Summer Silence
by kaleko
Disclaimer: Domino and Cable belong to Marvel. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and I'm making no money off of it. This story is rated PG-13 for language. Please contact me before posting this anywhere unless I have given you blanket approval previously. No MSTing please. Comments and criticism are welcome, flames will be deleted on sight.
I want to say thanks to Threnody for giving me a title, and thanks to Thren, Lynxie and Timesprite for letting me bug them and bounce stuff off them. kymscrazy, Mys_Teri, Pook and Jo, thanks for lending a hand as well. :)
This one's for you, Alicia, you unrepentant pouncing wench, you. ;)
"The quiet ticktock of the clock, counting the seconds, counting the minutes, all rushing away, rushing away...
"The wind against the window, whispering quietly, pulling away, make it stay, make it stay...
"Old time is flying, new one is coming, don't fall away, don't fall away. Keep your eyes open, keep your mind open, fear not today. Fear not today. Tomorrow is knowledge, tomorrow is new, horizons untravelled, just waiting for you."
*THWUMP*
"Gack!"
She sniffled quietly as the song drifted from her mind, the dream running away, tucking itself into the layers of night.
Eyes looked upward to the ceiling, seeing first only the slowly spinning ceiling fan. It moved slowly in it's rotation, spinning lazily as if it, too, had succumb to the sleepy atmosphere of the summer's night. She grumbled, feeling herself pinned to the soft mattress and something very uncomfortable underneath her, poking her back.
"Nate."
There was no response from the large, warm entity by her side, and she fidgeted, nudging her body against the heap. #Hey. I'm pinned here.#
"Hrmph?"
She felt the mass shift slightly, but it didn't move.
"Unacceptable," she grumbled, and slowly pondered what to do. It was quite clear to her from the very beginning that the man-bear that lay next to her slept like a dead rock. #A very big, dead rock...# she added, to which she got a soft grunt in reply. He had shifted yet again, but this time the huge arm that had been laying across her stomach had now moved up to rest on her chest.
#HEY!# she mentally shouted, pressing cold feet again the nearest flesh she could find. She smirked as the loud curse filled her ears and the arm was lifted from her.
"FLONQ!"
"Don't you curse at me, you had me pinned! And--" She heard the soft clicking of the lamp switch being turned, and quickly put her cold feet against his back. "Don't you dare turn that light on! You know how much that bugs me."
"I can't *see*."
"You don't need to see. Shut up and go back to sleep. And watch that arm next time, it's heavy!" Domino rolled over, finding a book, pages now bent and crinkled, where she had been.
"Fell asleep reading again?"
There was a quiet nod from her, but she knew he didn't need one. It was more of a statement than a question. She placed the book, pages flattened out once more, onto the nightstand.
He had promptly turned over and gone back to sleep and was probably far away in dreamland, now. She sighed a bit, flopping upper body to bed, and pulling the sheets up around her neck.
"What?"
Out of the darkness, his voice broke the silence. Well, it wasn't really silence, she mused. She could hear the ceiling fan humming softly overhead. She'd have to bug him, yet again, to fix it in the morning. It was much too loud.
Almost like an incessant wheezing, a quiet breath in the night. It went on repeatedly, barely there, and sometimes slipping into her dreams. She could see him, then, wheezing, trying to breath, trying not to leave the world behind.
He was clawing desperately at her, hands gripping tightly into her flesh, streaking blood onto her clothes. He stank of fear, his bloody and sweaty business shirt sticking to his chest.
"Hey." She looked up, seeing his form in the darkness. He was sitting up, hand touching her shoulder, watching her with concern. "It's okay."
"Oh, fuck, it's not!"
Her scream nearly shattered the sound of the ceiling fan, the rustling of the sheets as she threw them off her and stomped towards the bathroom. The door slammed.
He waited in the silence, leaning against the backboard. He made no communication with her, neither telepathically or verbally. The sounds of her wretches were faint over the sound of the shower.
Nearly two hours later, the bathroom door opened and she stood there naked, hair dripping, leaning against the door frame. The light from the bathroom shined on her back, made her shadow on the floor, form as perfect as the real thing. She stared down at that shadow for a long time, just watching it.
He pretended not to watch her.
She finally flicked the light off, going back over to the bed and sitting down in front of him.
"He had two kids, Nate."
"I know."
"They had purple eyes."
"I know."
"Mutants."
To that he just nodded, leaning over and pulling her towards him.
"He didn't have to die."
"Perhaps--" He made a face, thinking better of what he was about to say. He was always tongue-tied when it came to these matters. "It may make them stronger in the end. We can't change what has happened. What--"
"Is is." She sighed softly as a drop of water trickled from a lock of hair, tickling down her back. "I could usually not care less. Fuck, if you've seen one dead body, you've seen them all, right?" She sighed. "They didn't just shoot them. They shot kids. Maybe it'd be better if they hadn't--" She stopped short.
"They went in for him and two others. Parents of mutants, working as teachers-- such a fucking travesty, right? Where the fuck was school security, huh? Having a fucking tea party while two idiots walked into a school and just started shooting?"
Domino scowled at herself, remembering the events of the day. She had been having a quiet afternoon, sipping a coffee on a bench in the city, waiting for the bus to come. She could have always driven, but there was no place to park where she was going.
It was a place she loved to go-- an antique shop not too far from the museum. They always carried some old book or keepsake box... a box for herself, a book for him.
This particular day, for some reason she had decided to skip two buses and just watch the day pass for a while. It was a beautiful day and she had it all to herself. She was in no rush.
She didn't notice the three kids walk past her and towards the school across the street. She didn't even look up from her book. They didn't look threatening.
She'd heard the gunshots from inside and dropped book and coffee. The light further down the street turned red-- no cars hindered her from getting to the other curb. Remembering every step, letting it play back in slow motion for him to see, almost hearing the *thudthudthudthud* of her own shoes as they hit the pavement.
The screams of the children inside, the panicked people, some bloody, some limping, some carrying a bloody child, all running past her. The fire alarm dinged in her ears as people pushed past her, trying to get out.
She had seen him, carrying two children with him as he tumbled down the stairs. She couldn't tell whether he was holding them up or they were holding him up.
His eyes lit up at her as if she were an angel and he reached for her. Clawing at her arms as he slid to the floor, his breath ragged, eyes unfocused, he uttered two words only: "My girls."
"My girls," she repeated, passing him the bloody picture of the purple-eyed children.
Nate looked it over in the darkness, barely able to make out the two forms in the picture.
"He had it in his hand when he collapsed to the floor."
"Did you find them?"
She nodded quietly. "The gunmen shot themselves. One girl hidden in a bathroom stall with a bunch of others and a teacher. The other--" She looked to him, purple eyes shining in the darkness. She heaved back a sob, her normal cool composure failing.
"It's late." She stood on the bed, pulling the cord to the ceiling fan. It slowly came to a halt, it's humming ceasing. She got back down, crawling under the covers and putting her wet head to her pillow.
Nate set down the picture on the nightstand then turning to watch her in the darkness.
Even with her eyes closed, she could see the image of the two girls. A red streak ran across one of their faces-- the bloody fingerprint of their now dead father.
Burying her face into the pillows, she listened. The night was silent.
*end*