Just Lucky I Guess: Part 55c

by DuAnn Cowart

 

 


Nathan Summers blinked, as his vision slowly acclimated to the light of his hospital room. 'Oh, flonq, I feel like the third day of a two day pass. . . ' A moment later he heard a soft, accented voice beside him as a strong arm gently helped him sit up. He blinked again.

A round dark face was smiling at him, murmuring in the same comforting tones he'd heard from so very many healers over the years. "There, there, Mr. Summers. Do you feel well enough to try to sit up?"

Nathan coughed, then nodded, noting the shiver of pain that still wracked his chest when he moved. "We're. . . at. . . Pete's station?" He whispered through cracked lips, trying to think through the grinding pain in his skull. He was sore, beaten and hurting all over, but he could think and he was alive.

Alive. Alive, and whole, and in his right mind, more or less. Though he could still feel the brown stains of Tyler's taint, he was for the most part free.

The nurse made a small sound, breaking him out of his reverie. "Well, I don't know who Pete is, but yes, we're at the Station. Mr. Jardine gave us all instructions to give you the best care possible, and that's just what we're going to do."

Nathan shifted, breathing heavily. "How's. . . Dom?" He muttered, hoarse words rasping through an overly dry throat, monstrous images flickering through his thoughts. Dom. If he was going through this much pain, then she- he frantically delved inside his mind, probing the broken remnant of their link. It flickered slightly, filling his mind with pain, but there was no hint of the bond he'd shared with his partner. None at all. He swallowed, then broke into a hacking cough. When he could again speak, he muttered "She. . . ok? Everybody. . .else? OK?"

The nurse answered, not unkindly, "Your friends are being taken care of, don't you fret. Let's just think about getting you dressed and out of here, OK?" Despite the doctor's assurances she eyed his arm askance. They'd all seen a lot of strange things working in the Station, but living metal about took the prize. The doctor had cleared him, though, and that was good enough for her.

Her patient didn't respond.

*************

Domino shook her head and turned away from the hospital door. All of her earlier thoughts of staying to supervise Jardine's interrogations of the captured scientists vanished like vapor under the sun. There'd be time later to come back and analyze the data- right now, all she wanted to do was get as far away from this place as possible. She couldn't verbalize, couldn't explain even to herself why she needed to leave so badly but every cell in her body burned with the need to run, to flee, to get the hell away.

Domino shook her head, disgusted with herself. Hide from her memories, hide from herself. To have this damn thing done and over with, and to go on with what was left of her life.

She knew Nate felt the same- during all the years they'd been together, he'd hated hospitals almost as much as she had, choosing instead to take care of his own wounds whenever they could, only seeking professional medical care when it was absolutely necessary. She knew he wouldn't begrudge her this. They'd bandage him up, and she'd take him home, and that would be the end of it. This whole miserable experience would be over.

Right.

She touched her face, uncharacteristically uncertain. No, she wouldn't run away forever. Whatever else she was, she wasn't a coward. She'd be back to deal with this- and soon- but for now. . . She snorted, disgusted, then turned again to the doctors, hating herself for every word she spoke. "I've seen enough. I appreciate you patching us up, but the sooner you can let us go, the sooner we'll be out of your way."

"We've been over this," Lowell sighed. "Believe me, you're not the first impatient patient we've had at this facility. I've spoken with my fellow doctors," she inclined her head at the shorter man, who nodded, "and Mr. Jardine, and he's agreed that you're to be released as soon as possible. Are you happy now?"

"I doubt it," A deep, raspy voice sounded behind them, and the others turned almost in unison to see Nathan, staggering but upright, silver hand grasping the doorframe for balance. He stared at his partner. "She rarely is." His tone was light, but the words masked a deeper emotion, and the broken part of him that thought it was still tied to her shivered.

He ventured a weak smile, then studied his feet. Domino felt the shattered bond cry out at his presence, straining to touch, never quite reaching him. Her mind throbbed a sickly golden color, washes of thoughts with broken sapphire remnants of their link. She doubled over slightly, turning away, raising the back of her hand to her mouth to hold in the choked cry that seemed to rise of its own accord.

