4. Flaming
"Seamus! Stop playing with that fire!"
"But it isn't gunna burn me, Mam!"
"What... What are you doing?"
"Isn't it pretty?"
"Get back, devil! Eliza, go get Father Derry! Now!"
Seamus O'Connor awoke with a start. It had been a long time since he had dreamed about his childhood. He rubbed a wrinkled hand to his face and sat up. The nursing home room was pleasant enough, but it wasn't home. He looked at the clock sitting on the bedside table. The hands pointed it to be two-oh-seven. Seamus cursed under his breath. How was he going to get any sleep if he kept waking up every few hours?
He threw the covers back and pushed the button next to his bed to call for a nurse. What an odd thing to do. Call for a nurse at the push of a button. Within seconds, a short blond man came in. He had to be no more than twenty five. Oh, what was his name? Pete. That's right. "Is there something wrong, Mr. O'Connor?" Pete asked in a shaky voice. Must be new, Seamus thought. Just like me.
Seamus waved his hand. "Eh, nothin' much. Just wanted to go for a walk. I figured you people would want to know."
Pete looked flabbergasted for a moment. "Y-Yes... Of course. Just a short one. You need your rest." He began to go get the wheelchair in the corner of the room.
"Nah, I don't need that damn nonsense," Seamus growled, shooing away the wheelchair. "I'm goin' for a real walk." He stood and stretched slightly before looking at Pete. The young nurse looked quite helpless and unsure. The Irishman sighed as he put on his light jacket and flat cap. "Listen here, Pete, you can walk with me or you can stay here and shuffle your feet like a scared little kid on his first day of primary school." The nurse was flabbergasted, but he followed Seamus out into the halls and then out into the garden.
The sound of cars was faint, but the night sky made one forget that. Stars illuminated the night sky with a waning crescent high in the sky. The mountains in the distance held a sort of lofty beauty under the lights of the faraway stars and the closer moon. Under his slippered feet, the remains of old snow crunched as Seamus walked. He stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at the mountains.
"It reminds me of home," the old man noted.
"What does?"
"The mountains. I'm Irish. We have more than a few mountains." Seamus continued to stare, reminded of his childhood spent cooped up in the house, away from the village life. Several times, his mother had tried to have the local priest, Father Derry, exorcise him. His strange powers of fire summoning weren't very welcome in the household. Needless to say, he was not very shocked when his niece showed the same power. Seamus never had children, and he figured that the talent would be picked up again somewhere in the family. "Norah hardly ever spoke to me again after that," He said aloud before he realized that he did.
"N-Norah?" Pete stammered, more from the cold than anything.
"Go put a coat on, ya silly boy," Seamus said gruffly. The young nurse scampered away. There is really no other word for it, Seamus thought. The lad scampered. When Pete returned, Seamus was once again staring at the mountains. The chilly night was peaceful. Crickets were composing their nightly melodies and the distant rumble of cars was just soft enough to compliment the chirping. Bats fluttered overhead, and Seamus could just hear them screeching to find food.
"Mr. O'Connor?" Pete asked quietly after a few minutes.
"Hmm?"
"You said something earlier about a woman named Norah."
"My younger sister."
Pete shuffled his feet when Seamus didn't elaborate further. "I think you said something about you and her not talking?"
Seamus sighed heavily. "My younger sister, Norah, had a daughter named Melanie that inherited a, ah… trait that only I had. As you can imagine, Norah was a bit angry with me for something that I had no control over. I don't know much of nothing about the whole genetics nonsense." He waved his hand. "Needless to say though, she up and didn't speak to me for seven years. Not until Mellie wanted to come visit her ol' uncle now and then."
"Maybe you should sit down with your sister and tell her how you feel." Pete suggested.
"She's not much the talkin' type no more."
"Why?"
"She's rotting in the fuckin' ground." Seamus spat on the ground. "And good riddance to her." The old man laughed at Pete's horrified expression. "Don't get your pants in a knot, Pete! When you get to be my age, you learn not to give a fuck about the people who gave you grief when you were young. You start thinking more 'bout who you'll miss and who you won't."
Pete was silent. Seamus hummed a tune to himself. Minutes passed before either said a word.
"Who will you miss?"
"Hmm?"
"Who will you miss when… Ahem… When—"
"—I die?" Seamus finished. Pete looked sheepish. "Relax, boy. It's not a topic I'm very concerned about." Seamus rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "Who I'll miss… Well I suppose you, Petey. You're good to talk to." Pete smiled and blushed at the compliment, right up to the roots of his white blond hair. "And my niece, Mellie. She's my angel, always has been." Seamus chuckled to himself, as if sharing a private joke. "You might even say she's the fire in my heart."
"I beg your pardon? I didn't hear you," Pete said, stepping closer.
Seamus scratched his beard. "Nothin'…" he said, "just my ramblings." He thought for a moment longer. "I already miss my Kelley. But I'll see her again eventually." His heart sunk slightly. He couldn't really think of anyone else he would really truly miss. He looked again at the horizon. "You know something Petey? I've lived here for forty-three years. Never once climbed those mountains. They're all this town has goin' for it, you know. All the tourism that comes through here, none of that would be here without those huge piles of rock."
