by Adriana Scaletti
Disclaimer: Marvel's, no money--yep, you know the deal. This story is mostly 'thoughts-based' and sort of a companion piece to 'Full Circle', but it can be read on its own. (Well, you *can* try... ;) This one is for my little sister Silvana/Husk, so she has something not-angsting to read while I'm away... :) Bigger-than-life thanks to Ali (she's always so nice! ;) and a hug to Jeff.
...
He's obnoxiously tall. That's the first thing I notice.
That, and the fact his hair is completely white.
-Weird.
...
Who is he?
...
--Head hurts.
Like hell.
...
--His eyes are blue...no, make that gray.
The left one with a dim-- glow??
How--?
...
Dark rings around both eyes...but yet they-- sparkle.
Almost...
--It would be out of place to say 'happily'?
Is he happy to see me?
...
Who IS he?
...
And-- the scars around his right eye.
Really Weird.
The scars, I mean.
They form a pattern, shaped as a star...
Is that supposed to symbolize something?
Or is he just--
...
Damn *ribs* ache.
Bet I broke a couple...
...
-- I really like his voice. It's deep and soothing...and shows concern.
...
Dammit, who the hell IS he?
Was he--?
...
At first, he reached for me with a broad hand--
--Okay, here's The Weirdest Thing...a *metallic* hand?
...
He wanted to come closer.
I didn't trust him to.
I was afraid. I mean--
So I said no, shacking my head.
...
Somehow, I know *that* hurt him.
Why?
...
Why do I care?
Hell, it's not like--
...
And he starts talking.
Feverishly, the edge in his voice plain to hear.
He's afraid.
...
--for me?
...
Hmmm.
Logan?
That sounds familiar...
A face...smiling toothily-- yep, definitely a friend.
But why--
...
--My name?
Of course I know my name!
It's--
It's...
Dammit!
I--
...
I don't.
...
I feel like crying.
Suddenly, I'll love to smash all this nice furniture...
--Who am I?
...
Does *he* know my name?
...
Domino?
Is that a name at all?
Not sure.
But he says another one, also...
--"Dom".
...
Yeah.
I like that one better.
...It'll do for now.
Besides, it's not like it mattered that much...
...
I like the way he says it, though.
The way his lips form the word, very carefully--
Every time.
...
I want for him to keep talking...
It feels right-- being with him.
...
...
Twenty-five years.
...
I can't *believe* I'm believing him.
But I do.
He has something very...familiar.
God, if I could just remember-- !
...
Coffee sounds like a good idea.
Colombian, huh?
...
But first--
...
"Nathan", he says.
"Nate".
--'Nate'. I form the word in my head.
Try to carve it there.
...
--His metallic hand...it's warm.
I like it.
...
A psi-bond?
What the *hell* is that?
...
"As close as you can come to know another person", he says.
So... we were close.
That doesn't seem so terrible.
To be close.
Not right now, anyway.
I'm-- empty.
--But whatever it was, it's gone.
...
Pity.
He looks pretty interesting.
Must have been fun--
...
Now, WHAT *in blazes* I'm doing?!
I need to--
I don't know what, but surely I *don't* need to spend time wondering like
some--!
Geez, get a grip and *think* for a second, you stupid--!
...
Another face. More of them.
Young ones.
A blond girl?
A boy-- a slim boy.
...
I look around, and I see a picture framed on the night table.
--I know those people!
I try and gesture him so...
Why is so difficult to talk?
...
What happened to me?
...
"The kids", he says.
As in 'the kids you're supposed to care for'?
--Nah, they look way too grown-up...
As in 'our kids'? --Whoa!
No way in heck *I* managed to gave birth to any of this bunch...
No way at all I--
...
At least they're cute.
--In a weird, in-your-face sorta way...
Don't really know why, but--
...
Wish they were here.
...
Damn, I need a gun.
A knife.
Anything.
Don't like feeling-- helpless.
...
What *is* it with this man?!
I said I DON'T LIKE DOCTORS!
Irritating-self-righteous--
I try to get up--
...
That *hurt*.
How long I've been lying on this bed, anyway?
...
In coma?
-- At least I wish it was worthed.
God, I feel so tired now...
...
I gesture for him to come closer...
To lie beside me.
He slides his flesh arm around me, and I try to shift so he can--
...
Yeah, he's annoying...
--Was he always like that?
Well, I'm the same.
--I guess.
So who cares?
He makes me laugh.
And I like that little scar on his neck...
...
He keeps talking.
Calmer, this time.
I don't mind...it's like he's anchoring me...
To this.
To the here and now.
--I try to stay awake...
He's still warm--
...
--All over.
And I'm suddenly feeling so cold...
And my eyelashes feel *so* heavy...
I just want to--
...
...
...
When I open my eyes again, he'd been crying.
Calling my name, I recall.
The tears seem-- out of place on his face.
And his eyes are so sad...
Did I just pass out?
...
I shake my head.
--slowly, 'cuz it still hurts.
But I said no doctors, dammit!
Stubborn pig-headed man...
I should have kicked his ass just to--
--hey, so what if he's bigger than me?
...
The door at my left opens, and I clench my fists on instinct at the sight of
the newcomers.
People I don't recognize.
People I don't trust.
Why did he call them?
...
A man comes to my side.
I suddenly realize-- I know this one.
...Logan.
I let him take my hand, but he doesn't speak.
Strangely, I found that soothing.
I know he knows so.
Don't know how.
...
Another man, younger, puts his hand on hi-- on Nathan's shoulder.
I recognize the gesture. It's meant to comfort.
Even if the younger man has his eyes covered by a strange red visor, they
look alike, somehow.
Nathan being a rougher version--
--Nathan's son?
...
And a redhead. A woman with sad, green eyes.
She just looks at me.
I don't like the way she does it.
So sad.
Almost like a reflection of *his* eyes...
And then--
...
And then I don't know what possesses me.
I get up--
--a stab of pain at my left side--
--still trembling, I take Nathan's arm.
I try to speak...
So hard--
...
"Nate..." I don't care if it comes out more like a hoarse growl--
"--get me out of here".
...Now, why did I did that?
I'm so tired...
...
He looks at me. Stares.
Like if he's trying to drown himself in my eyes.
--pleasepleaseplease keep me anchored--
He just nods.
...
Then he carries me, cuddling me close --with more delicacy that I would guess possible for those strong-looking hands. And as he walks away, he ignores the protest of the others --Logan? The younger man?...- and I concentrate on listen to the steady, reassuring sound of his heartbeat.
...
It feels right.
Just *being* with him...
Maybe I'm in luck this time.
Fin