A/N: We're entering the last leg of Leo's tale. Strap in, folks!

Sciencegal - Who needs Rosetta Stone? We got Mozallo! :D

Duckie - Such beautiful insight. Thank you.

CHAPTER 27: WAY

Mid Wet Season covered the sky in gray clouds so thick the sun disappeared. Subtle thunder boomed, but Leonardo had become skilled in detecting when the rain would fall. He kept his papers protected under his hooded poncho and entered the Library where Huitzilopochtli prepared for another shipment to the United States.

"Good; I am on time," he said in Nahuatl.

Huitzi, now accustomed to the mutant's new language, accepted the papers Leo offered without glancing up from the inventory he marked. "No one says you must be in the forest to write your tribe letters," he said.

"Nature makes me more…comfortable. No offense."

"What offense is there to take? You accepted Mozallo. Now you must acclimate to it. That will require time. Much time."

Leo cringed. "You would think after a month things would be easier."

Truth be told, the mutant struggled to navigate his connection with Coyolxauhqui. Although their cycle was complete, their jumbled emotions worsened, and Zaddir's coaching helped about as much as Mikey did in Don's lab. The Languu was hiding something—both Leo and Coyo felt it—yet she kept quiet, avoiding the matter. Which sucked; Leo would like to know why being alone with the Chieftain left him confused and why her touches made him believe he never had to leave the K'ekchi.

"How many letters this time, Cuamahui?"

Leonardo looked down on the tribesman as he bound the papers to a small crate with twine. "Five," he answered.

"Your count is rising."

"A bit."

"Does this mean you are preparing to reconnect with them?"

The question felt like a slap in the face, and Leo choked on his answer. He gaped, stricken by both an odd pulse in his brain as well as the tribesman's bony backside. Shadows across it revealed his protruding spine, shoulder blades, and ribs with an intensity that nauseated the mutant yet he couldn't look away.

"You are not mistaken; my condition has worsened since you arrived," said Huitzi. He moved to another crate, joints popping, and began folding ponchos to pack inside it.

"Omipalan, Rotten Bone Sickness. I"—Leo licked his chapped lips—"I understand it, even though you never told me about it."

"Mozallo."

"It's a genetically engineered parasite meant for the Languu, right? To kill their IgRs."

"Yaoqui had hoped to cause an alien pandemic. They failed."

"It was meant to taint the water supply that runs through Ihiyoyahualli."

"Back then, they were unaware the Languu do not drink."

"But your mother drank. And a few others. From that stream for—for healing purposes. You noticed the dying plants too late."

"We cleared the vegetation, the land, and irrigated a new waterway, but the sickness had crept in, poisoned our source that once renewed us. It is a slow killer. Takes many seasons. I have had it for over half my life, and Chieftain Coatlicue survived longer than any other with it."

"She died three seasons before I arrived. Coyo was so scared."

"By then, I had long-since been tainted as well."

"In battle. When your mother…"

Sighing, Huitzi laid a hand on the last poncho he had folded. "We discovered then the sickness is spread through blood. We should exile those with Omipalan. But our numbers are too small. Instead, we are forbidden from marriage and transferred to the Machixquich."

"I think you make an excellent teacher," said Leo with a smile. "The kids love you."

"It is a difficult position," Huitzi spoke in a low tone. "The classes grow scarcer, and our young ones must accept at an early age that they should be prepared to die for Eztaca. As Coyo learned. She—" The tribesman gripped the poncho, thin arms bulging with veins. "I wanted nothing more than to give my sister a proper childhood. I wanted her to smile, to play, be happy. But because I was poisoned, she became the successor."

"You had no idea the parasite would—"

"Whether we knew or not, means nothing. Leadership was thrust on Coyo, and she has spent countless seasons denying it. I hoped Tonalquizca Atl's decent would make her realize she must fight to survive. Even if it is her own family, she must. To fulfill the promise she has marked on her body."

"Could you have killed your father so easily?"

"Atl was no longer my father; he had lost his mind. For a long time, he had been prone to outbursts, isolation, and invisible foes."

