Wenceslas

by Alicia McKenzie

 

 


DISCLAIMER: The characters, with the exception of Goren, belong to Marvel Comics and are used without permission for entertainment purposes only.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Many thanks to Lynxie for beta-reading this as I wrote it. The 'contemporary' half of the story takes place after the 12 storyline, and assumes that the Ages of Apocalypse does not/will not happen. This story is inspired by the lyrics to 'Good King Wenceslas', added at the end for your edification. ;)


Winternight Eve, 3761

Thunder rumbled in the distance, drawing Nathan Dayspring's attention away from the breach in Bigraia's walls. He glanced upwards, eyes narrowing at the sight of the greenish-black clouds in the eastern sky. That looked distinctly ominous, the leader of the Clan Chosen thought with an inward sigh of near-exasperation. He shouldn't be surprised, really. Nothing else had chosen to cooperate with them in their efforts to repair the damage from yesterday's raid by a division of Canaanite airships, so why should the weather? He hadn't even noticed the chill growing in the air; it seemed to hit him all at once, and he shook his head, irritably.

"Lorris!" he called loudly, and a little more harshly than he'd intended. The young engineer supervising the work crew looked up with a startled expression, but trotted over promptly at Nathan's beckoning gesture. "What's your estimate on how long this is going to take?" This was the last of six breaks in the wall, and the biggest.

Lorris looked confounded. "It's a complicated process, sir. I explained that to you. . ." There was nothing discourteous in his voice, only bafflement at having to repeat himself. Nathan's eyes narrowed further, and he wondered somewhat balefully if the boy knew, or cared, that he'd had six briefings, a very humiliating sparring session with Tetherblood, and a thoroughly unpleasant meeting with a Hellocoi envoy since just after dawn, when Lorris had explained to him what was involved in repairing the walls. "Since the walls are semi-organic, we have to monitor their regeneration carefully. Otherwise, we'll end up with structural flaws, and considering the level of bombardment we've been weathering lately. . ."

"I'm well aware of the fact that the Canaanites have been trying to bomb the flonq out of us for most of the rainy season, Lorris," Nathan said wearily, and managed not to smile at the sudden embarassment emanating from the younger man. "But you're quite correct about taking the time to do this properly. Carry on, and I'll get a portable shield generator up here for you. We've had no acid storm warnings from the metsat, so whatever we get tonight should just be rain."

"Yes, sir," Lorris said with an uncomfortable nod. "I'll see we work as quickly as we can." He managed a somewhat hesitant smile. "After all, it is Winternight. We all want to get finished and get home to our families."

"Of course," Nathan murmured, a little ironically. The ancient tradition of the Winternight truce hadn't been observed since the beginning of the civil wars, years ago, but others survived, very much a part of life in the Protectorate and throughout western Eurasia. This was a night you were supposed to spend with your family, in reflection and contemplation, before the celebrations tomorrow. He thought of Aliya, away on the northern border supervising recruitment, and swallowed a sigh. "Carry on," he repeated, turning to head back to the nearest lift to the skyways.

Something caught his eye as he turned, a flicker of motion in the ruins of the abandoned hydroponics farms beyond the walls, just visible through the breach. Nathan frowned, squinting at the solitary figure - a man, he thought tentatively - wandering slowly through a field of debris, a curious lack of purpose about the way he moved.

He reached out tentatively with his mind, trying to identify the wanderer. . .and almost reeled at the wild, confused thoughts that exploded against his, seemingly trying to swallow up his light probe and drag him downwards into a gut-wrenching spiral of grief and guilt, pain and. . .madness? That was what it felt like. . .

"What's the matter?"

Nathan lost contact and nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Tetherblood's voice from behind him. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that," he growled, trying to catch his breath.

Tetherblood raised an eyebrow as he moved up to stand beside him. "I shouldn't be able to sneak up on you, D," he reminded him with a faint smile. "Hope told me I'd find you out here. You know, most people can be trusted to carry out the jobs they're given without having their Clan Chief looking over their shoulder."

It was gentle ribbing, but Nathan ignored it. "I wanted to check up on Lorris," he muttered. "Damage to the walls is fairly high on my list of priorities. . ." The man was still out there, but wandering away now, in the direction of the hills. Stopping every so often, Nathan noticed, as if he was sorting through the debris looking for something useful. . .the thought hit him with a surprising amount of force, and Nathan Dayspring scowled. Scavenging? Neither the perimeter defenses nor the sentries were reacting to him; and not only did that mean he wasn't a hostile, it had to mean he was someone known. Nathan's mind made the conceptual leap from 'known' to 'Clansman' with ease, and from there to 'Clansman resorting to scavenging'. One of his people, that badly off? Not here, in Bigraia itself.

And not on Winternight. "Tetherblood," he said distractedly as he tried to sort through the scattered impressions he had received from the man's mind, to disentangle the shattered, oddly feverish images. "You don't know who that is, do you?"

There was a moment's surprised silence. When Tetherblood finally answered, he sounded almost reluctant. "Do you remember a levy from the south, near Shrida? His name was Goren, he's about my age. . ."

