In My Image
Part Fourby Diamonde
One note... don't be fooled by Viashan's mostly harmless impression in this part, there's still a twist or two hanging around. I swear, sometimes that man even worries me.
Key: (I have too many people talking...)
thought
#Telepathic message#
*Viashan talkin'*
It was late in the afternoon when Sam finally woke up to find Cable sitting next to the bed and watching him. He didn't mind though, since Cable had had the foresight to quickly hand him a bucket to throw up into. He needed it. "Oh, God..."
"That'll happen when you get drunk," Cable said with absolutely no sympathy.
"Ah didn't... oh, shit..." His head pounded as he vomited some more, only adding to the way his mouth felt like something had crawled in there and died.
"There's another reason for you to reek like that and be so hung over you can't see straight?"
"Ah would have remembered getting drunk." He paused, realising that his memory wasn't so much fuzzy as completely absent. "Probably. Ah mean, you usually at least remember starting to drink."
"Do you remember where you went last night?" He still didn't sound very sympathetic, and Sam was rather annoyed about that. He felt utterly pathetic, and was fairly sure he looked worse.
"Didn't go anywhere. Ah got angry at you, overreacted now Ah think about it, came in here, then..." He frowned. "Then Ah don't remember."
"Now do you believe me that there's something in your head that shouldn't be?" Now he didn't only look unsympathetic, he looked pissed off.
Hunched over the bucket, Sam looked up with bloodshot eyes. "No."
"And that doesn't sound at all irrational to you? You can't remember the last twenty-four hours, at least seven of which you spent unconscious here, and got absolutely plastered sometime in that gap.... and this doesn't bother you at all?"
Sam frowned. "Ah just... there's a rational explanation, there must be..."
"Yes. That someone is making you think that there's nothing wrong." The irritation faded, and Cable spoke softer. "I can prove it too. After that much alcohol your mental defences are almost gone, even now I won't have any trouble finding whatever it is."
He didn't want to. Something that was almost panic swept over him at the very idea of someone coming that close to who he was. And that was strange, because it had never really bothered him that much before. Ah don't have anything to hide, right? "Okay. Just... gimme a second." Staggering up the hall to the bathroom, Sam rinsed his mouth and his face and told himself firmly that there was nothing left in his stomach to evict. Then added that there was also nothing to be scared of, and he should let go of the basin and leave the room.
In the end it was that reluctance that forced him out. He'd never been afraid of Cable that way before, and if there was nothing wrong with him (which he was quite sure of) there was no reason to start.
"Go on then. Prove Ah'm posessed. Ah already did the vomiting bit, let's see if you can make my head spin around."
Cable gave a long-suffering sigh and looked over at Pete. "Keep an eye on both of us, okay?"
"Whatever." Pete looked thoughtfully over at the younger man. "But if his head does start spinnin', you're on your own."
"His head isn't going to spin around." Cable glared nastily, more than happy to work of a little of his bad mood on Pete Wisdom. Pete was completely unfazed by it.
"Then get on with it before he passes out again."
Cable looked back to Sam's confused, uncertain face and took a calming breath. "I just hope there's enough room in there for me and the hangover."
"What? Was that an attempt at a joke? I refuse to believe it..."
Pete's rambling was lost as he slipped behind inside Sam's mind. It was slow and uncomfortable, he hadn't actually been joking. A mind in the self-pity stage of a hangover wasn't a particularly nice place to be, and tended to be distinctly unhelpful. However, in this case it might be useful... any consciousness that wasn't feeling sorry for itself was immediately suspect. Sneaking up on the place where he'd found the discrepancy last time, Cable noted with satisfaction that this part certainly wasn't feeling any pain.
For several minutes he just sat and watched it. The 'look' of it didn't change much, it appeared to be asleep. But whatever it was, it certainly wasn't Sam. Impossible to put into words, he couldn't have explained it to a person who was restricted to five senses. He could say it was a different colour, or had a different texture, or even that it smelled different (not that he really knew what Sam smelled like that well) but none of those descriptions would have been right. It was just... different.
And he'd never really seen anything like it. It sat quietly in its own corner of the mind, no longer interfering in any way with Sam. There was no sense of malignancy, hunger or repression of Sam's defences. It was simply there. He resented that, and disliked it immediately. It reminded him far too much of having Stryfe lurking in the back of his mind, waiting. Lurking was definitely the right word.
