Chapter 18
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Professor Xavier sat on the patio leading down to the garden. The others had long vacated the area, taking their auras with them, and so he could breathe again.
Yet, he found himself vastly confused and somewhat disturbed at the unpredictability of Immortals and the lengths to which they were willing to go. Even Duncan, who seemed the most pacifistic of them all, had plainly exuded hatred for the man who had attempted to kill Nadya. Even though Xavier knew why Duncan's emotions ran high when it came to the young woman, he still could not understand such violence and hatred. He was so far away from such feelings anymore; yes, he had dealt with them once and dealt with them still through people such as Logan and Eric Lencher, but it had been years, decades since he had come to terms with his situation in life, as a person and as a mutant. He did not hate those who attacked him, who attacked his children, and hurt all; he pitied them.
'Well, no one ever said the world was simple. "There is no black and white. We are but shadows and shades of grey," someone once said. But surely there is a line to be drawn?'
The air beginning to become cool, the Professor turned his chair around and headed indoors. He would look in on Ororo later; right now, he needed some coffee and some rest.
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The would-be assassin fell to the ground, unable to support himself from loss of blood--both from the wound that Nadya had given him and from Logan's claws.
Talia sat on a chair across from him, leaning on her sword. This room was located in what normally would have been a wine cellar, except Talia didn't care that much for wine and so had just left the room empty. Now it proved its usefulness, for no one could hear what was going on.
Methos stood behind her, Logan off to the side.
"Why kill her?" she asked. Short. Dead-panned.
The suspect did not answer, barely even raised his head.
Lifting her sword, before Methos could stop her, Talia flashed the tip over his cheek, slashing him!
"I'll ask again: why kill her?" Talia's voice remained as before; she hadn't even risen from her seat.
Methos felt something cold run through him, like steel.
Blood running down his face, he raised his head. "To hurt you." His eyes locked on Methos; he knew he was dead anyway. "To make you suffer. And when you're dead, he'll take her, play with her Immortality, and, oh, won't she scream? Only wish I could be there to hear it."
In a nanosecond, his jugular was sliced in two!
"Talia!"
But there was nothing to be done.
"Go take care of Nadya."
Methos didn't move.
"Go!"
Finally, he turned and obeyed. It was her house.
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Rogue laid a towel, folded slim, over Nadya's chest to cover her; Methos couldn't work with the sport tank on, as the slash went up pretty high on her ribs, but Nadya declared that she wasn't going let some two-bit hit man take her dignity. And so she smiled at the young woman who helped her. "Thank you."
Rogue sort of shrugged and nodded; she didn't really know what to say, though she knew what it was like to almost be killed, on several occasions.
Methos then entered the room, his sleeves rolled up and his hands washed. He examined the wound, sitting next to the couch. Then he picked up a needle, which had been sitting in a candle flame. Threading it, he held it near the wound with pliers.
Uncharacteristically, his hand rested gently on Nadya's head for a moment. "This is going to hurt," he told her. No reason to lie to the girl.
Tears leapt into her eyes and streamed down her cheeks as he began to sew the wound closed. Nadya tried her best to not cry out, gripping the couch cushion with her other hand. Silence reigned in the room for a while and then, haltingly, she spoke when he paused.
"Whe--when did you first…become a...a doctor?"
Methos concentrated on what he was doing but answered after a while. "I don't remember. It's been so long."
Silence again.
Normally, Methos tried to not talk about the past to her; she usually got her stories from Joe. But she needed something to distract her.
"You know…I knew a girl like you...long ago."
Stitch number 12.
"Her name was Christine, she was about your age. Very fiery, took care of others… She was a slave. I used to care for slaves, was the only doctor who would."
Stitch number 22.
"What happened to her?" Nadya's voice was weak, far away. Methos set another towel down by her side to catch the blood.
He hesitated at her question, but then...
"She died. She died because of me."
Methos tied off the last stitch and cut the thread before placing a gauze bandage over the wound and taping it in place.
"I promise you, Nadya. It won't happen again. I won't let you die…at least not by someone else's hand." Nadya remained silent. But he wondered: was he promising her or himself?
