was told to make it painless for you, but now I'm going to have some fun gutting you, you little witch!"
The would-be assassin rushed her again, burying his shoulder in Nadya's stomach! She let out a cry, dropping her sword as the air was knocked from her lungs! He loomed over her, the knife poised to strike; her fingers crawled, clawed for her staff, which lay nearby.
He smiled, the point of the knife aimed for her stomach. "This…is a wound."
The knife came down!
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Ororo looked up from where she was now able to sit up on the couch. "Where is Nadya? She wasn't here for the conversation."
Xavier raised his head, his brows knit together in great concern. Pain, fear, anger. "Something is wrong...in the garden. Duncan, it's Nadya!"
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Methos continuously found himself impressed and outmatched by Talia, in sheer mechanics and technique. Granted, she had more experience, but he had the height and body strength to wield a heavier blade.
He had shed his sweater on the bench, as the room was somewhat warm this afternoon, despite the marble.
Talia watched the muscles in Methos' arms, shoulders, and back work as she challenged the old man. He had told the truth: just because he didn't like to fight, that didn't mean he couldn't. In some ways, he was much, much better than Duncan, in his knowledge and pure habit of the skill of swordplay.
She saw him start towards her again, his weight began to shift to the left...'uppercut...duck...deflect.'
Clank! The blades locked as she rose again, moving her weight back on her right leg about to strike out. The blades separated.
Just then, footsteps came hurrying down the hall towards the room.
"Hold," Talia said and Methos stayed his blade. He heard the feet then, running....and without immortal presence to boot.
"Something is wrong," he said. Talia nodded.
"Come on." She made it to the door when an out-of-breath Rogue got there.
"In the garden!" The young mutant gasped for breath. "Hurry!"
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"Get off me!" Nadya gasped as his hand wrapped around her throat, holding her in place against the garden wall, in a secluded corner. The blood from his earlier wound stained her shirt and the top of her pants, running down her side.
"No, you get ripped like a stuck pig. Hayden will never know the difference of how you died," her assassin growled, turning the knife to slash at her stomach again. She had cried out last time, not as loud as he wanted, but it had been a start. He wanted to hear her beg.
Out of nowhere, there came a primal roar and, suddenly, Nadya's view of him was blocked by a huge form and there was a strained gurgling sound-the sound of pain.
Logan!
He had one set of claws buried in the man's right shoulder, their bloody tips sticking out of his back. But he had been careful not to kill him.
"You picked the wrong day for this, bub," Logan growled, his other hand poised beneath the man's chin. The knife now lay in the grass.
He glared at the mutant, fear glassing over his eyes. "Go ahead and kill me, it's no worse than what Hayden could do to me."
"Oh, no. You're going to wish I killed you," Logan replied. He half-turned his head towards Nadya. "You OK, kid?" He could smell her blood. He'd been able to smell it and the scent of an intruder from the other side of the house where he had been searching for Piotr.
Nadya sank down to her knees, still breathing heavily. "I'm...I'll be fine..." she murmured. "It's just a scratch." She leaned against the wall, feeling very Shakespearean, and began to tear her own shirt to press the graze, thankful that she was wearing a sports tank beneath.
"Nadya!" Duncan hurried out into the gardens. "Where are you?"
"Here!" Logan bellowed. He had the guy turned and anchored against the wall, holding him there until the others arrived. "I think you're gonna want to talk to this creep."
"Talk...? Who said anything about talking?" Talia caught the Wolverine's words. Her eyes had found Nadya as soon as she rounded the corner. As had Methos, who rushed to her, the doctor in him rising to the surface twice in as many days.
"She'll be ok...it's not fatal," he called out, knowing the others were worried. Methos placed a hand to her face, and she nodded. However, she was beginning to sweat and her eyes glaze over. He let out a held breath. He stood just in time to watch Talia punch the guy in the stomach and then hear Duncan complain about it.
"Talia!"
The ancient whirled around, casting her weapon down and to the side, and began to yell incoherent words at MacLeod and the others on the steps.
Duncan looked to Methos, perhaps for a translation, but Methos just stared at her, dumbfounded.
A moment later, she just stopped, blinked, and then ran a shaky hand through her hair before continuing...this time in English.
"Twice. They have come into my home. Twice they have attacked my friends. Twice they have attacked those under my protection. Twice. " She held up as many fingers. "There will not be a third. There will not."