Lowell rushed to her side, but she brushed the other woman off, biting her lip and standing upright. "I'm fine," she snarled, jerking her arm away from Lowell's sure grasp. "Leave me the hell alone." The other woman, nonplussed, just raised an eyebrow and complied.

Wixtrum harumphed. He frequently had to remind himself that despite the fronts they put up to the contrary the agents of the caliber that haunted these halls were only human. Wixtrum slowly turned down the hall, and Lowell caught his cue and moved away in order to give their patients a modicum of privacy. The patients in question didn't even notice they were gone.

"Dom," Nathan whispered past the lump in his blistered throat. "You. . . look like shit."

Sick at heart as she was, she had to laugh. "You too, Nate," she told him softly, forcing herself to look up from the floor. One hand rose to unconsciously cradle her chin, a thin forefinger pressed tight against her lips. He met her gaze, a world of loss in his eyes. Summoning his strength, he stepped away from the door frame to extend an unsteady hand to her. She tucked her head to her chest, hugging herself, then looked up, forcing herself to meet his mismatched gaze.

Time slowed to nothingness. The hospital, the doctors, the hallway all faded into a dull background blur, and the entire world narrowed to just the two of them- the man, the woman, two battered figures standing so close together, so far away. Nathan stood still, arm stretched out towards her, a silver bridge between two broken worlds.

"Take my hand," he whispered hoarsely, and the strength in the words was almost enough to banish the demons loosed within her and fill the holes in her soul.

Almost.

She closed her eyes, and the razor sharp slivers within her trembled in the presence of hope. Here it was. The chance, the opportunity to forget what had happened, to join with Nathan again so together they could heal.

"Take it," he whispered, rough voice pitched for her ears alone. "Dom, I know what you went through, what. . . he . . .did. I *know*," he murmured, and indeed he did, for the clone of his son had forced him to experience the horror alongside her, forced them both to believe despite their knowledge to the contrary that Nathan had raped and taunted and violated his partner until the trust and intimacy forged over two decades of partnership were nothing more than a tarnished joke.

Violet eyes narrowed, and monstrous visions sprang unbidden through her thoughts, mocking her with warped nightmare images of what Tyler had done. She swallowed tightly, biting back the thoughts, slamming a lid on the memories knowing all the while that the seal wouldn't hold for long.

She looked up, and noticed that she had taken a few inadvertent steps away from him. "Don't," she looked up at him blindly, holding up a warning hand. "Nate, don't, please God, don't even say it," she choked, turning away. "Not here, not now."

"Dom, I," His own voice broke, and broad shoulders stiffened at memories of his own. "You know that wasn't me. You know I'd never-"

"I said *don't*, Nate!" she snarled, tears streaming down her face She didn't even noticing how her fingers dug into her upper arms, adding bruises to already colored flesh. "Shut the fuck up! We'll talk about this later, all right?" The heat in her voice dissipated, and when she spoke again she sounded very tired and very, very old. "Shit. Let's forget about it, ok? This isn't the time, or the place." She couldn't meet his eyes.

He was silent a moment, and drew deep inside himself for a long moment before shuddering once, then raising his chin. "You're right," he agreed softly, his hand dropping to his side. "I'm sorry. We'll talk about this later."

Somehow the words sounded hollow to them both.

A soft patter on the hard floor sounded behind them and Domino, senses raw from Nathan's presence, pivoted sharply. "Betsy!" She cried, glad for the diversion. Pushing a shock of dark hair to the side, she scanned her teammate's form, asking "How are you?"

Elisabeth Braddock, now clad in a blue jumpsuit similiar to the one worn by Domino, moved slowly down the hall. Her natural grace only slightly impaired by her injuries. "Domino, Nathan," she greeted them as easily as if they were sharing the kitchen at home. "You both look. . . well." She smiled dryly, the arch expression belying her words.

"Glad you could make it, Betts." Domino looked at her, and the unspoken plea in her eyes spoke volumes. 'Don't say anything about what we found,' Domino thought as loudly as she could, fighting past the confusion in her thoughts, using the techniques Nathan had taught her to focus the single thought towards the other woman, praying she understood.

She did. Psylocke just nodded slowly, reading the unspoken question in her teammate's eyes, battered telepathy picking up on the frustration and fear shading the message. Turning away, she managed a wan smile. "I've been examined and cleared, and other than a residual headache, I'm fine." She raised a hand to rub her temple. "If you wouldn't mind very much, I'd like to leave, please."