"A lot like me when I first came here, huh?"

Huitzi closed his mouth, arm falling to his side. "Coyo had faith in you. And I in her. Even if I did not agree with where her attention was focused."

"On an outsider."

"Forgive me, Cuamahui. She has a role."

"Which others try to control. Has it not settled in yet? She does not want to rule according to 'traditional' standards."

"If things went her way—"

Leonardo stepped ahead, stomped his foot. "They could be better. You will never know unless you try. Tell me honestly: did you think Coyo could help me heal?"

The tribesman kept quiet, and his shoulders slumped as he sighed.

"Neither did I," Leo continued. "But she did. You consider her empathy a liability when it is her greatest strength. She holds onto kindness when she has every reason to let it go. That sort of person could uplift your people if you gave her a chance."

"Leonardo." A shiver worked through the mutant as Huitzi faced him. He wore a wry smile that bunched the taut skin over his sunken features and revealed his rotten teeth. "You have such a high opinion of my sister, of her true spirit, not—not what she pretends to show the Elders."

"Of course," whispered Leo. "She saved me, made me feel at home. How can I not lo—like her for that?"

"Like," Huitzi echoed. His smile strengthened, knotting Leo's stomach. "She is fond of you as well. She finds strength with you that no other has given her, and I am relieved she has found it. However…"

"However?"

"It breaks my heart. When I pass, and you return to New York, what will happen to that strength?"

Leo held his breath. Part of him longed to tell Huitzilopochtli the support ran bother ways. Then again, what good would it do to confess that the best thing to happen to the mutant lately had come in the form of a curly-haired native? And that her care was the only reason he wanted to live again? He owed her more than he could repay, and on some level, he realized Coyo understood his time with the K'ekchi was growing to a close.

"The Pesto Tribe forsook us, Honored Chief. Why do you insist?"

Coyolxauhqui glanced at Tlaloc before returning to the letter she fastened around Yolotli's talon. "We need help," she said.

"Yo has dropped many letters throughout their territory. You should stop fishing for a reply before they fly an arrow through his breast."

"They would not harm Yo."

"How do you know?"

"Old stories of the time we shared gods with the Pesto Tribe. Cochotl is a divine messenger, protected." The young women smiled as the animal nuzzled her with his rough beak, giggling when he picked a bug from her hair. "Yo will be safe, so we will keep trying."

"You never thought to do so before. What changed?" Tlaloc folded his arms across his toned chest. He wanted an answer, not an excuse, but not much could be said without revealing her Mozallo with Leonardo.

"I cannot live up to my ancestors," she said, gentle. "Nor do I wish to. They are not who I am, Tlaloc. I am realizing my way, and…"

"Your way?"

"I do not want to be remembered for desertion, isolation, madness, or coldness. I want future generations to think of me and see compassion, integrity, community—humanity in the face of war. Even if the Elders hate me, I will no longer be lying to myself. I will be leading how I want. Knowing this, would you follow me?"

Tlaloc's red face paled. It looked pasty compared to his Texohuitztli, and at some point, he had stepped close enough to place a palm against the woman's cheek. Any other Chieftain would have told him he had overstepped a boundary. Coyo would not; his touch lacked the spark that Leonardo held, and she was painfully aware of how much he cared.

"Where was this belief?" the man asked in a low voice. "Did it come with him? Will it leave with him, too?" Coyo's jaw tensed as Tlaloc's expression softened. "I pray not. It suits you. And I would gladly follow. Wherever you may need me."

"Coyo! How long does it take to send a cochotl?" Izel emerged from the village gates with a huff and jug in tow. She paused when she noticed Tlaloc held her best friend, but Coyolxauhqui sent her a smile as she pushed down the man's hand.

"He was just about to take flight, right, Yo?"

Yo squawked, vibrant wings flapping.

"Good boy. Return safely." The Chieftain outstretched her arm then pushed Yo's weight upward. Air from his flight tousled Coyo's hair, and she pushed the ringlets back as she watched the cochotl disappear over the rainforest canopy.