A face danced through Nathan's memory. . .plain and weather-worn, smiling and confident. "He was wounded at Evaya a year ago," Nathan said, remembering. "He was released from his oath of service. . .I'd assumed he'd gone back home."

"Well, he didn't," Tetherblood continued, the reluctant edge to his voice even more marked. "I got a report from one of our scouts that Goren had holed up in one of the abandoned watchposts, not long after the healers here released him. He's been up there for almost nine months, living pretty rough; I've had the scouts checking on him regularly, even tried to leave him some food and supplies once or twice, but he won't touch it." Tetherblood sighed heavily. "Silo's been up there to talk to him. . ." Silo, one of the senior lieutenants, was from Shrida, "but he won't come down, and he won't accept any offers of an escort back to his home."

"It didn't occur to you to let me know?" Nathan said testily, part of him aching at the mental image Tetherblood's words had evoked.

"You can't take personal responsibility for every man, woman and child in the Protectorate."

"That's what the oath says," Nathan said harshly.

"And you're not being realistic, D. Look, I've had people keeping track of him. He got sick back at the beginning of the rainy season and I sent a medic up there. But that's the only time he's let anyone help him. The only thing left to do is drag him down, and unless we want to push him completely over the edge. . ." Tetherblood paused, his expression very bleak. "He's not rational, Nathan. You remembered that he was wounded. . .did you remember he was part of the garrison at Evaya?"

Nathan flinched. "None of this means that the only option is to leave him up there to rot," he said, half-angrily, half-pityingly. He remembered Evaya and the battle all too clearly, himself: a garrison captured by the Canaanites, Canaanite Elite terrorizing the city. . .the futile fight to retake it and finally the desperate flight back into the Protectorate with all the survivors they'd been able to rescue. He met Tetherblood's eyes, trying to ignore the oddly measuring look he was getting. "Have a shield generator brought up here for Lorris's crew," he said, managing a tight smile. "I want to talk to one of those sentries."


December 24th, 1999

Domino set the phone down, swallowing past a throat that felt as dry as sandpaper. The morning sunlight falling across her room was bright and warm, but she couldn't feel it. Couldn't feel much of anything besides a growing, bone-deep cold.

What Charles Xavier had just told her seemed unbelievable. Willing suspension of disbelief just didn't cut it under these circumstances, even when you'd spent half your life getting sucked into the crazy world inhabited by a certain obsessive-compulsive time-traveling would-be mutant messiah. . .

Oh, Nate. . .babe, I don't think I even want to know what's going on in your head at the moment, she thought, pity and worry warring inside her, snapping at each other like dogs fighting over who got the biggest piece of her heart.

Scott Summers was dead. Nathan's father was dead. Worse than dead. . .Apocalypse's new host. Domino closed her eyes, remembering the bitter grief in Xavier's voice as he'd told her how easily Apocalypse had torn through the X-Men's ranks before vanishing for parts unknown, presumably to plan ahead for 2000.

The rest of the news was as bad. Better than half the X-Men were injured, a few seriously. Wolverine had gone completely feral again. . .in reaction to Scott's death, Xavier had said. . .and had had to be restrained. Jean Grey was apparently catatonic with grief.

And a certain member of the Twelve and Askani 'Chosen One' who'd just lost his father and had his life's work blow up in his face had vanished without a trace out of the mansion's infirmary.

That is not precisely the sort of news to make your morning, she thought, fighting back a sudden surge of terror. She forced herself to take a sip of her coffee, and THINK. Surely he wouldn't have tried to go after Apocalypse. He'd been injured, Xavier had said. He COULDN'T have been that stupid. . .

. . .could he? This was Nate they were talking about, after all. . .

A knock at her door drew her out of that particularly depressing train of thought. "Dom? Ma'am?"

"Come in, Sam," she said numbly. How was she supposed to tell him? She knew how much he'd respected Scott. . .almost idolized him. And to have Nate missing, on top of that. . .two hard blows, and nothing reassuring, no good news to make it any easier.

The door opened. "Sorry to bother you, Dom, but ah heard you on the phone. Did you get through to the. . ." Sam's expression as he saw the look on her face was so distressed she would have found it comical, under any other circumstances. Swallowing visibly, as if past a lump in his throat, he shut the door behind him and came in, sitting down beside her on the bed. "What happened?" he asked, his voice barely audible. She didn't answer him for a long moment, and his jaw tightened. "Ah can see it in your eyes. Tell me. . .please?"

"Sam, I. . ." She steeled herself, and told him, as briefly and bluntly as she could. All things considered, there wasn't any point in trying to cushion the blow.

He took it better than she'd expected. Once she'd finished relating every bit of what Xavier had told her, he looked away, blinking rapidly. "We should've been there, with them," he said very quietly. "We could have helped."

She didn't like the edge of self-reproach she heard in his voice. "Even if we'd had a way to get there quickly, Sam, we wouldn't have gotten there in time. We all knew that." What-ifs and should-haves weren't going to do them - any of them - any good. Domino took a deep breath and let it out slowly, almost in a sigh. "From what Xavier told me, the X-Men are in pretty rough shape. . ."

