Dreamweaver: Part Eighteen
Two weeks after her abrupt return to the mansion, Dana Hawkes decided to take an early morning walk down to the lake. She and Sam had spent most of last night talking again--this is getting to be a habit, she thought wryly. If we're not careful, we're going to start up those old rumors again. Dana felt herself blush at the memory of how nosy her teammates had been when they'd thought she and Sam were--doing more than talking.
Still, it had been a good conversation. They'd been resolving a lot lately--and doing it the right way, for once, rather than acting like dizzy romantics and relying on their emotions to carry them through. It was a long, involved, drawn-out way to rebuild their relationship, but then again, Rome hadn't been built in a day.
Dana took a deep breath, smiling to herself. It was a beautiful morning, promising yet another spectacular day. Basking in the warmth of the sunlight, Dana felt a peculiar type of exultation. The weather had been so gorgeous since she'd come back. It was as if the world itself was putting its seal of approval on her decision to stay.
She made her way down to the beach, humming contentedly to herself. But as she saw Cable hovering above the sand, upside-down, she stopped in her tracks.
What the hell is he doing? Abruptly, she remembered the time she'd seen Jean doing something similar. Meditation, she said. But there was something different about the way Cable was doing it--a certain formality, a sense of ritual that she assumed was part of his Askani training. It was intriguing to watch. Despite all of Meggan's lessons, the Askani techniques Cable had first taught her still shaped how she functioned as an empath.
Tenatively, Dana reached out towards him, just to get a quick reading of his emotions. She'd been worried about him lately. Even with all the trouble she'd had, her shields had never broken down completely, like his had. She couldn't imagine herself in the same situation, and comparing her empathy to Cable's telepathy was like putting a candle beside a supernova.
She sensed frustration, weariness, and still a great deal of pain. His physical recovery was progressing nicely, although he was still fairly weak. Her gift didn't work very well when it came to less-tangible problems, like shock and exhaustion. But more troubling was his inability to raise more than a rudimentary, intermittent shield, even after working with Jean twelve hours a day for the last week. The strain was obviously taking its toll. This was the first time she'd seen him outside his psi-shielded room or the Z'nox chamber since that--unfortunate incident with Marrow three days ago.
Not unfortunate, she corrected herself. More like terrifying. Marrow--who wasn't all that stable to begin with--had gotten into an argument with Bobby. He hadn't helped the situation, subtly needling her with his excuse for wit until she had lost total control. From what Sam said, that wasn't anything out of the ordinary for the Morlock girl, but no one had expected Cable's reaction. He'd been in the room, quietly drinking a cup of coffee until Marrow had ripped out a pair of her bone knives and told Bobby exactly what precious bodily organ she was going to start with. She'd lept at him, and Cable, with a chilling snarl, had all but exploded out of his chair and gone right for her throat. It had taken Bobby, Sam, Logan and Scott to pull him off her, and he'd struggled so violently, lashing out in all directions with his telekinesis, that Hank had been forced to sedate him. Dana had been eating breakfast with Sam at the time. She'd felt Cable lose his shields, but she still wasn't sure what exactly had happened to cause him to react so savagely. Jean had said something about an involuntary psi-link, but all Dana knew was that she had felt Marrow's emotions, a bloodthirsty sort of rage that had reminded her of Logan in his worst moments, and then she'd felt exactly the same emotion coming from Cable, like a perfect reflection. It had definitely been one of the more frightening experiences she'd ever had.
Dana scowled in frustration. She'd racked her brains for days, trying to remember anything Meggan had taught her that could help Cable. But the simple fact was that Meggan's techniques were intended for an empath, not a telepath. What worked for her wouldn't work for Cable--no matter how much she wished it could.
As she watched, the golden light around Cable's body suddenly flickered and vanished. He fell, hitting the sand with an audible thud and a muffled curse that she didn't quite catch. Dana gaped for a moment, and then hurried to his side to make sure he was all right.
