by Jaya Mitai
As suggested to me by one of the LOVELY, BLESSED people that feedbacked my lastonfiltered=) I'm pulling an Alicia McKenzie, and this is going to be a series, since I did sorta leave it open both ways to do some lovely characterization, and hey, I may as well experiment with Sam a bit. He seems to be mah lucky charm. =)
And since it's a bit of an Elseworld ANYWAY, I'd NEVER do that to poor ol' Sam in my universe, considering I already killed Cable and Remy only has one hand and Logan's insane and . . . but that's another story. =) The POINT is that I KNOW Dani Moonstar isn't _supposed_ to be there. There's a reason, I promise, just kick back and think, hmm . . .
Disclaimer - belongs to Marvel, no money, don't sue. Just love me and shower me with feedback like "HOW COULD YOU BE SO MEAN TO SAM?!?!?!" except more original, because I got more than a couple of those and all you did was make me smile. I could get into this whole sadistic writer thing . . . =)
Many thanks to Kaylee for such sweet feedback - this is to force her to rejoin OTL, y'know. Write lots of good fic so she feels left out and comes back. =) And to Alicia, for permanently kicking my brain into writing mode, it seems, as well as Sarah Cascade for her wonderful Sam comments on the last one that never got thanks. You never thought I'd use it for this, did you. =) Thanks to Duey for beta-reading and catching my boo-boo. =) Falstaff . . . your comments on this were VERY helpful and YOU are the whole REASON poor Sam is gonna get kicked around in the NEXT installment . . . I hope all the Sam fans find you and beat you. =)
Domino cast a glance behind her as they passed through the glare of the streetlight, eyes settling on a pair of tremendously long eyelashes, brushing the cheeks of the young man as he slept the sleep of the exhausted.
While the Camry they'd rented was roomy, it wasn't nearly long enough for the man to have stretched out. Though he had the entire back seat to himself, he was forced to curl on his side like a young child, arms clutched against his chest as if to protect it.
Domino turned back, stifling a yawn and resting her head on the headrest so that her eyes fell without effort on Cable's knee. "Too bad we can't get the rest of the bunch to behave this well on long trips."
Nate didn't respond past a very slight tickle of amusement down the link, almost more for her benefit than sincere feeling on his part.
"You knock him out?"
He shook his head, taking the opportunity to roll his head back against his shoulders, alleviating the strain of the past forty hours. His human hand rested on the top of his thigh, and Domino used the last of her strength to snag his hand with hers and squeeze.
"He dreaming?"
As they passed under another stream of lamplight, she could see even from the side the difference in the color of light as Cable's eye glowed dully for a moment, then faded. He shook his head, idly stroking the tips of her fingers with his own, and she allowed her eyes to unfocus, his knee now appearing like the rugged, blurred landscape of a mountain rather than wrinkled khaki.
Silence once more circled the car three times before settling in for the night.
* * * * * * *
Domino blinked in complete surprise as the man with the red shirt, catching the escapees on the other side of the wall, was passing them small Bibles and whispering to them before setting them on the ground.
Can't that ass hear the damn siren? We've got to get these people out of here! Guards will be here any second!
She picked up one of the last, a small girl, shoving her through the recently unbarred window to the man with the red shirt even as she heard the footsteps grinding on the filth that made up the floor of the filthy prison. Then she turned, to face the enemy, hold him off as long as she could. Sirens screamed through the night.
With a jolt she came awake.
The tires had pretty much ground to a halt in the shoulder, and the siren was cut off, but the lights were bright and dancing about gleefully in the cab of the car. She took in one deep, surprised breath, suddenly alert, and her eyes found Nate.
Who was watching the side mirror with a look that could most likely prevent a starving wolf from descending on a lamb at his feet.
*Are you kidding me?*
#You're the one that yelled at me for going the speed limit.# He sounded decidedly grumpy, but there was the tiniest hint of teasing reprimand offsetting the crabby mental tone, enough to make her smile.