"Just what I wanted to hear." Domino stared at her another moment longer, something akin to gratitude in her eyes before she tilted her head, waving a hand in the air curtly to get the doctors' attention.

The two physicans returned, nodding at Betsy. "Ms. Braddock?" Lowell inquired. "I've spoken with Dr. Kerr. She'd informed me that you are quite adamant in your desire to depart."

"Indeed," Betsy inclined her head. "Doctors, we appreciate your work. We'll recommend you to all our friends, but I'm afraid now's the time we say goodbye."

Lowell paused a moment, but Wixtrum snorted. "Ah, sod it," he scratched a bushy eyebrow. "If the lot of you want to be bloody idiots and go off against our advice, there's really nothing we can do but watch you go. Just promise me," he glared at all three of them. "When you get to wherever it is you're going that you will get proper medical attention. Patching you up won't do much good if you knock our stitches out, and fixing your bodies won't do a damn bit of good if you won't get that psionic damage seen about."

Nathan opened his mouth to protest, but Betsy beat him to it. "We will," she promised smoothly. "And we thank you for all you've done, but now, if you don't mind, we'd like to make our departure. Our friends are waiting on us."

"Be that bloody way, then," Wixtrum snorted, thrusting his clipboard in Lowell's hands. "Doctor, you do the paperwork. I have *patients* to see."

With a slight shrug, Domino waved goodbye, then turned to walk down the long hallway.

**********

Logan and Ororo sat silently side by side for several long moments. Logan watched the clock, counting each individual tick, feeling his frustration rising to an almost tangible level.

Betsy. When he'd ran out of the plane to find her unconscious on the rocky soil outside Tyler's fortress, he'd felt something he'd not experienced in quite some time-true heart-clenching fear.

His chosen lifestyle had more than accustomed him to danger, for only fools didn't fear at all, and whatever else the man called Logan was, he wasn't a fool. Still, though, the danger of battle, the feral thrill and delight of the hunt was one thing. He, his teammates, the people they fought- they were all accepting the risk. They were equals, so to speak, and whatever happened in the course of that behavior happened. They were fighting a war, and people got hurt in wars. You lost friends, lost teammates, you mourned them, you moved on. It happened.

Except that when he saw Betsy lying prone on that dusty soil he didn't see a felled teammate, his friend of so many years. Instead, he saw the woman he'd slept next to the night before, and had felt fierce primal rage and an overwhelming need to protect the woman who'd lain beside him.

Even now, the burning animal need was there, barely held in check, and it scared the hell out of him. Emotions like that were a liability in his fight. He'd known love before, and lost it, and he'd never forget the aching chasm in his soul where that love once lay. He'd felt the rage of the animal who'd lost its mate. He'd borne the loss before, and it had scarred him far worse than a lifetime's battles ever had. He didn't know if he would ever be able to risk that kind of loss again.

And this was precisely why these burgeoning feelings were so damn unnerving, especially when the source of those emotions lay behind a thick steel hospital door.

He blinked, shaking himself out of his reverie. "Damn, I hate this." His voice was low, growling the words.

Ororo nodded, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "I know you do. This is not easy for any of us."

Logan shook his head, a tight, controlled motion full of predatory grace. "Ah, it'll be all right, darlin'. How about you?" He looked up at his long time teammate speculatively. "Are *you* all right? I know that storm back there musta took a lot out of ya. . ."

She smiled gratefully. "I am fine, Logan, if a bit tired. I *am*, however, beginning to worry about Kitty and . . . Mr. Wisdom. They said that they would supervise the transfer of our captives and then meet us here, and that was some time ago."

Logan looked at her, then despite his trepidation full lips split in a wide grin. "You must have patience, my friend," He parrotted her words back to her, and despite herself she had to laugh.

Before she could respond, he tilted his head, then turned away from her towards the door to the examining room, trailing the scuffling sounds heard therein. Ororo, eyes widening slightly, followed his gaze.

Seconds later, Domino pushed through the swinging doors of the waiting room, Betsy and Cable trailing right behind her. All three were bruised and weary, but despite their bandages all three were walking of their own volition.