Cleaning off her side and throwing the now red towels on the floor, Methos lifted her himself this time, wrapped in a blanket, and carried her to her bed. Piotr watched as they disappeared down the hall.
Rogue rose from her place near Ororo and moved to join Bobby in the kitchen. Ororo, meanwhile, gestured for Piotr to come to her. "Are you okay, Peter?" she asked quietly. She didn't need to ask what was going on between him and Nadya; anyone could see.
He shook his head. "She pushed me away…"
Ororo pulled him down to sit next to her. "I'm sure she was just scared."
"She said that she couldn't let me be hurt, that I could die because of her." Piotr shook his head again. "She doesn't understand that I don't care about that."
"Peter, she's scared. We all are. Just give her some time." Ororo's hand rested on his shoulder. She loved him like an eldest son and wanted him to be happy. But such things were never easy.
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'Who is she?' Hayden wondered as he listened to the interrogation going on between his minion and some woman. A woman with a growl lacing her voice. She was obviously incensed.
But it wasn't Methos.
Hayden was about five miles away from the villa, spread across the backseat of his car, waiting for night to fall. He was in no rush; allowing your anger to control you is your downfall, Kronos had taught him.
So he would wait and bide his time.
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Logan stood there where he had been at the beginning of the interrogation. He watched as the Immortals interrogated the guy, heard every word that the slime had said. Then he had watched Methos leave and Talia stand there for a good ten minutes, watching the blood pool at her feet.
'And, oh yeah, watched her off the guy. Can't forget that.' Part of him told himself that he shouldn't be so surprised, but he hadn't seen it coming. He also hadn't seen the bomb that the creep had dropped coming either.
"You can quit watching him...I don't think he'll be gettin' up anytime soon," he said in half jest.
"Some kill for pleasure and make it an art; some to further their own means and make it about tactics; others because they have to and it makes their nightmares," she said before dragging her gaze from the body.
"Hey, he deserved it; no one will argue that one with you...." But his attempt to comfort her was shrugged off with a shake of the head, gesture of the hand.
"It was an observation, not a declaration."
"So which are you then?"
"All of the above. Though this ....this I enjoyed....after the fact, for whatever that is worth." She chuckled, and then looked back up to him from across the body, daring him, willing him to ask.
"He said that...is it true?"
"Yes."
"She is one of you?"
"Nadya, should she die a violent death, would become an Immortal."
Logan nodded. "Why not tell her? It would make things simpler."
"Nadya...Nadya is alive and vibrant. I see the joy of life when I look at her. Hope, promise, all that she should be with endless possibility. That I would have to see, " Talia glanced back down at the pool of blood, "…a reflection of myself there...a reflection of this there..." She shook her head as if to clear it from her mind.
"Who says she has to end up like you?" Logan asked. "Not that I don't like who you are but..."
"You don't know me..." She looked at him and then approached, pausing once the gap was closed. "You're attracted to me. It's mutual, but you don't know me.....that would take more time than you have....and, in the end, you probably wouldn't..."
"Hey...no." He cut her off. "I'm no saint myself, Talia. I've killed; I've done a lot of stuff that would drive some folks mad...it almost does me."
"You may live to eat that statement. Logan, you cannot tell anyone about Nadya," she commanded. Or was there a note of pleading in her voice?
"OK."
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Methos met Xavier on his way back from putting Nadya down to rest. "You should all pack up and clear out....and…"
"We'll take her with us. You don't even have to ask."
Methos nodded. "Thank you."
Xavier asked; it had been on his mind. "He is dead, isn't he?"
"Yes. Before this night is over, I hope the other one to be rotting with him."
"Why don't you let us help you? "
"Don't tempt me...besides MacLeod is not about to attempt breaking the rules."
"But you would. And I think Talia would."
"Talia is an entirely different subject. And I...well, I want to live."
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Talia and Logan had walked through the door. Rogue watched the older woman. Talia met her eyes a moment. Rogue could see she was beautiful.
'Can't fault him there,' she thought.