"Wha?" There was a sleepy sigh from the back seat.
The cop had gotten out of his car, and was coming around to the driver's side, a leather-bound pad of paper in one hand and a pen flashlight in the other. State trooper, judging from the brown uniform, and this one was flawless and unwrinkled. They _would_ have to get pulled over by the State's version of a Summers. Domino laughed softly, wondering if they could get off with a warning.
Then again, it _is_ always handy to have a telepath lying around . . .
Nathan watched the officer approach, his eye glowing fitfully for a moment, and Domino listened to the footsteps, not at all dissimilar from the ones in her dream. The officer shined the light first on Nate, then on Domino, who smiled in a way similar to warmly but without the warmth. He refocused on Cable, who was looking as irritable as he possibly could without pulling a facial muscle. The officer cleared his throat.
"Sir, do you have any idea how fast you were going?"
Cable nodded. "I was going 98, well below the speed limit." A very offhand, casual statement in a tone that belied the look on his face.
The cop watched him a moment, then put away the leather-bound pad he had brought with him. "That's correct. Sorry to trouble you." The officer clicked his pen back in and tucked it into the left chest pocket of his uniform, turning away.
Cable smiled tightly to the man, restarting the engine. "No problem, Officer. G'journey."
The officer tipped his hat to Domino, who nodded back with a brilliant smile, and peered into the back seat, nodding to a very startled Sam before continuing his way to his vehicle, disengaging the lights as Nate squealed away in a flurry of flying gravel.
"That was subtle."
"Do you want to drive?"
Domino arched an eyebrow at his tone. It was almost . . . vicious was the wrong word, but it was certainly biting. And G'journey? What would have made him make _that_ kind of slip?
*Is there something -*
#No.#
Domino unbuckled her seatbelt to turn to stare at Sam, who had half sat up and was staring from eyes that had a startled, dazed quality.
"Hey, big guy. Go back to sleep. We got another couple hours."
"Since we obviously have to go the flonqing speed limit at 3:12 in the morning," Cable muttered savagely. Domino rolled her eyes.
"Remind me never to take him driving without a thermos of coffee," she murmured dryly to Sam, who leaned back down without a word, obediently closing his eyes. She rested her chin on the small soft ledge between the top of the back of the seat and the headrest, the material tickling the sensitive skin of her neck. And watched Sam.
He never reopened his eyes, and it took remarkably little time for his breathing to slow and become as regular as clockwork. It was slightly more rapid than it had been before, and she hoped he didn't fall into REM sleep. The last thing he needed right now was to dream.
She gently tousled the mop of soft blonde hair on his head, watching his breathing for a change. He was out like a light. She turned back around in her seat, not bothering with the seatbelt and moving onto her hip so her body was again open in the general direction of Nate, who didn't appear to take notice. In face, the knuckles that clutched the dark grey wheel were white.
*Nate, what is it?*
Cable's face was set in absolute stone. #Nothing.#
*Don't nothing me.*
She was absolutely stunned to see Nate's lip turn up in a snarl as he debated, and suddenly an image poured down the link.
It was a clearing, somewhere with a lot of pines, scenic, moonlight shining down. In the center of the clearing a young man was curled, half trying to get up as three or four men in brown state trooper uniform rhythmically and regularly beat him. The image lasted long enough for her to notice one of the men begin to unstrap his belt, then snapped off like a roll of film that was suddenly cut in half.
Even without his projection a single image of the pain on that face
"Did you hunt for that," she asked quietly.
That seemed to make him, if possible, even more tense. "No," he said shortly, also quietly. "He saw Sam in a grocery store earlier today and apparently sat down with his cronies and planned it out." The leather on the steering wheel cracked a bit as his techno organic hand shifted slightly.
Domino settled back straight in her chair, staring out the windshield at the road flying by.
"God, I hate Virginia." *That wasn't all you saw, was it.*
Nathan didn't answer.
Neither one noticed the man in the back seat, his eyes wide open, continuing the same deep breathing, timing it to his pulse.