"Ah can't even imagine," Sam whispered. "Poor Jean. . ." He seemed to focus, his eyes narrowing as he looked back at her. "Wait a sec. . .you said Cable. . ."

"Took off? Ran for the hills?" Domino said with a tight smile. "Went and found a handy corner to lick his wounds in. . ."

"Dom. . ."

She relented at his protesting look. "I'm not being serious," she said, more quietly. "I just wish he'd come back here, if he hadn't been able to cope with being at the mansion. . ." Then again, that wouldn't have been like him, would it? she thought with a mixture of anger and aching sympathy. When he was knocked off-balance - such a mild, mild way to put it, a less-controlled part of her mind pointed out almost hysterically - he ran, as far and as fast as he could. It was only of the only times he did.

Sam's blue eyes were suddenly sick with dread. "Are they sure. . .he wouldn't've gone after Apocalypse, would he? Dom, if he did. . ."

"I'm hoping he has more sense than that," she said, trying to keep her voice neutral. But if he'd lost it, if his disappearance hadn't been just an attempt to get some space to fight for control. . .Nate didn't deal well with his own emotions, when they finally escaped the straitjacket he usually kept them in. Bad things tended to happen when he snapped. . .

"We have to find him," Sam said, straightening. "After all this. . .and if he's hurt. . .we can't just let him be out there alone, Dom."

She smiled, more weakly this time. "Easier said than done, Sam, especially if he doesn't want to be found. . ." What was she DOING? She should be on the phone already, checking up with some of their old contacts, trying to figure out where to start looking. . .not sitting here dithering like an indecisive idiot.

Sam's eyes narrowed, in an expression so reminiscent of Nate that she was taken aback for a moment. "You don't want t'find him?" he asked sharply, and then grimaced apologetically, his features setting back into a reassuringly Sam-like pattern. "Sorry, ma'am. That was out of line, and ah apologize. . ."

"True, though," she muttered. "At least partly." Maybe part of her didn't want to find him, because she was afraid of what she'd find. She'd seen him 'not-deal' with grief before. That alone was painful enough to watch. . .

But she could only imagine the rest. The self-recrimination, the sense of failure. . .this battle with Apocalypse had been what he'd been moving towards for most of his life, and, no matter what the circumstances had been, the fact remained that he'd lost. Lost before the fighting had even begun, she suspected. . .lost from the moment that he'd tried to save them from Caliban and been whisked away to Egypt. . .

She didn't want to see him beaten. She didn't want to look in his eyes and see that he'd given up, and she was so afraid that was what she'd see. . .

But that wasn't an excuse. "Go fill the others in," she said quietly. "I've got some phone calls to make."


Nathan Dayspring hesitated at the sound of the thunder, and then continued shoving ration bars and medical supplies into his pack, shaking his head with a rueful smile. I must be out of my mind, he thought, glancing over at where rain hammered against the plasglass of the window. Jen would probably kill me if she had any idea what I was planning to do. Maybe it was a little reckless, but it felt right. . .

"You are NOT doing this," Hope said forcefully from the doorway, her arms folded across her chest and a furious look on her fine-boned face. "Putting aside what a flonqing insane idea it is in the first place to be headed up to that watchpost in this weather, you have ceremonies to conduct tomorrow! Or did you forget that, Clan Chief?"

Nathan's smile grew a little at the sardonic emphasis she put on his title. "You'll fill in for me if I'm not back by then, won't you?" he asked, giving his sister-in-law an innocent look and biting back a chuckle as she flushed and suggested in a low snarl that he do something anatomically impossible. "Be nice, Hope."

"I'm not required to coddle my insanely stubborn brother-in-law!" she snapped. "This is. . .so totally ridiculous I don't even know what to say, Nathan! I appreciate that you have a sense of responsibility to this man. . ."

"He served the Clan," Nathan said, more seriously, as he fastened the pack and hefted it experimentally. Not too heavy. . .it was quite a distance to the watchpost Goren had settled in, over some very rough terrain, and he didn't want to exhaust himself getting there. "He was hurt, fulfilling his oath. He deserves our help, Hope. Maybe if it comes from me, he'll accept it. . ."

"What makes you think that?" she demanded, her dark eyes flashing forbiddingly. "Maybe he will. Maybe he won't. What if you end up wasting your time. . .or worse, get hurt on the way up there or coming back down?"

"It's Winternight," he said, picking up his cloak and putting it on. She seemed unsatisfied with the response, so he elaborated. "When Tetherblood and I lived with the Isle Kin, they used to say that this was a night to help those in need. . ."

"Well, there's a patronizing attitude. . ."

"If you're doing it in a patronizing way," he said. "It can end up that way, yes. But I'm not, Hope, and I would have thought you'd know me better than that by now." She didn't so much as blink at the mild rebuke and he continued, figuring he was probably wasting his time but feeling somehow compelled to explain himself, nevertheless. "Best case scenario is that I can talk him into coming down. At the very least, I might be able to get him to trust me enough to eat some real food and let me run a medscanner over him. Either would be progress, considering the situation as it stands."