Duncan got shot her a worried glance. Then his face distorted, angered. Rogue wondered why. Talia was not holding the sword she had before, and Rogue thought for a moment that it was probably with the other guy. She swallowed, when Talia's next statement confirmed as much.
"You don't want to know."
Duncan began to yell at her; Rogue caught the Scottish lilt to his voice. Then the woman stilled, like she had seen Logan do when he smelled something off. She caught the rapid eye movement.
"They need to get out of here now."
Duncan asked why.
"Because he is coming."
Then she took off, back out the door and down the hallway. Duncan froze a moment, muttered a curse in Gaelic, and then moved to scoop up Ororo.
"Don't bother with the stuff you don't need!" he said to the others as he stood. He held Ororo, mindful of her shoulder. "Go let the others know that Hayden is almost here! Tell Methos to get Nadya!" He rushed to the side entrance to the villa, carrying Ororo.
Bobby ran down the hallway, catching sight of the Professor and Methos at the end of it. He opened his mouth to yell to them the news but Methos caught the presence just as he opened his mouth.
"He's here."
"You're certain?"
"I can feel him.....that means he is close."
"Talia says that...." Bobby called out.
"I know...Nadya!" Methos started to rush to her room.
"No! Piotr is going to get her! Duncan has Ororo. He says to leave everything."
Just then, an explosion rocked the side of the villa, knocking the men down!!
Piotr had almost reached the top stair when the villa shook. He stumbled but grasped the rail and continued. He could see her room at the end of the hall.
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"He took out the cars!" Duncan said as he looked out the windshield of the jet. The fireball rose up into the darkening night sky. Ororo had strapped herself into the seat.
"You shut the door behind me!" he called back to her and then rushed back to the villa.
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Talia slammed the door to the refrigerator and then tore off a bit of her shirt. She pulled out the lighter she had lifted from Logan before she took off. "Thought I would need you."
Then she heard the clank of metal on metal....and heard Nadya scream!
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Professor Xavier sat on the patio leading down to the garden. The others had long vacated the area, taking their auras with them, and so he could breathe again.
Yet, he found himself vastly confused and somewhat disturbed at the unpredictability of Immortals and the lengths to which they were willing to go. Even Duncan, who seemed the most pacifistic of them all, had plainly exuded hatred for the man who had attempted to kill Nadya. Even though Xavier knew why Duncan's emotions ran high when it came to the young woman, he still could not understand such violence and hatred. He was so far away from such feelings anymore; yes, he had dealt with them once and dealt with them still through people such as Logan and Eric Lencher, but it had been years, decades since he had come to terms with his situation in life, as a person and as a mutant. He did not hate those who attacked him, who attacked his children, and hurt all; he pitied them.
'Well, no one ever said the world was simple. "There is no black and white. We are but shadows and shades of grey," someone once said. But surely there is a line to be drawn?'
The air beginning to become cool, the Professor turned his chair around and headed indoors. He would look in on Ororo later; right now, he needed some coffee and some rest.
...............................................................................................................................................................................................................
The would-be assassin fell to the ground, unable to support himself from loss of blood--both from the wound that Nadya had given him and from Logan's claws.
Talia sat on a chair across from him, leaning on her sword. This room was located in what normally would have been a wine cellar, except Talia didn't care that much for wine and so had just left the room empty. Now it proved its usefulness, for no one could hear what was going on.
Methos stood behind her, Logan off to the side.
"Why kill her?" she asked. Short. Dead-panned.
The suspect did not answer, barely even raised his head.
Lifting her sword, before Methos could stop her, Talia flashed the tip over his cheek, slashing him!
"I'll ask again: why kill her?" Talia's voice remained as before; she hadn't even risen from her seat.
Methos felt something cold run through him, like steel.
Blood running down his face, he raised his head. "To hurt you." His eyes locked on Methos; he knew he was dead anyway. "To make you suffer. And when you're dead, he'll take her, play with her Immortality, and, oh, won't she scream? Only wish I could be there to hear it."
In a nanosecond, his jugular was sliced in two!
"Talia!"