So what exactly are you? He considered it a few moments more. He wasn't about to let it bite him again, a more subtle application of his powers might be in order. It's been a while since I did anything like this, Sam. I hope you appreciate it. He worked slowly, painstakingly checking and rechecking every part of the trap. When triggered, it would neatly ensnare the presence and leave it firmly in Cable's control. And with minimal effort and time, could be used to extinguish it if it became necessary.
#Sam?#
Yes?
#There is something here, and I don't know what it is. I've got it trapped and I'm going to find out in a minute, but first I'm going to get rid of what's been making you so confused.#
Okay. Sam's thoughts hovered nervously as Cable kept one mental finger on the trap's trigger and searched for disturbances that were a part of Sam's mind.
It didn't take long to find them. A memory block, some rechanneling and confusions... and Cable's blood ran cold. Very little effort had been made to hide them, but they were so well-crafted they were almost beautiful in a vicious way. That alone would have been a clue to their maker, even if they hadn't all but spelt out his name in neon letters by the energy signature that hadn't been disguised at all. Someone who didn't know him might have assumed it belonged to Cable himself, but he knew he didn't have that amount of skill and didn't waste power making sure that his constructs would be impressive to any telepath who might wander by.
That makes another link to Stryfe. Flonq it all, I can't deal with him now... But Stryfe obviously wanted to be dealt with. The changes he'd made just sat there smugly in plain sight, challenging him to do something about it. Have it your way. There was an advantage to having similar teaching and knowing each other as they did. He could pull those walls down as if they'd never existed.
He tried to be gentle, but Sam's consciousness still shuddered and almost panicked as they came down. Oh, Ah remember... Cable, Ah know what's going on. The thoughts were garbled, he wasn't concentrating on sending clearly.
#Say it out loud, you're hard to understand.# Still holding the trap, he retreated shakily into his body and braced himself for the headache. He'd overreached himself, not that he'd had a choice. "What is it?"
Sam looked up, staring blankly. "He. He's... he's me. Another me, the me Ah might turn into... Cable, he's from your time. He's me from then, and he came back to change something or do something, but... but he didn't want me to know, so when Ah found out he took control and went to Stryfe." His voice shook with shocked betrayal, but not really fear. "He's working with Stryfe, they KNOW each other. He told him to make me forget, and Ah did..."
Cable blinked in horrified fascination as the presence tapped politely on the side of the trap. *But he obviously did a very bad job, didn't he? I wouldn't worry about Stryfe anymore, since I think I'm going to have to rip his pancreas out through his nose. Nathan, wouldn't it be easier if you just asked me directly? I could still talk without you taking the trap down if you'd like.*
"You're not getting mah body again!" Sam yelled angrily.
Pete frowned and started to say something, but Cable held up a cautioning hand. "That's okay, I can hear him quite well from where he is and I think he should stay there."
*I could escape if I really wanted to, you know.*
"You could try," Sam snarled back. "But Ah know what to expect this time, and you are NOT going to do that to me again."
*You were better off not knowing, you idiot! Look at you now, scared of me and Stryfe when we're the least of your problems. In fact, right now we're even on approximately the same side.*
"Of what?" Only the faint but definite similarity stopped Cable from squeezing shut the mental fingers around the invader. It may have hurt his Sam, but somewhere long before it had been his Sam.
*What's coming. Did you really think that that little tiff in the desert was going to be the end of it? Gathering the Twelve was only the beginning, Nathan. After that comes the real fighting, and someone has to do it. You're certainly not holding up your end of it. You are in a bad way, aren't you?*
#Good enough to deal with you.#
*But not someone who you didn't catch sleeping, someone who turns up without warning and takes the fight to you. Just like you weren't when I was this young.* For a moment he seemed indecisive. *That's one of the things I came back here to change.*
"Why?" Sam had calmed a little, but still looked suspicious. "Not for his sake, Ah'm guessin'..."
*For lots of peoples' sake. His, yours, mine, Stryfe's... almost everybody you know and their children, actually.* Annoyance crackled like electricity. *I lived this. I know more about it than all the rest of you combined, so maybe you should consider just letting me do what I need to do?*
"Why should we? You haven't exactly been forthcoming so far."
*I'll show you.* Memory swept out, through Sam's mind and into Cable's. Perfectly controlled, but raw-edged and fast.