"Don't be so pedantic." Hope scowled. "I'm not going to talk you out of this, am I?" she asked, a distinct note of resignation in her voice. "Stab your eyes. Tell me something, Nathan, do you deliberately wait until Aliya's gone to burst out in these excesses of meticulous chieftainly behavior?"

"Of course. She'd never let me get away with things like this if she was actually here." Nathan slung the pack over his shoulder and winked at Hope. "Either that or she'd come along."

"So can I?" Tyler's voice came from the doorway of his bedroom. Nathan opened his mouth and then closed it again, aware that 'I thought you were asleep' would sound very much like he'd been planning to sneak out and leave his son all alone for Winternight. "Can I come, I mean. Since Mama's not here to go with you." He blushed. "Mother. I meant Mother."

"I'd prefer you didn't," Nathan finally said, hoping that the boy wouldn't press the issue, although part of him was gently amused by Tyler's little self-correction. His son was at the stage where he wanted to sound and act more 'adult', which only made his occasional slips even more touching. "It's going to be a hard trek up there. I don't dare take any kind of a vehicle, not in weather like this."

"You need someone to keep you company," Tyler said determinedly. He was already wearing his cloak and heavy boots, Nathan noted with a sigh as the boy stepped forward out of the shadows. He had that set look on his face that Nathan knew far too well, having seen it on his own reflection for more years than he cared to remember. "It makes sense. It's not safe to go up there on your own, Hope's right."

"And it's even less safe for you to go up there!" Hope exclaimed. Nathan gave her a warning look. She had always been very protective of Tyler - more overtly so than Jen, oddly enough - but although he didn't particularly want Tyler along with him tonight, he wasn't prepared to insult his son's pride by turning him down flat, or ridiculing his offer. This clearly wasn't a whim on Tyler's part; he'd thought it through, obviously, and however Nathan might dislike the idea, he had to give him that.

"I can keep up," Tyler said stoutly. "I've been doing really well in training. Coulin says I have a lot of stamina. . ."

"Training is an entirely different matter," Hope said sternly, but in a more level voice. Catching on, Nathan thought dryly. "It's good of you to offer Tyler. . .very good thinking. . .but you shouldn't encourage your father."

Nathan gave a good-humored sigh. He loved it when his family talked about him like he was a headstrong child. "I'm not listening to this, Hope. I'm going to go up there and talk to Goren. I'll be back before dawn. . .plenty of time to get ready for the ceremonies." He met her eyes, holding them quite unrepentantly with that Askani trick Jen had taught him. "And if fortune smiles on us," he said more quietly, "I'll have Goren with me."

Hope grimaced. "Nathan. . .oath, man, I'm not questioning your motives. Just this decision to drop everything and hike into the mountains in the middle of a storm!" Thunder rumbled loudly, as if in emphasis. "It sounds like it's actually getting worse out there. What if. . ."

"What is, is," Nathan said absently, meeting his son's eyes. #You really want to go?# he asked silently, regretting what he was doing even as he did it. But the determination emanating from Tyler was too strong to ignore, he DID have a point about safety, and part of Nathan pointed out, calmly and rationally, that this might be a good experience for his son. To show him that it wasn't just leadership that a Clan Chief needed to practice, but compassion, as well. . .even when it was inconvenient. #It's not liable to be a very pleasant trip. . .#

Yes, I do. Tyler's thought came to him, soft but clear.

Nathan wrestled with his own protective instincts, wondering what Jen would say about this. This isn't an acid storm, so that's not a problem. . .I'm certainly not going to let him fall off a rock face or anything. . .that's the spirit, Dayspring, have all the possible objections covered and she won't be able to argue with you. . . "I. . .we'll take a tracker and a communit," he said to Hope, who flushed and opened her mouth to protest. He continued quickly, cutting her off quite deliberately. "Just in case I fall, fracture my skull, and can't shout telepathically for help," he said, trying to make a joke of it.

It didn't quite work. "Your skull's too thick to crack!" Hope exploded. After that initial outburst, though, her anger seemed to cool as quickly as it had come. . .although her eyes were terribly hard, Nathan thought with a bit of a wince as she glared at him. "Fine," she said thinly. "Do what you want. You always do."

"Thanks, Hope!" Tyler said happily, hugging her. Her expression softened immediately, and Nathan very carefully repressed a smile. "We'll be careful, I promise!"

Hope muttered something under her breath. "Your father doesn't know the meaning of the word," she said more loudly, giving Nathan a thoroughly black look while Tyler couldn't see. "It's a good thing you take after our side of the family. . ."

Nathan gave her a bright smile, just to be obnoxious.


"You can not," Domino said, very carefully, "ALL come. I'm sorry, but that's not an option."

"Hey, I didn't volunteer. . ."

"No one asked you, Bedlam!" James snapped, giving him a disgusted look and then turning back to Domino. "Why not?" The question was gruff, but not particularly confrontational, and Domino relaxed a little.