* * * * * * *
He didn't wake up the second time around until he was already bed. The arm beneath his knees was hard and cold, the one about his shoulders strong and warm, and both were gently settling him onto the mattress. Dimly he felt blankets pulled over him, dimly a finger across his face, and then the light he hadn't even noticed extinguished completely with the click of the door.
And he was alone.
He opened his eyes, blurred and fuzzy with sleep and eyegunk.
Someone had made his bed. From clean sheets. Instead of the thick warm flannel he was under a thin, summer cotton sheet and a cozy wool blanket. Summer or no, the nights in the north tended to get a little chilly.
Not like back home. Back home the nights seemed warmer than the day, the sun gone and thus the humidity climbing to levels that would wake you with beads of sweat tickling down your legs and chest.
Home.
He squeezed his eyes shut again, against the dim moonlight coming through the mostly closed blinds, against the loving edge that had been folded into the blanket about his shoulders. Against the room that looked down on him in concern.
Against the empty slab of wood above his head where a corkboard used to be.
And he thought of home.
* * * * * * *
The letter had been opened and read, re-read many times that week, and was not at all surprised to be lifted once again from its hiding place, once again to be watered like a petunia that refuses to sprout.
Dear Momma,
Meant to come up and deliver this in person, but things came up, so I had to mail it instead. I hope you understand. You've probably heard the news, or maybe the rest of the herd drowned it out during dinnertime. Didn't want to call you, wouldn't be the same, somehow.
I'm going to take some time off, I don't know where I'll end up. I hope to visit you soon, as soon as . . . as I can. To help you with the little 'uns.
Did I do something wrong? I keep thinking and thinking, about what I said and did out in public, trying to pin down when I even would have said anything about it, and I can't remember. I do remember as a little kid, playing with Ryan's G.I Joes. But that was different, I never thought I was a soldier. It was make-believe.
What happened? I never meant for this, never meant to be a role-model or a hero. I remember you beside my bed, that one night, when you found me crying, and told me it was a gift, something I could use to help people. Like Mister. Summers. He took one heck of a childhood and turned it into something worthwhile, something to be proud of. He never hurt anyone like this. He never caused anything like this. What did I do wrong?
I can only think that I didn't work hard enough. I could have studied more, should have been paying more attention to what I said, instead of showing off like I must have. I've seen Mister Summers say the same thing to a scared little kid, say that it's a gift. A gift that I must have misused, and I hope that the good Lord sees fit to take it back, give it to someone more capable of handling the responsibilities that come with it.
I was thinking. All the lives I saved? Someone else could have managed it. There's nothing about my power that's really rare or extraordinary. Lots of mutants can fly, and Rogue, for instance, is invulnerable all the time. I'm only safe in the blast field. Even then I get in the way more times than not. So I'm gonna ask Cable to turn if off, at least for a while, and I'm hoping that you'll let me stay with you for a while, help out on the farm a bit to clear my head, think of someplace to go next, something to do that's safe, and normal, and a help to you.
For all the time that I've spent doing this and all the pain and worry I put you through, the least I can do is give you a good half hour every night to sit in calm and quiet and relax, try to get that time back. I'll call you, but not at the school - I know I should at least spend the rest of the year,there but my grades are good enough that I'll pass without being there for the last few weeks.
I love you, Momma.
Sam
A pair of steady, strong hands folded the well-handled paper into the same three segment folds, gently tucking it in a hutch and closing the wooden doors, resting there a moment before going to pick up the ringing phone and a small HotWheels car on the floor.
* * * * * * *
"Momma?"
He didn't hear anything for a moment, not the usual sounds of the kids in the background, not the cat, not the radio or the television or a pot bubbling over on the stove. Just . . . the quiet hiss of the line. A burble of static. Silence.
"Honey?"
His breath shuddered out of him before he could stop himself, and he heard the catch of breath on the other side. So full of worry, of doubt . . . she was afraid to talk to him?