"Cable, what happened?" she asked urgently, kneeling down beside him. He flinched away from her, and she carefully raised her shields. "Are you okay?" she asked in a calmer voice, keeping her distance.
"I'm fine," he said curtly, pulling himself up to a sitting position and brushing the sand from his clothes. "My telekinesis just cut out, that's all. It's been doing that a lot lately."
She frowned, puzzled. "You seem to have the virus under control."
"I mean my active telekinesis--the part of it I can use for things other than keeping my body together," Cable said irritably. "One moment I won't have enough to lift a penny, then all of a sudden I'll get the most ridiculous urge to start flinging mountains around." He muttered something under his breath in Askani, a curse by the sounds of it. "What are you doing out here?"
That had sounded definitely unfriendly. "Taking a walk," Dana said mildly. "Should I have asked permission first?"
He flushed at the slight sarcasm in her tone, but stared right back at her, without the faintest bit of apology in his expression. Dear God, he's stubborn, Dana thought, amused. He must have been an absolute horror as a three year-old.
Something occured to her then, and she sighed, realizing a possible reason behind his foul mood. "I wasn't checking up on you, if that's what the attitude's for. Jean and Domino threatened the rest of us with a dire fate if we didn't give you some space. I just came out to get some fresh air. Sam and I stayed up talking fairly late last night."
"Really?" Dana was touched by how pleased he looked. "That's good to hear. Have the two of you--" He fell silent with a wince, going quite pale. The level of pain she was feeling from his increased sharply, and she adjusted her own shielding to compensate.
"Another headache?" she asked in concern. He started to nod, but then apparently thought better of it. "Do you want me to--"
"No," he grated. "I'm fine! I've just been--outside for too long." Dana flinched as she sensed his sudden rage. "I hate this! Dodging back into a psi-shielded room every half-hour--I feel like I'm running away." Then, what little color was left in his face abruptly vanished, and he nearly doubled over, shaking violently.
Dana reached out towards him, but her gift remained stubbornly dormant. She stared at her hands, savagely willing them to glow.
He raised his head with what seemed like an enormous effort, and managed a wan smile. "Appreciate--the thought."
She sighed, giving up. "You're not running away, you know," she told him. "Believe me, I know what running away is. It's just going to take you a while to get back to normal, that's all. You have to give yourself time." Dana wondered for a moment if she should enlighten him on some of the speculating Jean had been doing about the nature of his shields, and why he wasn't able to reconstruct them. She decided against it. He had enough to worry about. "I never did thank you," she continued, hoping that the sound of her voice might give him something to focus on. She remembered how comforting it had been to listen to Meggan talk amiably on about the weather, about Wisdom's bad habits and Lockheed's latest cute trick, while the two of them had been working on her shields. "For saving Sam, I mean." She grinned. "For an External, he seems to get himself into these situations fairly regularly."
"Forgot--about that," he said, and she felt startlement mingled with the pain. "I-instinct, I guess."
She gave a delighted laugh, and he looked up at her, appearing faintly bewildered. "You are such a hypocrite, you know?" she chuckled, smiling broadly to make sure he knew she wasn't trying to insult him. He still scowled at her, but she wasn't put off. "I distinctly remember you telling me never to act on instinct."
He managed a droll half-smile that Dana's heart soared to see. "I think--this would be a case in point, kid."
"But that's not the only area where you don't practice where you preach, is it?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. He raised an eyebrow at her, but she continued mercilessly. "You've been overlooking something during the last week, you know. Everyone has. Admittedly, the fact that you can't block out the telepathic input you're receiving is a serious problem, but no shields means that another psi can read you like an open book." She gave him a wide grin. "I may only be an empath, but I've been detecting a whole lot of decidedly 'non-independent' emotions from you when you're with Domino." He frowned, and she gave him an arch look. "Did you change your philosophy on the value of total self-sufficiency while I was away?"
He was giving her a very evil look. "You know," he said menacingly, "I'd say Scott owes me for saving his life in Alberta."
"I suppose--" Dana said cautiously, not trusting the sudden change of subject.