"Practical considerations," she said shortly. "You don't descend in a horde on a stressed telepath, no matter how good your intentions are." She leveled a firm look at each of them where they sat around the kitchen table, just for emphasis. Their initial reaction was understandable, but they had to know it wouldn't work. If there was one thing she and Nathan had tried to teach them, it was to think tactically.

"So, what are you going to do?" Tabitha asked almost pugnaciously. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and Domino realized, with a stab of sympathy, that she must have been crying. "Go with Blaquesmith?"

Under other circumstances, the distaste lacing the second of Tabitha's questions would have been heartily amusing. "Hardly," Domino murmured. "Blaquesmith told me where Nathan is, but he's not doing anything more than lending me a fast plane. . .which should be on its way here on auto-pilot, at the moment. He told me. . .promised me he won't go after Nate." He'd offered it freely, although she would have demanded it, if he hadn't. . .

"Why?" The muscles along James's jaw rippled. He was keeping himself well under control, but he was angrier than he was letting on. Domino regarded him warily, honestly not sure whether his temper was going to hold or not. "Because of what happened? What the hell IS this? 'Hasta la vista, Cable, you screwed up, catch you in the next life?'"

"Just. . .caution, I think." I am NOT defending Blaquesmith. I'm just trying to settle the kids down. Caution wasn't quite what she thought, to be perfectly honest, but she wasn't about to get into it with the kids. She herself was still far too amazed that the little rat had decided to give Nate some 'space'. Amazed, and worried about what that said about Nathan's mental state, if Blaquesmith was willing to cut him this much slack.

Finding out where Nate had gone had been a lot easier than she'd thought. Too easy? Domino shook her head irritably. You don't need to suspect EVERYTHING, Domino. She'd tracked down Irene Merryweather's phone number, and the reporter had promised her that she'd find Blaquesmith and have him 'get back to you as soon as possible'. The next thing Domino had known, the little rat had been inside her head, telling her that Nathan had shown up there two days ago, thrown his psimitar at Blaquesmith's feet and taken off for the safehouse in Switzerland.

"Still," Dani put in, "you shouldn't go up there on your own." Domino eyed her measuringly. Dani was certainly not being nearly as emotional about this as Sam and Tabitha - and James, which REALLY surprised her - were, but she sounded quite insistent. "If he's hurt, like the Professor said, you might need help getting him back to the plane, at the very least. Or if he's. . ." She paused, as if rethinking what she'd been about to say. "You don't think he might be, well. . .not himself?" she asked, sounding considerably less sure of herself.

Domino bit back the obvious response. She KNEW he wasn't going to be himself, which was part of the reason that she didn't want the kids along. But there was no way in hell she was going to tell THEM that. "You've probably got a point," she said neutrally.

"Practical considerations," Sam said very quietly from the corner. She shot a look back over her shoulder at him, grimacing at his tightly controlled expression. "Ah think you should take at least one of us along, ma'am. . ."

"So what do we do, flip a coin?" Tabitha asked with a slightly wild laugh, and then shook her head. "Never mind," she said in a calmer tone. "If that's the reason you're going to take someone along with you, Dom, I probably wouldn't be much help. Sam or Jimmy should go."

"What are you going to do if he doesn't want to come back?" Jesse asked, a little too challengingly for Domino's liking. "Hit him over the head and throw him in the plane?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Domino said, meeting the young man's eyes and staring him down until he glanced almost defensively at the floor.

"Yeah, so shut up, Jesse," Tabitha muttered, almost hugging herself. "You don't have any business being part of this conversation, as far as I'm concerned. . ."

Amazingly enough, he didn't snap back at her. Domino smiled thinly, and turned to James and Sam. "Well? Are we going to have to flip a coin?"

"No," James said heavily, and Domino, yet again, was startled by the amount of anxiety with which he was so visibly struggling. He didn't have any particular attachment to the X-Men, or Scott in particular. . .rather the opposite, considering what had happened to his brother. Nathan's capture had hit him awfully hard, harder than she would have expected. "Sam's a better choice. The two of you probably have the best chance at getting through to him." He managed a wan sort of smile. "Especially considering the antisocial mood he's liable to be in."

"Thanks, Jimmy," Sam said very quietly. "Don't worry, guys. We'll have him back here tomorrow in time for dinner."

Domino wondered if he was really as confident as he sounded, or if he was just being optimistic. "Well, we'll give it our best shot, at least," she said. They really couldn't force him to come. . .very few people could make Nathan do something he didn't want to do, and most of them were either Askani or mad geneticists. . .

But she wasn't going to leave him up there. She WASN'T. Not after everything that had happened. He shouldn't be alone. . .he NEEDED to be with people that cared about him, that wouldn't let him shut down and turn in on himself OR decide to go after Apocalypse and go out in a blaze of glory. She'd just have to put her powers of persuasion to the test and hope he was too depressed to be argumentative.