But there was nothing to be done.
"Go take care of Nadya."
Methos didn't move.
"Go!"
Finally, he turned and obeyed. It was her house.
.........................................................................................................................................................................................................
Rogue laid a towel, folded slim, over Nadya's chest to cover her; Methos couldn't work with the sport tank on, as the slash went up pretty high on her ribs, but Nadya declared that she wasn't going let some two-bit hit man take her dignity. And so she smiled at the young woman who helped her. "Thank you."
Rogue sort of shrugged and nodded; she didn't really know what to say, though she knew what it was like to almost be killed, on several occasions.
Methos then entered the room, his sleeves rolled up and his hands washed. He examined the wound, sitting next to the couch. Then he picked up a needle, which had been sitting in a candle flame. Threading it, he held it near the wound with pliers.
Uncharacteristically, his hand rested gently on Nadya's head for a moment. "This is going to hurt," he told her. No reason to lie to the girl.
Tears leapt into her eyes and streamed down her cheeks as he began to sew the wound closed. Nadya tried her best to not cry out, gripping the couch cushion with her other hand. Silence reigned in the room for a while and then, haltingly, she spoke when he paused.
"Whe--when did you first…become a...a doctor?"
Methos concentrated on what he was doing but answered after a while. "I don't remember. It's been so long."
Silence again.
Normally, Methos tried to not talk about the past to her; she usually got her stories from Joe. But she needed something to distract her.
"You know…I knew a girl like you...long ago."
Stitch number 12.
"Her name was Christine, she was about your age. Very fiery, took care of others… She was a slave. I used to care for slaves, was the only doctor who would."
Stitch number 22.
"What happened to her?" Nadya's voice was weak, far away. Methos set another towel down by her side to catch the blood.
He hesitated at her question, but then...
"She died. She died because of me."
Methos tied off the last stitch and cut the thread before placing a gauze bandage over the wound and taping it in place.
"I promise you, Nadya. It won't happen again. I won't let you die…at least not by someone else's hand." Nadya remained silent. But he wondered: was he promising her or himself?
Cleaning off her side and throwing the now red towels on the floor, Methos lifted her himself this time, wrapped in a blanket, and carried her to her bed. Piotr watched as they disappeared down the hall.
Rogue rose from her place near Ororo and moved to join Bobby in the kitchen. Ororo, meanwhile, gestured for Piotr to come to her. "Are you okay, Peter?" she asked quietly. She didn't need to ask what was going on between him and Nadya; anyone could see.
He shook his head. "She pushed me away…"
Ororo pulled him down to sit next to her. "I'm sure she was just scared."
"She said that she couldn't let me be hurt, that I could die because of her." Piotr shook his head again. "She doesn't understand that I don't care about that."
"Peter, she's scared. We all are. Just give her some time." Ororo's hand rested on his shoulder. She loved him like an eldest son and wanted him to be happy. But such things were never easy.
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'Who is she?' Hayden wondered as he listened to the interrogation going on between his minion and some woman. A woman with a growl lacing her voice. She was obviously incensed.
But it wasn't Methos.
Hayden was about five miles away from the villa, spread across the backseat of his car, waiting for night to fall. He was in no rush; allowing your anger to control you is your downfall, Kronos had taught him.
So he would wait and bide his time.
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Logan stood there where he had been at the beginning of the interrogation. He watched as the Immortals interrogated the guy, heard every word that the slime had said. Then he had watched Methos leave and Talia stand there for a good ten minutes, watching the blood pool at her feet.
'And, oh yeah, watched her off the guy. Can't forget that.' Part of him told himself that he shouldn't be so surprised, but he hadn't seen it coming. He also hadn't seen the bomb that the creep had dropped coming either.
"You can quit watching him...I don't think he'll be gettin' up anytime soon," he said in half jest.
"Some kill for pleasure and make it an art; some to further their own means and make it about tactics; others because they have to and it makes their nightmares," she said before dragging her gaze from the body.
"Hey, he deserved it; no one will argue that one with you...." But his attempt to comfort her was shrugged off with a shake of the head, gesture of the hand.