"I think I'll ask him to delay your combat recertification until I can do it." He bared his teeth at her. "Wouldn't that be fun?"
Looking upwards in hope of finding some sign of divine assistance in the clouds, Dana wondered forlornly if she shouldn't just throw herself off the roof of the mansion and get it over with. But when she looked back at Cable, she detected a distinct glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
"You--" she growled, unable to think of a word bad enough. He suggested several, and she settled for throwing a handful of sand at him. "You're a sadist," she finally said. "How's the headache?"
"A little better," he admitted in relief, giving her a smile so charming that she instinctively straightened and smoothed her hair before she realized what she was doing. Unlike Jean and Betsy, Cable rarely used the natural charisma that came with his telepathy, but when he did, it could be devastatingly effective. "Or at least I can control it better," he continued, graciously ignoring her reaction. "Now that Hank and Cecilia aren't drugging me to the eyebrows anymore, I can manage a few of the Askani pain-control techniques." She gave him a questioning look, and he smiled tiredly. "Biofeedback, mostly. Anyone can do them with a little practice."
"You'll have to teach me."
"I will." He stared at her for a moment, and then gave an almost hesitant smile. "I'm glad you and Sam are sorting things out. I think the two of you could have a very good relationship--now that you've both grown up a bit."
Zing! Dana thought ruefully. "I suppose I deserved that," she said dryly as she got up, brushing sand from her clothes. She glanced down at him, and then offered him a hand up. Shaking his head, he struggled to his feet on his own and stood there, swaying. He looked unsteady enough that the first gust of wind that came along would knock him over.
"Don't be an idiot," she said in exasperation, pulling his arm around her shoulders so she could support him. He stiffened for a moment, but then she sensed a grudging sort of gratitude and he leaned on her heavily as they started back up to the mansion. She devoutly hoped he could make it the whole way back on his own two feet, because he weighed a ton. "You know, Nathan, you'd have a much easier time of it if you weren't so stubborn about accepting help from the people who love you."
He looked down at her, surprised. She felt a little shocked herself as she realized what she'd just said. He gave her a strange little smile, and deliberately stuck to the more neutral issue.
"That's the first time you've called me by my name," he pointed out.
"It just slipped out," she grumbled. She wasn't referring only to her use of his first name, either. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized it was true. He was her teacher and her friend. A lot of what she loved about Sam had been shaped by Cable's influence. But she loved him for himself, too. Behind the gruff exterior and the insane stubbornness, he had a kind heart, even after all the crap he'd been through. And even though part of her was still bothered by Domino's revelations about some of the things he'd done in the past, she knew he was a good man, knew it on a level so deep that she couldn't have explained where the knowledge had come from.
"Maybe," he said, looking puzzled as he glanced down at her. "But I'd say it was a fairly significant step." He suddenly gave her a forbidding scowl that didn't fool her at all. "But if you ever call me Nate, we're going to have that little appointment in the Danger Room after all."
"Domino and Logan call you that," she said curiously. "And Scott and Jean."
"Dom's got an excuse, since G.W. had her doing it before she knew how much it irritated me," Nathan continued, sounding exasperated. "Logan--well, Logan just does it to irritate me, period."
Dana snorted. "The two of you have a very strange relationship." She bit her lip, and then broached the topic she'd been wondering about. "Do you--hate him for what happened to your son?" Ordinarily she would never have brought something like that up, but in one of their conversations during the last week, Sam had mentioned Tyler again. There was a lot of guilt there, and she wanted to know why.
Nathan was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, he sounded almost sad. "I'd been a pretty sorry excuse for a person if I didn't show the same mercy to Logan that other people have shown to me," he said cryptically. Dana blinked, confused, but then remembered what Domino had told her about forgiveness. "Still, I don't think we could ever be friends," he continued, and there was an almost wistful note in his voice. "It's hard to move past something like this. Besides, Tyler's not the only sore spot between us. And we both hold grudges too well--it's one of the few things we have in common."