Funeral after funeral rolled past. A small memorial with Domino's name on it calmly stabbed Cable through the heart as it passed, swiftly followed by a group of black-clad X-Men standing around a large stature of embracing angels. Warren turned and walked away, revealing the names of Scott Summers and Jean Grey-Summers at the bottom. Another blur and X-force buried Roberto DaCosta in the pouring rain. For a longer moment they lingered on his own funeral, just long enough to hear an utterly confusing piece of conversation between Julio and Teresa. The most frightening part was they didn't look any older.
"He's not really dead, is he. It doesn't feel like it..."
Teresa shook her head firmly. "He's dead, and he's not coming back. Ye weren't there. It's better that he be dead."
The sequence sped up, waves upon waves of grave markers of granite and wood, cairns of stone and scattering ashes. Years and years and years of death and tears and pain. At first he recognised most of the names, but as it progressed they changed into frightening new combinations. An Alexander Sinclair? A Scott Guthrie? Jean Drake, Warren Worthington the fourth, Robert Layne, Christina Guthrie, Erik Maximoff, Logan Brooks...
With an 'audible' wrench, the flow was cut off. *Now do you understand why? There's a lot more, but that's a small selection of the people who didn't need to die.*
#Not the ones that you're here for though, are they?#
There was a pause. *No. But I don't particularly feel like reliving those, and I don't really think either of you should see them. For a start, Sam's stomach isn't at its best right now.*
And whose fault is that? But Sam had lost his anger, and Cable narrowed his eyes as he realised just how skillfully the older version had manipulated the younger. Sam was shaken, and with the two of them existing so closely the other's pain and loss had gone straight to his notoriously soft heart.
*Mine, I'm sorry about that.* He didn't sound particularly sorry. *This isn't easy, you know. I'm not doing it for fun.*
Ah remember. Ah don't know how you stand it.
*What have I got to lose?*
Ah don't know. What do you have to lose?
*Nothing. My only legacy, if you'll pardon the word, is the small amount of information and necessity that I managed to pound through Stryfe's thick skull.*
Cable stayed silent, watching as Sam puzzled out his own questions. Ah don't understand how you can... after everything he's done.
*In your place, I wouldn't either. But I can try to explain.* He paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. *The first time I met Stryfe in his own time he was very small. Five or so. Which really drove home the point that the person introducing us was trying to make, that then he wasn't a sociopath or a war criminal or a killer, he was just a little boy that didn't really deserve what was going to happen to him. I was quite free to feel sorry for him, given that I was barking mad at the time.* A ghostly, self-mocking laugh echoed through two brains. *I didn't see him again for over a decade, but by then we were... much more alike than you and he are. I understood him, and that can be a dangerous thing.*
Ah still don't think Ah could. Ever.
*Which is what I like about you. Seventeen hundred years is a long time though, and quite a lot happened in them. That was what Stryfe and I had in common, you see. We both didn't much like what we'd ended up becoming or the world we occupied, and we knew exactly who was to blame.* Sam's eyes shifted to look squarely at Cable, and he restrained a shiver at the expression in them. Cold, calculating and callous, with a harsh determination that didn't belong on a face that young. *You and Apocalypse. Apocalypse be being who he is, you just by being.*
#You're still mad.#
*True.* Viashan smiled with Sam's mouth. *But mad with a plan. I know what I've become, but I'm not afraid to use it.*
#Then what's my part in all this? Let me in on your plan.#
*Your part is in killing Apocalypse and avoiding what happened to you in my time. That's all. Of course, if you fail in that second part I told Stryfe he could kill you.*
#Speak plainly! Tell me exactly what to avoid, and I'll avoid it.# He swore. "Just what I need, another set of cryptic instructions so that people can lead me around without actually telling me what to expect."