"Yes, but we have to find out what he knows. Talia, you can't just kill someone in cold blood." Duncan entreated.
"You would prefer I should torture him then? I could enjoy that."
Logan saw a very familiar look cross her face as it looked back to the man he held in place with his claws and arms. Familiar in that he had seen it in the mirror, more than once. Then, to his surprise, he saw it again, only this time in Methos' face.
"Where is he?" Methos voice was devoid of emotion or warmth.
The man would have backed away but the pain in his shoulder prevented it; he was no doubt wondering if they could do no worse than Hayden would have.
"That arrogant child who sent you here to kill my friend. Where...is...he?" Methos asked again, not getting an answer.
"I'm dead either way!" the lackey said, staring defiantly.
"He'll come to us, won't he?" Talia said. The wounded man looked at her. Hayden hadn't mentioned her. And when he did not answer, she smiled. She had her answer.
"Yes....he will. He is bent on his goal."
Charles watched the two immortals, having to shield himself from the hate coming from them. He also felt it radiate from MacLeod, who he stood near him. He had known they were violent, but he had never sensed the ruthlessness before. It left him feeling cold.
"That is why he sent you." Methos finished her statement. His blood was racing at how close this Hayden had come--at how much he wanted to make this pitiful excuse for a human scream for almost hurting Nadya. He knew Talia wanted the same. But still...like MacLeod said: '…cold blood.'
"Talia....he's right." Methos said softly, swallowing a few times.
Logan started at that; he thought that he was going to have the guy ripped to shreds in another minute or so.
"We can't just kill him like this."
"Can't....won't....I could.....I'd enjoy it.....making you scream..." Talia reached out and wiped a droplet of sweat form the guy's forehead, flicking it from her finger disdainfully. "That's what you were going to do to her.....but you know what stops me.....? The fact that I would not be able to live with the look she would give me if I did. The look she would give me for killing her killer. How twisted is that?" She smiled. "Your master will be coming, and the first thing he finds will be you...." With that, she turned and walked away, catching Methos' eye as she did so.
He nodded. "Will you bring him with you, and follow me?" he asked Logan, though Logan knew it was not so much a request. He had thrown himself into this so he might as well tolerate it and see it through. Besides, it was fun to hear the guy whimper when he walked.
Talia walked over to Nadya, knelt down, and looked at the blood. "You made him work for it, didn't you?" She smiled at the younger woman who was working very hard to keep back the tears. Nadya tried to muster a smile but the stinging wound and shock setting in wouldn't let her just now.
"Piotr, please take Nadya to Ororo. And if Bobby would be so kind as to get this cleaned up so Methos can stitch it up when he gets back, I am sure he would appreciate it."
Piotr quickly complied.
Talia gave her hand a squeeze then walked over to where Duncan was glaring at her. She merely looked at him and the Professor. "We are worse than beasts...when it suits us. I hope you never have to understand that," she told him quietly. "I believe you should pack up shop as soon as possible. Hayden will be coming, and I don't want anyone else getting hurt."
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The car door slammed and the engine revved before the screech of tires sounded off the walls of the submarine base. Hayden tossed the plastic earpiece onto the passenger seat. The wire he had built into the lackey's wristwatch had been insurance because you could never trust the hired help. It had paid off in so many more ways: he had heard Ger get captured, and knew his plan had failed; it was time for a hands-on approach.
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Ororo sat up, her arm in a sling, as Piotr rushed into the room, carrying Nadya. "What happened?!"
The Russian muttered something in his native tongue and then quickly switched. "The man who took them before sent someone to kill her, but Logan stopped him."
Nadya winced as he set her down on the opposite couch. Piotr immediately felt himself close to being sick; as he pulled his hands away from her, they were covered in her blood. Bobby soon arrived with the first aid kit and, removing the bandage that Nadya had made with her shirt, he began to clean the wound, pouring peroxide onto it. Nadya grasped Piotr's arm as her body arched, a pained hiss drawn between her teeth. Methos had been right; it hadn't gone fatally deep but deep enough to need stitches.
Rogue sat with Ororo while the young men worked.
Finally, Bobby stood up and glanced at the new bruise on Nadya's right cheek, running up along her temple; he'd struck her with the back of his hand. "Here," Bobby said quietly and cupped his hands together. In a moment, he had a small compress made purely of ice. "That should help the swelling," he commented quietly, helping her hold the ice in her other hand.
Nadya smiled vaguely at him and at Piotr. "Thank you," was all she said.