"Oh, Sam, baby, Ah was so worried -"
"Momma," he continued past a rebelling throat that changed the pitch of his voice marginally, "Y'gotta get the kids outta the house. Y'go, too. Take 'em tah your aunts, anywhere, just get 'em outta th' state -"
"Sam."
He stopped midsentence, minding her despite the urgency screaming down his veins. Stupid stupid stupid! He should have thought about it days ago, where were they, why didn't he hear them over there? It was six o'clock, they should have been up by now
"Sam, hon, it's a'right. What's gotten intah you? Don't you remember how tah calm down an' talk so Ah can understand you?"
"You don't understand -"
"Sam." Calm, cotton over steel. "Sam, no one here blames you f'what happened -"
"Momma." His voice cracked. Interrupting her was a good way to get whacked. "Y'don't understand. Ah was in Virginia, there was this man-"
"Sam, you hush an' mind me!"
He hushed out of necessity rather than obedience, chasing a frantic sob back down his throat, praying that he hadn't attracted anyone's attention, praying he wouldn't be caught on the phone, questioned-
"They already came, Sam."
He literally found he could not breathe.
"Your littlest sister . . . she's in th' hospital. Doc says . . . she's got an okay chance." The catch in the calmness screamed lie to him more loudly than Monet about her crayons. "They burned a bit o' th' house, too, but not bad. Y'neighbors . . . they came out an' helped me chase 'em off. Your old friend Henry's here, got his rifle an' he's out on th' front porch. Gonna watch th' house while I'm gone."
Rifle. On the porch. Watching the house. Watching _his_ house. _His_ family.
"Oh, momma . . ."
"Sam, Ah said mind me!" Anger there, now. Irritation at having to repeat herself. "Ah've got tah go visit your sister, Ah wanna be there when she wakes up so she isn't as scared. You remember how fond she is o' doctors." The lightness was belied by the quiver in her voice. "Ah don't think it'd be a good idea if you came home, Sam. Not right now. Th' town preacher . . . he's not too fond o' the violence, but he thinks what happened is . . . is your fault, somehow. Th' town is supporting us for a while, protectin' the house an' the kids, but Ah've got a farm tah run an' Ah can't depend on them forever."
He had stopped breathing long before, the phone pressed against his ear painfully.
"Ah just think it might be better if yah stayed up where y'are for a while, till things settle down. Y'safer up there, Sam, we can git along jest fine by ourselves for a spell."
Home . . . I can't go home . . .
"Sam? That sound a'right tah you?"
My home . . . they went after my home . . . don't need me for a spell . . . don't need me . . .
"Sam?"
My sister . . . what have I done?
"Momma . . ." He choked. "Momma, Ah'm so sorry . . ."
There was a sigh, full of exhaustion. "Ah know, baby, Ah know. Ah gotta git, now, so y'just stay up there, and be by th' phone, in case?"
She waited a second for his response, but he couldn't force the air through his throat without a cry, and after a moment of silence, the phone clicked, and the line went dead.
A cry of pure anguish screamed down that empty line, and frame-wracking sobs followed it.
The dial tone didn't sympathize.
Sob after sob shook him to the core, ear still aching though he clearly heard the phone hit the floor, falling from nerveless fingers that now clutched to his face, trying to muffle his cries. Last thing he needed was to cause a scene, not after what he put Domino and Cable through to find him, not after that
It took him a long time to realize that the hard thing pressed against his ear was a wad of bedsheets. It took him longer still to open his eyes, afraid that it wasn't a dream, afraid to see that it had happened, afraid . . .
Afraid to know.
Eyes swimming with tears, he cracked them open
And saw that he was entirely covered in a hot, murky darkness.
The blanket.
A dream.
It had been a dream, then. A terrible, terrible nightmare.
Sobs continued to shake him, whether sobs of relief or grief he couldn't tell, and didn't care. All that mattered was that it had been a dream, that his little sisters and brothers were alright, that his momma was okay
No, no, God please don't let that be some kind of weird precognitive
There was a gasp, decidedly feminine, from somewhere in the world outside the wool blanket.