Dana was suddenly reminded of the mission into the Institution to rescue Sam. Even in the midst of her frantic worry, she'd noticed how well Logan and Nathan had worked together. How natural it had been to see them fighting side-by-side.
Hmm, she thought in the most private part of her mind. We'll just have to see about this. A more logical voice warned her against meddling--after all, she wasn't dealing with the two most tolerant personalities on earth--but she told it cheerfully to shut up. Besides, she wouldn't be meddling alone. She suspected that she could count on Sam's whole-hearted support.
***
Comfortably ensconced in the den, Logan gnawed on some left-over Kentucky Fried Chicken as he watched CNN. They were showing footage of SHIELD helicopters landed next to the ruins of a major AIM installation, disgorging troops who immediately began 'sanitizing' the area.
Logan grinned. According to the shapely brunette at the anchor desk, AIM had been experimenting with mutates again. That explained Bridge's involvement, although Logan wondered why it had taken SHIELD three full weeks to finally get around to taking out the place.
Maybe the Contessa's got her own way of doing things, he mused. Too bad. I kind of liked the way Nick Fury used to shoot first and ask questions later.
The scene switched to an interview with Bridge himself, who looked worn but grimly satisfied. Logan grunted and changed the channel to the Rangers game. He liked Bridge--although he'd never tell him that--but for a former mercenary, the man sounded too damned much like a politician at times.
The door to the den opened and Logan raised an eyebrow as Jean and a very tired-looking Cable walked in. "Your pal Bridge's splashed all over the twelve'o'clock news," he said idly as Jean sat down gracefully in the chair across from him and Nathan collapsed onto the couch. "SHIELD just took out a major AIM base in Antarctica."
Closing his eyes, Nathan muttered something that even Logan's enhanced hearing didn't catch. Jean snickered, and Logan raised an eyebrow as he looked over at her.
"Inside joke," she said quietly, raising a defensive hand. "Just don't bother him for a while, all right? We've been working in the Z'nox chamber since dawn, and he's exhausted. We don't need any tempers flaring."
Logan acquiesced with a grunt, glancing over at Cable, who looked to be well on his way to being dead to the world. "Making any progress?"
"Actually yes," she said, looking pleased. "His shields are getting more stable. There's no way they'd hold out against any kind of psi-attack yet, but I'd say that he's able to handle small groups now without too much discomfort."
"Sounds like slow going," Logan observed.
"It is," Jean said wryly. "Fortunately, he's stubborn enough that he takes failure as a personal insult. It helps that there's no other option. If I was in the same type of situation, I could just wear an inhibitor collar until my mind healed to the point where rebuilding my shields was easier. That's be the easy way out, but for obvious reasons he can't even consider that."
Logan snorted. "Yeah, turning off his telekinesis along with his telepathy would cause a bit of a problem, wouldn't it? Kind of like stabbing yourself in the heart to cure a hangnail--all right, what's wrong?"
Jean was watching Nathan almost expectantly. "Good," she finally said. "He's asleep." She closed her eyes for a moment, visibly concentrating. "And a little 'nudge' should make sure he stays asleep--" She looked back at Logan, and he frowned as he saw the anger seething just below the surface of her green eyes. "Of course," she said in a light voice that didn't fool him, "he's going to be thoroughly pissed with me if he figures out what I just did."
"What's the matter, Red?" Logan asked directly. She'd always had the most exquisite ethics of any telepath he'd ever met. For her to be tampering with someone's mind, especially Cable's, something had to be seriously wrong.
"You mentioned his telekinesis," she said bluntly. "There's a problem there, too." Logan let the drumstick he was chewing on fall to the plate in his lap, and Jean shook her head. "Don't worry. His hold on the virus seems to be rock-solid. But what's 'left over' is increasing. Dramatically."
"The Phoenix-force?" Logan asked quietly, dreading the answer. But she shook her head.