Nathan sensed the first flicker of panic as Tyler started to slip, the rain-sodden ground beneath his feet giving way. He reached out telekinetically, ignoring the strain and the dull, hot ache of the T-O virus testing his control, and pulled his son up onto more stable ground. It had rained so much that the ground had turned into mud, which didn't seem to want to stay in one place, at least on slopes like this. They were just fortunate they hadn't been caught in the middle of an actual landslide, yet. Luck, flonqing luck. . .since when did I start relying on luck?

#Be careful,# he told Tyler telepathically, not bothering to try and shout over the howling wind. #Stay close.#

"I'm trying," Tyler shouted exhaustedly, his voice breaking as he struggled to get his balance back. "I'm sorry, I'm trying. . ."

#I know. Don't apologize.# This had been a thoroughly BAD idea, Nathan decided, reaching out and pulling Tyler closer. He wanted him within arm's reach, in case he fell again.

The storm had waited until they were well up into the mountains and then begun to worsen steadily, as if the flonqing thing had a malicious mind of its own. He'd considered stopping and calling for help several times in the last hour, but he'd be endangering anyone that came up after them, and he wouldn't do that. He'd gotten them into this. . .he'd get them back out again, and he'd do what he came up here to do, as well. Straightening, he glared up at the pitch-black sky. He wasn't going to let tonight end any other way than how he'd planned. The weather could go flonq itself.

Tyler stumbled again, but recovered before Nathan could reach out to him. "How much farther?" His voice was raw with exhaustion, and Nathan winced.

#You don't need to try and shout. Just think, and I'll hear you..# Hearing the thoughts of those very close to him, the people he cared about, had never been that difficult for him. Right now, for example, he knew that Tyler was tired, and cold, and a little afraid. . .Jen is going to have my head, and I'm going to let her. What had he been THINKING?

I don't know if I can. . . The thought was faint, despairing, but Nathan heard it clearly, and it struck a note of real fear in him.

Stopping, he turned, taking Tyler by the shoulders. #You can,# he told him. #I know you can, Ty. . .#

I'm so tired. . .

#I know. But we're almost there. . .# They had to be. #Just a little farther. . .# He drew Tyler in under his arm, into the shelter of his own cloak. #I've got to admit, Ty, I wish I hadn't let you come. . .#

He felt, rather than heard, Tyler laugh. I sort of wish I hadn't volunteered. . .

#So let's get moving and do what we came here to do. Then we can go home and wait for your mother to get back and tell us what a pair of irresponsible pipeheads we are. . .#

The wind shrieked, blowing what seemed like a wall of ice-cold rain into their faces. Lightning split the sky, and Nathan blinked away the afterimage, sure that he saw a shape farther up the slope, nestled between two rock outcroppings. A perfect vantage point; that HAD to be the watchpost.

He tightened his grip on Tyler as his son, in his weariness, started to continue forward. #Hold up for a second.# They didn't want to startle Goren into fleeing into the storm, or any such thing.

#Goren,# he said softly, keeping his distance from the swirling, chaotic thoughts he sensed ahead of them. #Goren, it's Nathan Dayspring. I'm here with my son, we mean you no harm. . .#

Alarm. Wariness. But not panic, no sign that he was going to run. . .

Father? Is he there?

Nathan started to nod, then remembered that Tyler probably wouldn't see the gesture in the darkness of the storm. #He is. But when we get up there, stay behind me, just in case.#

Together, they continued on to the watchpost.


"Ah can't believe we're doing this! This is nuts!"

Domino grimaced, wishing she'd put on a few more layers. "Stop complaining and walk, Guthrie!" she shouted, and then cursed, having gotten a faceful of snow when she turned back to look at him.

"Ah could FLY us up there, ma'am!" Sam shot back stubbornly, struggling along in her wake. "It doesn't make any sense t'be. . ."

"I don't particularly feel like bouncing off a mountain because you can't see where you're going in this, kid!" Domino waved a disgusted hand at the snow, which was presently engaged in coming down like there was no tomorrow.

They'd been about ten minutes away from landing at the safehouse when Blaquesmith's stupid little plane had decided it didn't LIKE flying in the snow. They hadn't had much option but to put down on the nearest patch of flat ground, and they'd been walking ever since.

Sam scrambled through the snow, catching up to her. "Ah can't believe this weather!" he snarled.

"Since when did you get to be such a cynic?" She stumbled over something buried in the knee-deep snow - a rock, maybe - and Sam reached out to steady her. She swore under her breath, shivering. There'd been the usual survival gear in the plane, so both she and Sam had parkas on, but it was still damnably, bitterly cold. The snow swirled around them wildly, as if they were inside a snow globe, and the wind was deafening. It was a good thing she could have found her way to this particular safehouse in her sleep. . .

She didn't tend to like Nathan's safehouses. They were usually cheerless, utilitarian places, without a spark of personality or warmth about them. Some were worse, like the one in Hell's Kitchen. Those she hated with a passion.

But the one here in Switzerland had always been different. They'd spent time here together. . .lots of time. . .as far back as the days with the Pack. Nathan had always been able to relax here. She'd never been sure whether it was the isolation, or something else, something less tangible, but she'd always felt that it was here she'd seen the 'real' Nathan for the first time. The first time he'd opened his heart - in his own fumbling way - had been here.