"Nathan! Are you all right?" Ororo's lovely voice was sharper, higher than usual, and she rushed over to Cable.

Nate waved one weary hand. The other was bandaged to his chest, along with the broken arm. "I'm fine, 'Ro, don't worry about it." Glancing at Logan, Cable's weathered brow furrowed. "Anyone seen the Brit and Kitty?"

Logan didn't answer, just stared at Betsy, a small, delighted grin on his face. He moved slowly to her, and she met his stare with an unreadable expression of her own. Cable grunted and looked away, allowing them what little privacy he could at a time like this. Domino didn't even notice.

"I have not," Ororo murmured. "But I trust they will be along shortly. I am just so very delighted you are well." She smiled brilliantly, and for the first time Domino saw the dark shadows underneath leonine aqua eyes. "I was quite worried about you." She paused, then looked up at the other two women. "About you all."

The dark haired woman shook her head wryly, lips curving in a humorless smile. "I'm fine, Windrider, thanks for asking. Betsy-" She nodded at the other woman, who had pulled apart a bit from the others and was speaking to Logan in hushed tones. "She's fine, too."

"I'm fine, you're fine, we're all fine," Cable grated, wincing as a pain shot through his body and his mind. "So can we please get the flonq out of here?"

"Strange as it sounds, Cable's right," Logan grunted, gently guiding Betsy to a seat. "What say we let whassherhead over there," he motioned at the receptionist, who was blatently pretending not to notice them, "Get on the horn and get Jardine t' get Kitty and Pete's ass over here so we can get th' hell out of Dodge."

"Sounds good to me."

*******

In another wing of the facility, Pete Wisdom and Kitty Pryde sat in a well-appointed office, leaning close to each other, murmuring quietly.

"We supervised the transfer ourselves, Pete, counted off each ratty little head." Kitty pulled away to lounged back in her chair, crossing her legs. "Everything's taken care of. They're all here."

Pete snorted. "Yeah, it's in 'official' hands now. As long as the sheep-buggerin' bastards are put away, I don't care who has 'em."

Chestnut eyes narrowed. "I hope they'll do a lot more than just put them away," Kitty muttered, hot temper beginning to flare as she recalled what she'd read about some of the particular criminals they'd captured. "Pete, some of the experiments they're doing are on a par with Sinister's worst-"

Pete drew in a deep breath. "Don't worry. By the time Jardine's boys are done mindwipin' 'em, they'll need instruction sheets to wipe their own arses."

Kitty nodded, lapsing into silence, thinking of the mission's cost, the bruises and scars both seen and unseen. Cable and Betsy had lapsed in and out of consciousness the entire trip back, and Domino- the bleakness in the other woman's gaze had made her shiver.

She'd seen that look before. The same haunted look had appeared in the eyes of Rachel Summers when she'd first come from the future. She'd seen that expression in the faces of Holocaust survivors as they stared at the Memorial, lost in memories of that monstrous hell. She'd seen the shadows in the eyes of the few Morlocks who had escaped the Massacre.

It was the aftermath of evil, pure and simple, and it left scars that would never fully heal.

'And for a former mercenary like Domino who's seen and done it all- plus two of the strongest psis on Earth-' Kitty thought angrily, thinking of what little she'd been able to glean about what had happened. 'What that bastard must have done-'

Beside her, Pete nodded, meeting her brown eyes with his own dusty sapphire gaze. They didn't speak, only looked at each other, both knowing in their hearts what had been done that day.

A muffled sound interrupted Kitty's thoughts, and she snapped back to attention. The door opened, and Edward Jardine, MI5 Head of Criminal Intelligence, walked into his office, a thick sheath of papers in hand.

"Hello, children," the older man beamed, leaning against the huge mahogany desk facing their chairs. Both just turned and looked at him, identical expressions of annoyance. "No, don't get up." Jardine took his seat, steepling his fingers under his chin.

Pete leaned back in his brown leather chair, drawing deeply from his everpresent cigarette. "Piss off, Jardine," he grumbled. "Why the hell are you making us wait in here while our mates are in the hospital? Pryde's gettin' worried about them." Kitty just looked at him, then wrinkled her nose and waved her hand before her face to swirl away the smoke.