"That's the thing, Logan. It's all coming from him." She ran her fingers through her hair with a sigh of frustration. "I started testing his telekinesis as soon as he was up and around. At that time, his active telekinesis was cutting out frequently--a defensive reaction, I would think, to avoid the type of near-burnout he was suffering from even before I was stupid enough to send him to Alberta. When it came back, he would seem to have access to slightly more of his power than usual. Think of it like a Cerebro graph, with peaks and valleys." She gestured, demonstrating. "But during the last few days, the valleys have been getting shorter, while the peaks are getting more protracted and much, much higher."
Logan shook his head, confused. "You're losing me, Red. I thought most of his telekinesis went to keeping the virus contained?"
Jean gave him a taut smile. "So did we all. But Hank compared the results from the tests we did to the profile we have on Nate Grey. Nathan's active telekinesis is growing to match his. Incidentally, his power seems to be much more stable. Nate Grey might be dead by the time he's twenty-one, but Nathan shows absolutely none of the same symptoms. Hank's been monitoring him constantly, but he hasn't been able to detect even the beginnings of a problem. And Nathan's not too far off matching Nate Grey, either."
"Jean, how's that possible?"
"Hank thinks the T-O virus is psionically conductive," Jean said, raising an eyebrow. "I won't pretend I understand the explanation. But he showed me the results from one of the scans he did, and almost all of the ambient telekinetic energy in Nathan's body is concentrated within the boundaries of the T-O incursion. Apparently the techno-organic fiber is resistant to the negative side effects of intense psionic energy." Jean sighed. "We've done psychological tests along with the physical ones, but the results are normal--for Nathan, I mean." Logan couldn't help snorting, and Jean gave him a reproving look. "I didn't mean that to be funny, you know. If he keeps this up, we're going to have to class him up there with Joseph when it comes to sheer power." She shook her head with a weak laugh. "Alpha-class doesn't really cover it, I'm afraid."
Logan stared at her, speechless. How did this square with the images of the future he'd seen in Alberta? In Bishop's vision as well as his, Cable had been the host of the Phoenix-force. But Logan remembered quite clearly Moira telling him that Nate Grey's--and by extension, Cable's--own psi-abilities were equal to that of the Dark Phoenix already. And if Cable was somehow going to end up with both--the word 'god' comes to mind, Logan thought, dazed. Joseph would have to get used to the number two spot pretty quick.
But how was that possible? In Bishop's vision, Cable and Magneto had been so evenly matched that Nate'd had to settle for mutual annihilation as the only way to stop Magneto. He shook his head, feeling like he was missing something. Either that, or the future had been changed already.
He gave a strangled laugh, but quickly lowered his voice as Jean gave him a reproving look. "Not that I'm doubtin' your word, darlin', but do either you or Hank have any idea why this would be happened now?" The angry look returned to Jean's face.
"Oh, Hank has lots of theories," she said in a curiously light voice. "He's considering everything--the influence of the Phoenix-energy in particular. But when I think about it, I keep coming back to the fact that his shields are gone."
"So?
Jean sighed. "His shields weren't normal, Logan. They were good enough to keep every telepath in this timeline out of his head, even the Professor. The only exception--"
Logan felt his heart plummet to somewhere in the neighbourhood of his ankles. "Was Rachel," he finished in a horrified voice. "Damn. You don't really think--"
"That they were more than shields?" She gave him a humorless smile. "I'm beginning to suspect that, yes. I only ever managed to give him a very rudimentary sort of training when he was a boy. Just enough to hide his T-O incursion and protect himself from being manipulated by other psis." She scowled. "The Professor inhibited my telepathy when I first came to him. For the Askani, I suspect that it would be child's play to--encourage Nathan to repress his own telekinesis during the ordinary course of training. It would be built into his mental defenses from the ground up. They wouldn't have risked an actual inhibition, but a 'habit' that would be broken under great stress--"
"Like seeing your father and the kid you think of as a son about to be killed?" Logan asked, and then his eyes widened. "Or fighting Apocalypse--"
"I would think the latter's what they had in mind. Something like this wouldn't have compromised the efficiency of their weapon," Jean said, biting off every word, "but it would certainly help to guard against him developing Stryfe-like tendencies. And if it didn't work, there was always Blaquesmith, who judging from his reaction to Nate Grey was all too ready to take more drastic steps if Nathan ever went 'rogue'." She sank her face into her hands. "This is all just a theory, mind you. I don't really want to believe it."