She closed her eyes for a moment, smiling involuntarily as she remembered.

This is ridiculous, Dom. When am I ever going to have to know how to ski?

Could come in handy. . .you never know. Remind me to take you to see a James Bond movie, one of these days.

I don't think I've ever had so many bruises in my life.

Poor Nate. Must suck to be old. . .

Old? I'll show you old. . .

He'd swept her right off her feet and carried her, laughing, to the bed. The memory warmed her for a moment, but the flash of remembered happiness vanished almost as quickly as it had come. She somehow doubted that there would be any of that ease and warmth there, tonight.

She didn't know what she'd find there. The fear made a climb that would have been tough under any circumstances seem impossible. . .made the winter night seem even colder than it was.

Domino wasn't used to being quite so afraid.

Look at this, Dom! There's got to be two metres of snow out there!

So what? All that means is that we're snowed in! You get sentimental about the strangest things, Nate. . .

I LIKE snow.

We all KNOW that. Now drink your hot chocolate, oaf. You look like a kid on Christmas morning. . .

She stumbled again, going to her knees this time. Sam stopped, hovering over her. "Dom? You okay?"

Domino nodded, struggling back to her feet with his help. "Fine," she said hoarsely. "Let's keep going, we've got to be almost there."

Can't keep up with me, eh?

The day I can't keep up with you, Dom, you can feel free to go ahead and bury me.

Oooh, sounds like a challenge. . .Nate, don't you dare!

You should have kept your mouth shut, you know.

Tickle me and die, old man!

The snow wasn't letting up a bit as they came up the wide slope that led up to the cabin itself. If anything, the storm got worse, as if it was determined to keep them from getting there, some outward expression by the weather of Nate's desire to be alone.

Domino stopped, swallowing. She couldn't see any light coming from the windows. Just the storm, she told herself; she just wasn't seeing the light through the snow. That had to be it. He HAD to be there.

Nathan? she thought tentatively, reaching out across a link that was no longer there. Nate?

Sam, a step ahead of her, hesitated as well. Then, visibly setting his shoulders, he strode onwards with a kind of grim determination that reminded her far too much of Nathan. Again.

Okay. Open your eyes.

This had better be good, Nate. . .oh. Oh, it's beautiful.

Really? I mean, I've never decorated a Christmas tree before. . .I think I maybe overdid it with the tinsel.

It's beautiful. You didn't just. . .um, step outside and cut it, did you?

Um. . .was I not supposed to do that?

No! No. . .you did just fine, Nate. Just fine.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, remembering the tentative smile on his face as she'd looked at the Christmas tree. Opening them again, staring up at the cabin, she caught up to Sam in a few determined steps, and held the memory of happier times to her like a shield as they came to the door of the cabin.


The inside of the watchpost was cold and dark. Nathan grimaced at the sight of the figure huddled in the corner, beneath a pile of ragged blankets. Tyler started to move forward and he reached out a hand to stop him.

#Stay by the door.# He didn't wait to hear Tyler murmur an 'all right'. Taking off the pack and setting it carefully on the floor, he moved, slowly, hands outstretched, towards the corner. "Goren?" he said very gently, concentrating on projecting reassurance. "It's Nathan Dayspring. I. . .we brought you some food, but I thought you might come back down to the city with us." He crouched down in front of the man, careful to keep a bit of a distance. He didn't want Goren to think he was being pressured. "Since it's Winternight. . .I hate to think of you up here on your own."

Goren blinked at him. His face was drawn, his eyes glassy. . .he didn't look at all like the man Nathan remembered. "Have to stay here," he mumbled after such a long silence that Nathan had almost given up on getting an answer.

"Here?" Nathan gestured around at the watchpost. "This isn't a place fit for one of my Clansmen, Goren." He put a little firmness into his tone, but lightened it again when the man shuddered. "Not tonight," he said more gently. "Not ever. If I'd known you were up here before now. . ."

"Have to stay here." There was something very close to terror in that slurred voice. "Can't go back down to the city. . .don't belong there."

"Then let me give you an escort back to Shrida. To YOUR home."

"No!" Goren shifted, his eyes focusing on Nathan's face for a moment, filling with tears. "I deserve to be alone. I couldn't help them."

"Them?" Tyler said tentatively, from the door.

"The Evayans. I could hear them screaming, at night. . .I couldn't help them. None of us could. We were supposed to be there to protect them, and we couldn't help them!" Goren glared tearfully at Nathan. "Why didn't you come sooner? Even just a few days. . ."

Nathan swallowed. "I did the best I could," he said softly, wearily. "And so did you, Goren. We're human beings, brother, not workers of miracles. . ."

The fierceness in Goren's eyes wavered. "We tried," he whispered miserably, huddling farther into his blankets. "We fought. . .but there were too many of them. . ."

"You did the best you could," Nathan whispered, reaching out and laying a hand on the man's shoulder. . .establishing the physical contact he needed to try and reach into his mind, to help, to heal. Jen could do this from across the room, with just a glance. He had to be in close proximity, and even then, it was a struggle. . ."Your garrison held out for longer than you should have. The Evayans that are alive today live because you and those you fought beside bought me the days I needed to get the troops there."