Pete cleared his throat. "What are you getting at?"
Seamus was quiet. What was he trying to piece together? "Maybe…" he started, "maybe all I'm saying is that some things in life aren't complete without others. Like this town and the mountains. The town wasn't here before the mountains, it was built here for a reason. And that's what we are in comparison to the people and things that come through our lives. Just the town built into the rock. Then we can walk out our doors at all hours of the day and remark about how lovely they are."
"I'm afraid I still don't understand, sir."
The old man scoffed slightly. "I don't think I really do, myself."
The pair stood in silence yet again. A chilly breeze swept around their ankles. The younger man shivered. "Aren't you cold, Mr. O'Connor?"
"No, lad. I'm never cold."
"It's funny. My mother always told my brothers and sisters and I to put a coat on because—"
"—because she was cold lookin' at ya?" Seamus finished with a smile.
Pete laughed. "Yeah! I always thought that was so funny. But looking at you out here in your pajamas, slippers and jacket, I can kind of understand where she's coming from."
After a few seconds of light laughter, Seamus sighed wistfully. "I'd like to climb those mountains someday soon. Before I kick the bucket, I'd love to see the world from as high up as I can get around here." He turned to Pete. "You wanna come with, Petey?"
"And listen to an old man ramble to whole way up the mountain?" Pete asked with a smile.
"Heh?! I ain't old!"
"Alright, tell you what. We'll climb that mountain this weekend," Pete promised.
"Sounds like a good idea to me," Seamus replied.
The birds had begun to chirp before the two men went back inside. By the time they stopped talking and Seamus laid down to sleep, sunlight was creeping through the window.
"You told me to do whatever was needed, sir."
"I didn't mean go have wild sex with her and get yourself injured in the process!" Fury yelled. He had his back to Natasha as a SHIELD medic put a salve on her bare back. If he was anything, Fury was courteous when bitching people out. On her back were a series of burn marks, all resembling hands if one looked close enough. There were also love bites, but Natasha was fond of those. If Melanie was good at anything, she knew how to please a woman.
"She was very persuasive," Natasha mumbled. To her dismay, Fury heard her.
"I see. I see. So a drunk fire mutant got a hold of one of my best agents, managed to get her guard down, and fucked her silly," Fury threw his arms up in exasperation. "Should I rent you a honeymoon suite next time?!"
Natasha knew he could feel her flinty gaze in the back of his bald head. "With all due respect, Director, you would do me a great favor by shutting the fuck up. I'm not an object and will not be treated as such."
The medic looked rather stunned, but continued her work.
Silence lapsed very awkwardly for several minutes.
"She is going to be wiped."
"No."
"Agent Romanov, you came back to SHIELD with second degree burns on your back that were caused by another member of the agency—"
"—and I've had worse happen on several different occasions!" Natasha retorted furiously. "Would you like them listed chronologically or alphabetically? I was intoxicated as well, I got caught up in the heat of the moment. I didn't take this as a particularly dangerous or imperative mission, so I treated the other night as a night off." She motioned to her back. "But this way, we have test results on her 'gift' so it didn't come away a total loss."
Fury put his hands on his hips and shook his head. Then he said, "You have one more chance with this. If Fraser so much as sneezes smoke with harmful intentions, she's gone." As he was leaving the medical bay, he stopped and thought for a moment. "I'm going to ask you again. Are you emotionally compromised by this mission?"
"No, sir."
He gave a grunt that sounded very much like, "my ass," and walked out of medical. Natasha put her head in her hands and rubbed her temples. Then she looked back at the medic who was putting bandages on her burns. "You believe me right?"
The medic simply gave her a knowing look.
"Your silence speaks volumes."
Melanie looked at her map again. The town had only changed a bit since she had last been there, but she was still having trouble finding the home that her uncle was now living in. She put the map down as she clutched the wheel of her car to turn the corner. And there was her Uncle Seamus outside the nursing home, chatting with a young man. He was gangly with white blond hair and a cheeky smile. Melanie waved excitedly and parallel parked outside the nursing home.
"'Ello, little pie," Uncle Seamus said, hugging her tightly when she got out of the car. She was instantly transported back to her childhood just by the smell of his jacket. When they broke apart, Melanie kissed his cheek.
"It's so good to see you Uncle Seamus!" She said excitedly. "I missed you so much!"
"I missed you too, Mellie," Seamus replied with a crinkly smile. He motioned to both her and then to the nurse in turn. "Pete, this is Melanie Fraser, my niece. Mellie, this is Pete Hampton, the primary nurse that looks after me. He's my new best friend." Pete went bright red at that.
"He's exaggerating," Pete said, holding his hand out to shake, which Melanie took. "We started taking last night and now he won't leave me alone."
Melanie laughed at that. "I'm sure he hasn't!"
"I am standing right here, ya know," Seamus muttered. He gave them both a scathing, yet playful, look as they laughed. Then he cleared his throat. "So I was doing some thinking and figured we could grab a bite to eat?"