"And you certainly can't ask him about it," Logan said, gesturing towards the sleeping Nathan.
"No," she said almost wildly. "I couldn't. What would I say? Sorry, Nate, but it looks like Rachel never trusted you? That you were just a tool to her that she'd cheerfully manipulate if she thought it was neccessary? Damn it, if it's true, the Askani have used him as much as Sinister ever did!" Jean slumped in her chair, looking dispirited, and Logan realized for the first time that she was fairly tired herself.
"I can't believe she'd actually do something like that," Logan insisted. "I just can't. There has to be another explanation--"
"Like what?" Jean demanded exhaustedly. "Believe me, Logan, if you have a better explanation, I want to hear it!"
"What's all the shouting for?" Nathan asked in a fatigue-slurred voice, opening one eye to look at the two of them. Startled, Logan carefully put the memory of Jean's words into the most private part of his mind. He shot a quick look at Jean, wondering how her telepathic 'suggestion' had failed. But she didn't seem to be concerned.
"Go back to sleep," Jean said with a smile that seemed entirely natural. "Logan and I were just discussing politics." But Nathan pushed himself up to a sitting position, giving them both a disgusted look.
"Politics," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes like a sleepy kid. "Like Drake and Joseph screaming until all hours of the morning about hockey isn't bad enough." Blinking, he stared at the wall for a moment, and Logan thought he was dozing off again until he spoke. "Did I hear you say something about G.W. when we came in?"
Instead of answering, Logan switched to CNN. Nathan watched with a sort of half-interest. Jean sighed as she saw the footage of wounded SHIELD troops being med-evaced from the combat zone. They had been watching the special report for almost five minutes when the door opened again and Domino came in.
"You stood me up, Nate," she said mildly, going over and sitting beside him on the couch. "I thought we had an appointment in the Danger Room."
Nathan raised an eyebrow. "She's going to whip me back into shape," he confided in Logan. "Isn't that nice of her?"
"I'll pray for you, bub," Logan said, giving Domino a wicked look. She blushed quite prettily, and suddenly became very interested in the TV guide. Chuckling to himself, he glanced sideways at Jean. Does she know? he asked silently.
Jean's only answer was a deadpan look, and Logan snorted. Okay, dumb question. But he did wonder how Dom was going to keep it from Nate, when the two of them had a psi-link.
"I'm afraid it's my fault, Dom," Jean said easily, and Logan's eyes widened at her use of the nickname. Those two seem to be getting awfully chummy lately. No wonder Storm's so pissed off at Jean. He winced as he remembered that memorable discussion. No one to blame but yourself, old man. You didn't have to agree when Dom asked you to talk to her. "We were working," Jean continued, "and I lost track of time."
"No problem, Red," Dom said easily, and this time, Logan's eyebrows reached his hairline. "Any luck today?" Jean nodded, and Dom looked down at Nathan measuringly. "So how's the noise level?"
"Not bad," he admitted drowsily. "But if Cecilia and Drake don't stop snarling at each other and start saying what they're thinking, I vote we lock them in a room together and let nature take its course."
Logan nearly choked. He looked at Domino and Jean, both of whom were scarlet-cheeked. "Interesting idea," he finally managed to say. He tried to restrain his curiosity, but it got the better of him. "So, what are they thinking about?"
"I don't think that's any of our business!" Jean said loudly. She gave Nathan a reproving look. "Manners, Nathan."
He said something to her that made absolutely no sense, and she responded in the same fashion. "Dare I ask why the two of you are suddenly spouting gibberish?" Logan asked sarcastically.