There was an angry flash, quickly restrained. But the voice was soft and nasty. *I'm not like your Askani bitches, Nathan. Compared to them I'm your guardian angel. So, you want to know what to avoid. I'll tell you, plainly, if you think you can handle it.*
#Go ahead.#
*Your current problems are caused by your own guilt and lack of self-confidence. Without that you would have noticed the foreign influence in YOUR mind long ago. You thought that Sinister would let the product of all that work escape his control? Ask Gambit, he'll tell you that it doesn't happen that way. Or perhaps you should ask your mother... she's probably one of the few people that can help you.*
Cable swallowed hard. Something in his mind? His hands tightened as he fought back a shudder of revulsion. From the way the other Sam was talking it couldn't be Stryfe, it wouldn't be like it was before... #What... details. Now.#
*Malice.* He waited for a moment for them to realise that that was a name, not an emotion, then continued. *Your messiah complex forbids you from accepting the only true part of Askani philosophy, that sometimes things just go wrong. After beating yourself up all this time and not letting the damage heal your reserves are shot, your shields are pathetic, and you're maybe a month away from becoming a Marauder. The basis is already there, all she needs is Sinister to give the word. He won't yet, because it might damage you a bit, but if he did there's no way you could stop it. You need help, but you're too proud to ask for it.*
#What happened in your timeline?# Suddenly he wasn't really sure if he wanted answers, but knew even more that he needed them.
*You didn't ask for help, and you never found out why you needed it. Malice took over your body, and wiped everything of you out. She knew she couldn't just take over your mind, you'd fight her off, so she drained all your willpower by guilt and grief first then killed you. After that she had a lot of fun. Damn near killed me, killed Phoenix, killed Stryfe, tortured Wolverine to death... that took some doing, believe me. The list goes on for a while...*
#I don't want to hear it.#
*I'm sure you don't. We're on the same side here, because neither of us want this to happen or Apocalypse to live to see the real turn of the millenium. But if you can't keep up, I won't slow down for you. And if you let that happen again, I will kill you.*
The strange new (old?) Sam was right, understanding someone was dangerous. Cable understood him now, he had come far too close to being a person like that himself. Cut off from his humanity where nothing mattered but the mission, to succeed at any cost. To believe that that was all that mattered. He'd had Domino and the Pack to pull him out of that, enough for him to get a grip on life again. Apparently Sam hadn't been so lucky. #If it does happen, I'll want you to.#
*Shall we all agree to help each other, then? For now at least. My knowledge can make your mission work, but it will be rather difficult for me to manage if you interfere.* A touch of too-cynical humour floated through. *We don't have to like it, but it makes sense.*
Why would you not like it? Ah would have thought this would be what Ah wanted.
*I watched everyone here die, Sam. Years ago. It's like being in a haunted house, all these ghosts walking around and smiling and not realising that for me they're dead. Can you imagine liking that?*
No.
#I don't like it, and I don't trust you. People change.#
*Yes, we do. But I think you can understand why I'm here, Nathan.* His voice became pained and wistful, yet somehow more like the Sam of the time. *You came back here to save your wife and your family... and so did I.*
#It didn't drive me to dealing with Stryfe.#
*And you can't comprehend what it's like to be with one person, one love, for nearly two thousand years. You can't imagine what it's like to lose that person, and yet you'll still deal with Stryfe if you have to. At least you had better, because we're going to need him.*
#No.#
*You can't find any common ground? He hates Apocalypse as much as we do, maybe more. He was used, just like you have been. That makes him useful. He will cooperate, I can promise that. He has as much to gain as we have, and he'll do what I tell him.*
# I can't...# He could see the logic, but so close after the reminder of Aliya's death logic wasn't getting much airtime.
*Here's a trick I used.... Apocalypse turned Stryfe into what he is. Who do you shoot, the mad dog or the one who beat it into that state?*
#Both of them.#
*But it's so much more poetic and fair to turn the dog back on them first. Also... who else do you know who has actually survived a possession attempt from Apocalypse? Who else do you know who understands the Timewalker as well, has been telepathically linked to him before, speaks his language, can read heiroglyphics easier than English and has been trained every telepathic dicipline from his time to ours? I know that it's a low I'm willing to sink to.*
#Is there a low that you won't sink to?#
*... Not really.*
#I'm starting to think that I don't have any either.# He sighed. #I'm not making any promises. And there are going to be a lot more questions. But at least for now, we seem to be on the same side.#
There was a feeling of assent, like a nod. *I can keep Stryfe under control. Not his tongue, maybe, but the important actions. Unlike you, he knows how much he needs me.* Then the mental contact retreated, and the other Sam slid back into his impression of an unobtrusive part of the subconscious.
"Ah don't think he wants to talk anymore." Sam tilted his head to one side and looked thoughtful. "Ah don't think Ah do, either. If you don't mind, Ah'd like to just lie here for a while and try to work it out until my hangover goes away."
"Okay. But if he comes out again, tell me."
"Yeah." Sam curled up on the bed and winced. "Mind turning the light off as you go?"