"But it wasn't enough!"

"It was," Nathan said softly, firmly. "And it won't be forgotten. There are three thousand Evayans resettled in the Protectorate. They'll live, they'll have children, and it'll be because one outnumbered garrison ignored the odds and fought until they couldn't fight anymore." He squeezed Goren's shoulder gently. "Mourn the lives lost, my friend, but honor the ones you saved."

Goren blinked up at him for a moment and then seemed to collapse in on himself, helpless sobs escaping him. Nathan reached out and took the weeping man in his arms.

"Time to come home, Goren," he said softly. "Long past time."


The only light inside the cabin was from the embers of the dying fire. The shadows were thick, strangely oppressive. They seemed to cling to the man sitting in front of the fireplace, wrapping him in darkness. The faint firelight barely glinted off his silver hair.

Domino swallowed, giving Sam a warning look as she slid off her parka. They had to go easy, here. Nathan hadn't so much as looked around at their arrival, although he had to have sensed them coming long ago.

"Nate?" she said softly, walking over and kneeling down beside him. He continued to stare at the fire, the expression on his face blank, his eyes empty. Domino swallowed again, past a lump in her throat this time, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You shouldn't have come." His voice was rough, creaky, as if he hadn't spoken for days. He probably hadn't, Domino reflected bleakly.

"To hell with that," she murmured. "You shouldn't be here, Nathan."

"I belong here. I should be alone." There was no self-pity in the words, no emotion at all.

"Ah've got to disagree with that, sir," Sam said very calmly, taking off his parka and going over to sit on the couch. Close enough to be part of the conversation, Domino noticed with a faint smile, but far enough away to give them space.

Nathan's head turned towards Sam for a moment. "Why are you here?" he asked, still in that curiously lifeless tone. "Wondering if I can managed to get the two of you killed, too? Or worse? There are worse things than dying, you know. . ."

"Nathan," Domino said, very gently. "I'm so sorry about Scott."

His shoulders stiffened. "Sorry has no meaning," he whispered. "I'm sorry about Scott. I'm sorry I was stupid enough to get captured. I'm. . .sorry I. . .totally flonqing LOST it. . .did Xavier tell you that? That I was ready to kill everyone there to get to Apocalypse. . .for absolutely no good reason, since I couldn't do anything more than blast a hole in his shield. One miserable little hole. Just big enough for Scott to jump through. . ." He laughed wildly, running a shaking hand through his hair. "If I'd know, Dom, if I'd had any idea what would happen, what he was going to do. . .I would have killed him, first. What does that make me, Dom?"

"Nate. . ."

"Besides a failure. Besides a waste of time. Everyone's time. Why did they even bother? Sinister, the Askani. . .they should have known I couldn't do it. Rachel should have let me die. . ."

He was shaking, tears pouring down his face. Domino reached out and wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could. His heart was pounding, his whole body racked with suppressed sobs.

"Nate. . .you can't blame yourself, Nate. You CAN'T. You did the best you could. . ."

"But. . ."

Sam, tears glimmering in his eyes, slid down to the floor and hugged them both. "No buts," he whispered fiercely. "Ah know you. Ah know you couldn't have done anything but your best, sir. And ah sure as hell know Scott. . .your father wouldn't have blamed you for any of this. You did everything you could. . ."

"It wasn't enough," Nathan almost moaned. "I couldn't. . .if someone died, it was supposed to be me, Dom. . ."

Ignoring the tears leaking down her own face, Domino pressed her lips against his temple, barely a kiss. "But you didn't," she whispered softly. "You're still here. You're alive. And I'm glad, Nate, I won't lie about that."

"We all are," Sam muttered, his voice thick. "Ah. . .ah wouldn't want to lose you, sir. . ."

Cable raised a shaking hand, wiping away tears. "I don't know what to do." His voice was lost and afraid, utterly unguarded, and fresh tears sprung to Domino's eyes. "I don't know. . ."

"We'll figure it out," Domino murmured as those anguished eyes met her, searching, needing. . . "You're not alone, Nate. We're here." Always. .

He stared at her for a moment longer, tears spilling down his face, and leaned forward into her embrace, grief finally winning out over shock and guilt.

She held him tightly, whispering words she never remembered afterwards, listening to the soft sound of the snow falling on the roof as the storm, at last, quieted.


Good King Wenceslas looked out on the feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even;
Brightly shone the moon that night, tho' the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight, gath'ring winter fuel.

"Hither, page, and stand by me, if thou know'st it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?"
"Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain;
Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes' fountain."

"Bring me flesh and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither:
Thou and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither."
Page and monarch, forth they went, forth they went together;
Thro' the rude wind's wild lament and the bitter weather.

"Sire, the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger;
Fails my heart, I know not how, I can go no longer."
"Mark my footsteps, good my page; tread thou in them boldly:
Thou shalt find the winter's rage freeze thy blood less coldly."

In his master's steps he trod, where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod which the saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing.



fin


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