"Hopefully, this time he returns with news," Izel said, snorting. "Meanwhile, we have dinner. And I am not making it alone."

"Understood," Coyo replied. "Tlaloc, would you join us for supper?"

"Yes," Tlaloc answered. "I will fetch my father."

"And we will fetch water," Izel interjected. She held up the jug, pulling Coyo towards the forest by her hips. "Warm the fire!"

"Oh"—Coyo spoke over her shoulder—"and if Leo is there, please have him chop vegetables!"

Tlaloc mumbled something in reply, although Coyo could not hear it over the young women's shuffles. "Your fingers hurt, Izel," she told the skinhead.

Izel's grip lightened yet she kept close as if in fear of being overheard. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Uh, walking?"

"No."

"Talking?"

"No! With Tlaloc. Why was he touching you?"

"Oh, that was meaningless."

"No, no, not nothing." Izel skipped ahead to halt Coyo along the pathway and jabbed a finger into the Chieftain's chest. "You know how he feels about you."

"And he knows I cannot return those feelings."

"Does he understand why?"

"What do you mean?" Coyo rounded her friend—partly to arrive at the river faster and partly because the skinhead's stare made her admit to anything.

"Mozallo has only made the truth more clear," Izel said behind her.

"What truth?"

"Huehuei Ometeotl. I see it. The whole village sees it. How can we not? You stand stronger together."

Coyo stopped. Although she dared not face Izel, she could not move forward either.

"Leonardo has accepted you as I always have," Izel continued. "You bring him joy; it shows in his eyes. And it hurts to consider the future."

"He does not have to go," Coyo replied. "He can stay. For however long he wishes."

"He has family in New York. Would you be cruel enough to keep him from them?"

No. Maybe the Hamatos could move, though. Or Coyo and Leo could write letters through April O'Neil. She would not have to say goodbye forever, would she? Anxiety swelled in the young woman's chest, hot and sickening, and she glanced down at her dirty feet.

"The draw was there before Mozallo," Izel continued. "I have watched you two pull at one another like the moon and tide. You have a harmony, but…his place is with his family."

"I realize that!" Coyo spun with her fists clenched. "Every day, a longing inside me grows to see people I have never met. There are shame and hope mixed with worry, and it is not mine. He wants to see them, yet when with me, his messages ar—are jumbled. The longing fades. He wants to do the little things we did before: hold my hand, stroke my cheek. But he refuses. And it is confusing because I want him to do those things as well. So is it my desire? Or his?"

"Uh"—Izel scratched her hairline—"I would guess both."

"That cannot be."

"Why not?"

"Because if he felt the same, he would never consider leaving!" Coyolxauhqui shook as her anxiety pushed tears from her eyes. She could hardly see Izel when the skinhead approached. "Why must I sacrifice so much good in my life? Why can I not have this one thing?"

Izel dropped her jug, and it thumped in the mud as her arms enveloped Coyo's shoulders. "I am sorry, Teueltiuh," she whispered.

"Mozallo was easier with Zaddir. Her emotions are straightforward."

"And just think: she has the burden of shifting through yours and Leo's unsaid love."

"It is not—"

"Whatever it may be, it is special. Cherish it while you can."

Coyolxauhqui gripped her friend in return. She had no voice to answer and no will to admit that one day, she would be standing alone. She had only sobs, which she released with fury.

Obadiah ran a knife blade along the edges of his overgrown beard—not so much to trim is as to remind his fellow agents who held power inside their debriefing room. The area resembled a metallic pill capsule with LED lights dotting its seams, and outsiders could mistake its occupants for a quartet of dumbasses in a useless elevator. Still, the obvious lack of EPF technology meant nothing; Obadiah knew pin-point cameras set all around him allowed for holographic recordings.

"Is this necessary?" asked Hyde. He fidgeted between agents Vance and Noel yet kept composed.

"You're my recon team," Obadiah answered. "And Jefe favors updates."

"You decide to indulge him now, Señor?"