"It was an observation, not a declaration."
"So which are you then?"
"All of the above. Though this ....this I enjoyed....after the fact, for whatever that is worth." She chuckled, and then looked back up to him from across the body, daring him, willing him to ask.
"He said that...is it true?"
"Yes."
"She is one of you?"
"Nadya, should she die a violent death, would become an Immortal."
Logan nodded. "Why not tell her? It would make things simpler."
"Nadya...Nadya is alive and vibrant. I see the joy of life when I look at her. Hope, promise, all that she should be with endless possibility. That I would have to see, " Talia glanced back down at the pool of blood, "…a reflection of myself there...a reflection of this there..." She shook her head as if to clear it from her mind.
"Who says she has to end up like you?" Logan asked. "Not that I don't like who you are but..."
"You don't know me..." She looked at him and then approached, pausing once the gap was closed. "You're attracted to me. It's mutual, but you don't know me.....that would take more time than you have....and, in the end, you probably wouldn't..."
"Hey...no." He cut her off. "I'm no saint myself, Talia. I've killed; I've done a lot of stuff that would drive some folks mad...it almost does me."
"You may live to eat that statement. Logan, you cannot tell anyone about Nadya," she commanded. Or was there a note of pleading in her voice?
"OK."
........................................................................................................................................................................................................
Methos met Xavier on his way back from putting Nadya down to rest. "You should all pack up and clear out....and…"
"We'll take her with us. You don't even have to ask."
Methos nodded. "Thank you."
Xavier asked; it had been on his mind. "He is dead, isn't he?"
"Yes. Before this night is over, I hope the other one to be rotting with him."
"Why don't you let us help you? "
"Don't tempt me...besides MacLeod is not about to attempt breaking the rules."
"But you would. And I think Talia would."
"Talia is an entirely different subject. And I...well, I want to live."
......................................................................................................................................................................................................
Talia and Logan had walked through the door. Rogue watched the older woman. Talia met her eyes a moment. Rogue could see she was beautiful.
'Can't fault him there,' she thought.
Duncan got shot her a worried glance. Then his face distorted, angered. Rogue wondered why. Talia was not holding the sword she had before, and Rogue thought for a moment that it was probably with the other guy. She swallowed, when Talia's next statement confirmed as much.
"You don't want to know."
Duncan began to yell at her; Rogue caught the Scottish lilt to his voice. Then the woman stilled, like she had seen Logan do when he smelled something off. She caught the rapid eye movement.
"They need to get out of here now."
Duncan asked why.
"Because he is coming."
Then she took off, back out the door and down the hallway. Duncan froze a moment, muttered a curse in Gaelic, and then moved to scoop up Ororo.
"Don't bother with the stuff you don't need!" he said to the others as he stood. He held Ororo, mindful of her shoulder. "Go let the others know that Hayden is almost here! Tell Methos to get Nadya!" He rushed to the side entrance to the villa, carrying Ororo.
Bobby ran down the hallway, catching sight of the Professor and Methos at the end of it. He opened his mouth to yell to them the news but Methos caught the presence just as he opened his mouth.
"He's here."
"You're certain?"
"I can feel him.....that means he is close."
"Talia says that...." Bobby called out.
"I know...Nadya!" Methos started to rush to her room.
"No! Piotr is going to get her! Duncan has Ororo. He says to leave everything."
Just then, an explosion rocked the side of the villa, knocking the men down!!
Piotr had almost reached the top stair when the villa shook. He stumbled but grasped the rail and continued. He could see her room at the end of the hall.
.....................................................................................................................................................................................
"He took out the cars!" Duncan said as he looked out the windshield of the jet. The fireball rose up into the darkening night sky. Ororo had strapped herself into the seat.
"You shut the door behind me!" he called back to her and then rushed back to the villa.
..............................................................................................................................................................................................
Talia slammed the door to the refrigerator and then tore off a bit of her shirt. She pulled out the lighter she had lifted from Logan before she took off. "Thought I would need you."
Then she heard the clank of metal on metal....and heard Nadya scream!