"Sounds good to me," Melanie smiled. They walked down the street to The Harp and Fiddle restaurant. After acquiring a comfortable table, they began chatting. Most of it concerned Melanie and her new job, which she couldn't go into drastic detail about, but was happy to discuss what she could. Then the topic turned to Pete, who told absurd stories from his days at Penn State Medical. One involved a very pair of chopsticks, some lighter fluid, a couple fireworks, and the Dean's office window.
Melanie snorted into her fish. "You're a child, Pete," she said with a smile.
"We were freshmen in med school, I don't know what you expected," he replied.
Seamus chuckled. "I don' know Mellie, he seems like he has a good head on his shoulders. I woulda done the same thing."
"There, you see, I'm not crazy!" Pete said.
They were quiet for a few minutes. "I don' know about this food," Seamus then said. "They say authentic Irish and Scottish on the door there, but I just don' see it." He frowned as he took a long sip of stout.
"Oh really?" Melanie inquired. "And what are they doing wrong?"
"There isn't enough lard t' kill a man!"
They erupted into laughter at that. Melanie wiped her eyes and glanced out the window. She stopped laughing and narrowed her eyes slightly. There were two men standing across the street, a tall man and a short man. They were both in suits, wearing gloves and sunglasses. Neither had on large coats, despite the cold weather. They looked as if they should be working at a funeral parlor. There was something about them, Melanie couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something very wrong about them. Around their feet, ice was slick and seemed to be creeping across the sidewalk and down the curb. Or was that just her imagination? It was very cold for November this year. And was it just her, or were they staring right at—
"Melanie?" Pete's voice drifted to her.
"Huh?"
"You were staring really intently out the window," he offered a smile. "Are you okay?"
She smiled in return. "Oh yeah, I'm fine," she replied. "It's just been a long time since I was in town, I'm trying to remember what it all looked like when I was little." She hoped that he didn't notice her nervousness. Melanie glanced back out the window a minute later when Pete and Uncle Seamus were having a conversation.
The men were gone.
Melanie found herself exhaling in relief, though she wasn't quite sure why. And then she saw it. Where the men had been standing were two sets of footprints, completely perfect prints with the ice around them. What in the world was going on?
"Melanie Fraser?"
She whipped her head around and felt her heart pick up. The men were at their table. They hadn't removed their sunglasses or gloves. Pete looked nervous, as they were standing right by him. Uncle Seamus looked very angry, staring holes into both of them. Melanie noticed slight wisps of smoke coming off her uncle's hands. She nudged his foot to grab his attention before she took his hand and squeezed. The temperature in his hand reduced and the smoke stopped.
"What can I do for you gentlemen?" Melanie asked evenly, hoping that her voice wouldn't give away her fear.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Fraser. We're with the county police," the tall man said.
"We're going to ask that you come with us," the short man followed.
Melanie narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "And just why is that, officers? Did I double park?"
"No, miss. We have some questions concerning the death of your mother: Norah Fraser," the short man said, his voice monotonous.
"You will come with us," the tall man said.
"Do you have badges?"
The both showed their respective badges.
Melanie un-crossed her arms and stood. "I won't be going with you."
A nerve jumped in the short man's neck and he was flexing his fingers. His leather gloves squeaked as he did. "Are you resisiting arrest?" He asked, his voice patient.
"No, I'm not," she replied. "I may not have lived here in a few years, but even I know that the county police don't have blue and silver badges." She grabbed the steak knife off the table. "I've dealt with the police before when they questioned me about Mother's death. County police badges are red."
The tall man and the short man exchanged glances.
"Who are you?"
They didn't respond. The short man nodded at his associate. The tall man put his hand in his coat.
"Hey, what are you—?!"
Pete's words were cut short as he stood. The short man had moved quicker than Melanie thought possible and stabbed Pete. The implement was sticking out of his back, turning his pale scrubs bright red. Melanie and Seamus both exclaimed loudly and backed up, knocking their chairs over. The restaurant when quiet and then was filled with screams and general noises of panic. The short man flicked Pete away as if he were no more than a bug on a fly swatter. Melanie gasped audibly. It wasn't a knife or a machete that had been used.
The short man's forearm and hand were encased in shining ice. It formed a jagged point that was dripping blood, extending a foot and a half from the tips of his fingers. The hole it had left was as big around as an orange. Pete Hampton sputtered a few times, blood spitting from his mouth, and then was still.
Melanie looked back up at the men, anger filling her to the bursting point. "Who the hell are you?!" She yelled. The tall man brought his hand out of his coat. In his hand was a small, cylindrical object. Too late, Melanie realized it was a detonator. Before anyone could stop him, the tall man pressed the button and the entire restaurant exploded.
There you go, first new update. I hope you guys enjoyed this one, it was a bitch to write. It's been a scorcher where I live and I've been really lazy, so this took a little bit longer than I would've liked.
One. One review. C'mon guys, you can do better than that! Please review, ladies, gents, and all others. I don't want to have to say "if I get a certain number of reviews then I'll update!" So please give me all and any feedback.
I hope you guys enjoyed! See you in a few days.