Obadiah's knife slid below his jawline, making scratchy noises that the air-tight room made prominent. "He insisted, Mano. So state your names."

Hyde groaned although Vance stepped forward, saying, "Agent Beverly Anne Vance. Ecuador Sector. ID number T-76415. Active duty as of today, December fourteenth, two thousand twelve. Current assignment Barrier Control. Last contact with Agent Bishop had been over six months ago. Ready to report."

"Damn," Noel said, "you keep all the on a memory chip, Bionic Woman?"

"Some of us are actually competent, Quincy."

"Ouch."

"Noel"—Obadiah began running his knife's edge down his neck—"if you would, Pendejo."

The greasy man cracked a crooked grin, ignorant of his superior's insult. "Uh, kay. Agent Quincy Noel. Ecuador. Active duty on Barrier Patrol. ID number, uh, T-16—no, no, 156-something…something. It's on my badge. Promise. Oh, and I have no idea the last time I contacted the big boss."

Obadiah repressed a sigh. Noel was his least favorite agent, but the fool kept Hyde focused. And Hyde was the star of their current update.

"Bet you ten bucks you can't recite your ID either," Noel told Hyde with an impish look.

Hyde rolled his eyes then joined Vance. "Agent Xander Ruiz Rodriguez Santiagola la Arroyo Hyde with the Ecuador Sector. ID number T-44187. Active duty as a, uh, Barrier Investigator. New branch. Leading member. Current assign?" The man shrugged. "Barrier investigation?"

Obadiah's smile grew. "State what that entails, please. For the record."

"I…well, I—"

"Agent Xander Hyde."

Hyde sent Obadiah a dull look. "I, Agent Xander Hyde, study the Barrier for weaknesses, patterns, and signs of the indigenous tribe that shelters the Jinchos. I mean, Languu."

"Tell Bishop of your encounter on the Barrier's outskirts," Obadiah added.

The younger Hispanic steeled, fists curling as Vance and Noel watched. They must've been curious since Obadiah hadn't told anyone of the alien spotting, and Hyde challenged the command with narrowed eyes.

"Our boss needs to know the war is progressing," Obadiah insisted. "Otherwise, he may come have a look for himself for why it isn't."

Luckily, Hyde lacked his partner's dimness; while Noel quirked an eyebrow, Hyde squared his stance. "Late November, I came across two indigenous tribes attempting to broker a truce. It went south, and I ended up surrounded by one tribe. I…" The man paled to a light tan color. "I fought my way out. That is until I met one of them."

"Define 'them.'"

"A Jincho. An alien. A Languu."

"Dude"—Noel spun Hyde by the arm—"you saw one? Damn, did it look anything like the illustrations from orientation? Burning blue skeletons?"

"Like something from a nightmare," Hyde answered lowly.

"Was it psychic like suspected as well?"

Hyde froze as if stricken by Vance's question. "Yes. It tried to make a deal with me."

"What kind of deal?"

"Nothing I'd agree to."

"Did you kill it?"

"Damn, Bev." Noel snorted. "Jealous?"

"If he didn't capture it, what other option's left? Unless he let it go on purpose."

"Why would I do that, Beverly?"

"Maybe that was part of your deal."

"I told you, there was no deal. It was impossible, anyway."

"That your only reason for turning it down?"

Hyde sneered at the grump-faced brunette, and Obadiah chuckled, saying, "Come now. Hyde wouldn't turn on us, would you, Mano?"

Hyde shook his head.

"See? All's good. Besides, our brave man learned something exciting that day."

"Oh?" Noel sent his partner a look.

"Just before the attack," Hyde said, "I noticed the markers for the Barrier have moved, shrunk in radius."

"You mean"—Vance fought a smile—"we're gaining ground? Physical ground?"

"Sí, sí," Obadiah answered. "And we don't plan on letting up anytime soon. Hear that, Jefe?" The man picked a random camera to face with his knife rotating between his fingers. "An opportunity is coming our way. You want your agents ready to capture those nasty Jinchos? Then you'd better push your brains at The Island to conquer that Davvu Stone faster. Report over."