Cable frowned but left and dragged a confused and wildly curious Pete Wisdom with him. Finding out that there was another version of you living in your head... well, a little time to sort it out was more than reasonable. In the meantime, he had to explain what was going on to Pete and Domino before Pete followed up on those rather grisly threats he was making.
* * *
Domino was the only one still awake when Sam felt well enough to hunt out some food. She was sitting quietly in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, as if she'd been waiting for him.
"Which one are you?" she asked calmly.
"Th' normal one. His accent is different if you need to tell."
"Makes sense." She watched him for another few minutes, still waiting for something.
Sam shifted. Having her look at him like that was making him feel even more uncomfortable. It was a small twinge in his side that gave him a clue as to what she might want, and he turned to face her again. "Do... you want to talk to him?"
"If you wouldn't mind. I just have one question I need to ask."
"Ah don't mind." He 'reached' inside himself, searching blindly for the part which wasn't him. Viashan? Domino wants to ask you a question.
Viashan stirred, then slid towards the forefront of his mind. *Then I should answer it, shouldn't I? Don't worry, little one, I'll give you right back.* Sam stepped back, and Viashan turned to Domino. "Yes?"
She looked at him hard, as if memorizing every difference in posture and mannerism. She probably was. Then she put her coffee down and met his eyes directly. It was an important question. "You saved my life, didn't you?"
"It was both of us. I wasn't completely awake, the partitions I kept between us were breaking down. But I did know what I was doing when I helped him."
"Why? You nearly got killed."
Viashan reached out to stroke her cheek very gently. "Because I love you. We love you. We just don't mention it very often, because affection makes you uncomfortable. Most people around here would risk more than a few rocks for you."
Domino frowned, for once in her life at a loss for words. This old, cold man calmly telling her that he loved her... and speaking for the sweet, brave teenager she'd first reluctantly adopted as well.
"You really should pay more attention to that, Domino. You're not as self-contained and independent as you think. Things started going to hell right after you died, and most of us would have walked through Hell to get you back."
"I... in your timeline, I died there."
"Yes."
"And that was when things started going wrong?"
"Yes."
"Why? I'm no Xavier, I'm not that powerful. I get referred to as a sidekick." She shook her head and attempted a smile.
"But you were important to us. After you and Jimmy died, X-Force barely held together. We certainly didn't do anything worth mentioning, although I do seem to remember that we picked a lot of fights and several of us drank too much. You see, we didn't just lose you two. After you died, Cable stopped fighting. He went down without a whimper, and that was the last straw." He tugged her gently to her feet, and she obeyed without thinking about it. "You broke his heart."
"Good," she said viciously, then burst into tears. For some reason it didn't seem strange to find arms around her, cradling her gently as if she might turn into smoke and float away. It felt very, very good instead.
After a few minutes she could feel him change. A tiny tightening maybe, but she knew and pulled her head back off his shoulder to look into the eyes of her own Sam Guthrie.
"He's gone again."
"I know." She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, stepping back a little. Hugs were nice, but she couldn't cry on her Sam. She was supposed to be the one taking care of him, not the other way around.
But he didn't seem to agree. "You don't have to pretend that it's all okay, you know. Dom, Ah watched you hanging on by your fingernails when Ah first came back, Ah'm not blind now. And Ah'm not young enough to believe that it doesn't get to you."
Domino sighed. "When did you get so old?"
"Ah don't know. When Ah got the crap kicked out of me on the floor of the OZT base, maybe. Or when Ah found out that mah girlfriend was cheating on me with mah best friend, or when some uptight doctor turned me into an errand-boy because all the mutant powers in the world don't necessarily make you useful. Or maybe it was all of those things, and Ah just grew up."
"Pity. You were cute as a dumb-arse kid."
Sam laughed, and hugged her again whether she liked it or not. "Ah'm still cute now. Just taller."
"And not so modest." But she gave in and wrapped her arms around his waist for a quick squeeze. "Thanks for letting me talk to the, uh, other you."
"Anytime you need it."
She nodded and pulled away, tipping the last of her cold coffee into the sink. "Okay. But enough of the touchy stuff, it's late and I'm going to bed."
"Sleep well."
"See you in the morning. Both of you, I suppose."
"Ah don't think he's going anywhere."
Inside his mind a sleepy voice murmured in amusement. *You're not that lucky.*