It was only long-ingrained habit that made him poke his head out. It had been a gasp of terror, and he'd woken to them once too often not to instantly shift into a much calmer, more rational emotion instantly and yank his head out of the covers.
Dani Moonstar, clad only in a long tee-shirt, was staring into the space just above his head, a look of abject terror on her face, the hand still clutching her toothbrush pressed to her mouth.
Dani? What was she doing here? He shook his head slightly, doubting his eyes yet again.
Her eyes fell on Sam, filling with tears, and she fled from his doorway.
And his heart stopped completely.
* * * * * * *
He heard the footsteps in the hall, the running feet, counting four pair without putting any conscious thought into it.
Thirteen. Fourteen.
Heard a strong, authoritative knock on his door, which he'd locked.
Fifteen.
"Sam! Sam, open this door!"
Sixteen.
"Sam!"
He heard the lock break, felt the wind of displaced air on his still-damp cheeks.
Seventeen.
Heard them enter, slowly.
Eighteen.
He turned to them, phone still to his ear, counting the rings.
"She isn't there," he managed thickly, after the nineteenth ring. "No one's at th' house."
Something in the far back of Domino's eyes broke, their shape changing as tension relaxed some of the muscles around her eyes and pain tightened others. "What house?"
Twenty.
"Mine," he whispered, and slowly hung up the phone. "No one's at mah house."
She took a step forward, slowly. Carefully.
"Okay, Sam. It's alright, we'll go down there, make sure that everything's okay, alright? Just calm down a little first, put some clothes on, okay?" Her hand reached out. For his.
Behind her, Cable watched, his face unchanging, not angry, just . . . the look on any other face wouldn't be associated with something like concern, but Sam had learned to read that face well. More than concern. That look was the look Cable had before he went into a tough battle, or onto terrain he knew little about.
He's gonna stop me. Sam couldn't stop the thought before it was projected loudly enough for any telepath within miles to hear, and as he expected, there was not the slightest flicker across Cable's face.
Behind him, Dani peered around Cable's immense frame, her eyes wide, scared.
Sam's eyes returned to the violet, beseeching ones closest to him.
"It isn't alright, is it," he said hoarsely, and swallowed something thick in his throat.
Domino's lips parted slightly in the middle, and her eyes flickered, just a moment.
"I don't know, Sam. You tell me."
Sam looked down at the phone, almost willing it to ring. It didn't.
"D'you . . . d'you know why . . .?"
Domino came forward another step. "No, Sam, I don't. But we're going to check it out, and make sure they're okay, alright? So at least throw on a fresh shirt?" Her attempt at a light tone came off pretty convincingly, her hand still outstretched. He looked at it, then at Dani.
"What do you see?" He whispered it, making her jump nonetheless, and her eyes immediately went to Cable, who tilted his chin up slightly.
"Sam . . . " Her voice was strained, not at all the gentle, singsong voice she had around Brightwind.
He dropped his head, bringing a hand to his face to scrub it vigorously before his shoulders were shaken by yet another sob.
Just as he expected, Domino's arms came around him supportively, protectively. Just as he expected, he heard Cable relax slightly, murmuring.
Just as she didn't expect, he tucked a foot around Domino's ankle and shoved her backwards, hard. Right into Cable.
Without missing a beat or a backwards glance he blasted out the window, straight up into the sky, hoping beyond hope that if he took enough twists and turns, Cable wouldn't be able to stop him in time.
Something shook his blastfield, making his ears scream pain and his inner ear shiver, but faded quickly, and as soon as the worst of the dizziness passed, he looked down, very far down below him, to see Siryn, flying hard to catch him, grabbing a breath for the next scream.
Fourth set of footsteps. He was lucky she hadn't taken him down.
With a burst of speed he left her effective range, then started off towards the horizon with the rising sun to his left.
continued in Of Shattered Wings and Fading Dreams