Jardine just shook his head. "Patience, patience, Peter. My people are helping them to your plane right now. You'll join them soon enough."

Kitty cut him a sharp glance, but said nothing. Jardine just quirked a smile but continued scanning his notes. After a few moments silence, he looked up, and his voice was surprisingly deep for so slight a man. "Saggus. Debevec. Martin. Paris. Hart. This is a laundry list of some of the most wanted monsters on the planet. Consider me duly impressed." He shuffled the papers, shaking his head slightly. "These bastards- collectively, there are probably more charges out against them than flies on a field of shit."

Pete shrugged, sharp bones moving against the dusty material of his black jacket. "It needed doin', Jardine."

Beside him, Kitty Pryde shifted in her seat. "Don't thank us. Pete was right- we're not the ones who paid the price for this little trip, Mr. Jardine. And," she glanced down at her watch. "Time's wasting, and we need to get back to Muir as soon as possible, so if you don't mind. . ." She trailed off.

Jardine coughed. "Well, since you've put it like that, I suppose we should go ahead and get started, with or without her."

Pete paused. "Who th' hell you talking about?"

"Domino, of course. I understand she's quite insistent that she and the rest of your colleagues be released from our medical facility immediately. While I have of course instructed my doctors to release them as soon as medically acceptable, I do need to speak to her before you depart."

Pete leaned forward, elbows balanced on his knees. "The hell you do. Between Pryde and me, we can tell you whatever you need to know, but Dom stays out of it for now."

Kitty blinked at the defensiveness in his tone, but Jardine just raised an eyebrow. "I'll need to talk to her about what happened, Peter, you *know* that."

Pete nodded curtly. "Yeah, and I know she's gonna want to talk to you, too, but not right now. Trust me on this."

"Peter." Jardine's voice was calm, controlled. "You know I can't-"

Pete shook his head. "Don't push me on this one, Jardine," he warned. "Not now. I promise you she'll call soon, but not bloody today. I told you before this thing started that this wasn't just any op, and we'd handle this on our terms. Deal with it."

The two men studied each other for a moment, then Jardine drew in a deep breath. "Perhaps you're right, Pete," His voice softened slightly. "Brief me on what happened, and have Domino fill in the gaps later."

And so he did.

And when he was done, Jardine stood up. Because they were professionals, there were no grunts of surprise, no strangled gasps. There was only quiet acceptance and a strange gentleness in Jardine's voice when he said "You were right, Pete. It had to be done-"

"I know, dammit. I know." The former agent's voice was surprisingly deep. "I only wish-"

Kitty reached up a hand, surprised to find a lump in her throat. "Me too," she whispered softly. "Me, too."

The phone on Jardine's desk chose that moment to ring, the shrill sound slicing the silence like a razor. Jardine picked it up.

"Jardine." He paused while the other end spoke, then made an amused grunt. "Very well. Inform them we'll meet them in a few moments." He sat the phone down in its rest, looking up at Pete and Kitty with an amused smile.

"Apparantly your colleagues are *very* ready to depart." He covered his mouth to hide the smile.

"They're not the only ones," Pete muttered, then stood, shaking Jardine's open hand. "We'll be in touch," he promised. "Dom'll call you soon."

The older man held his hand for a minute, staring at him from behind thick glasses. "She'd better," he agreed, and Wisdom heard the steel in the older man's voice. "Give her. . . my best."

Turning away from Pete, Jardine bent to kiss Kitty's hand. "A pleasure, as always, Miss Pryde. I hope one day you realize how much better you can do than this rake and come work for me."

"One day," Kitty smiled, taking refuge in the familiar banter. "If you think you can afford me, that is. . ."

"Ah, cut it out," Pete grabbed Kitty's hand, taking it in his own. Pushing his chair back, he pulled her towards the door, waving his hand in the air. "Later, Jardine."

"Goodbye, Peter," the older man murmured, then sat back down in his upholstered seat. He stared at the door a few moments, a strange, wistful expression on his face, then settled down to do the inevitable paperwork.

Several moments later his thick, reinforced walls muffled the sounds of a single plane ascending into the sky.

=====

-DuAnn

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you. Not as the world gives, give I unto you. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. -John 14:27


Part 56

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