"It's not gibberish," Jean said patiently. "It's Askani. And I'm not going to translate, Logan. You know how to swear in enough languages." She turned her attention back to Nathan, a strange smile on her face. "You know, what you're going through right now is what most telepaths face every day of their lives. The rest of us have always had a daily struggle to keep our defenses intact against the asault of outside thoughts. Yours is just an extreme case."
His expression lost some of its vagueness. "I was not pitying myself," he growled, glaring at her.
"I didn't say you were. I was just making a point," she said placidly. He continued to stare at her, and she sighed. "Oh, stop pouting."
"POUTING!" he shouted. Then he fell silent, his eyes narrowing. "Sneaky, Jean," he snarled.
Logan looked back and forth between them, not understanding what was going on. Domino had an odd little smile playing about her lips, though.
"She wanted to see if he lost his shields when he got angry," Dom explained, noticing his attention. "He didn't, and he realized what she was doing." She sounded almost proud.
Logan gave an explosive sigh. "And you told ME to leave him alone," he said, giving Jean a reproachful look. She shrugged.
"It does no good to test him when he's expecting it."
"Tests, tests, tests!" Nathan spat, sprawling back against the couch. "I am so sick of all these tests!"
"Then try not to half-kill yourself the next time you go off on a mission," Jean said in that same reasonable voice. "If you'd been a little more careful, none of this would be neccessary."
Nathan closed his eyes, quite clearly ignoring her. Jean's eyes narrowed for a moment, and Nathan nearly jumped off the couch. Logan started to feel quite indignant for Cable's sake.
"Not bad," Jean said, looking pleased. "They held that time. That's a definite improvement."
"Are we done now, or would you like to try that again?" he demanded, glaring at her. "If we're not, maybe you'd like to see why the Askani used to say the best defense is a good offense?" Realizing he meant it, Logan felt the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up. But Jean didn't respond to the challenge.
"We're done," she said softly. Something passed between them, and Nathan sighed and closed his eyes again, visibly relaxing. After a few minutes, his breathing had slowed to the regular rhythm of sleep once more. Domino gave Jean a troubled look.
"Do you have to be quite so hard on him?"
Jean sighed. "Do you think Bastion or Sinister or Apocalypse is going to be any easier on him? I'm not enjoying this, Dom."
Domino winced. "I know. It was a stupid question in the first place. I realize all this is neccessary. It's just--hard to watch him going through it," she finished in a subdued voice.
"The feeling is mutual, you know," Jean pointed out softly. She stared over at Nathan, tilting her head consideringly. "I think that little flash of temper we just saw was a good thing, though. I know he's been feeling frustrated, but he's never admitted it. And psionic shock this severe is just like any other serious injury in its emotional impact--"
The door opened again, and this time the new arrival was Scott. Jean rose to greet her husband, and Logan looked away, noticing the gleam of sympathy he saw when he met Dom's eyes briefly.
"So how is Regina doing?" Jean asked, returning to her chair. Scott glanced around the room, taking note of everything, and then sat down beside her.
"Pretty well, actually," he said. "Her power is remarkably versatile. We've been testing her ability to project more benevolent illusions. Sam and Kitty are playing guinea pigs, with Dana monitoring them in case things get out of hand. We took a break--Regina was starting to look a litle shaky." He gave his sleeping son an amused look. "I see she's not the only one who's had a rough morning."
"Rough but productive," Jean said, sounding satisfied. "I tried a probe--a gentle one, mind you--and his shields held." Scott looked pleased, and Logan suddenly realized that he didn't know about Jean's suspicions.
Secrets all around, then. But Logan wondered, not without a tinge of pleasure, why she'd chosen to confide in him and not Scott, who was, after all, Nate's father, and presumably had a better right to know.
"Actually, that brings to mind another issue," Jean said, giving Domino an intent look. "I don't want to pry, but have you decided to stay?" Domino flushed, glancing down at Nathan, and Jean sighed. "He's out like a light, Dom. He's not going to hear you."
Logan could see the conflict in Domino's eyes. "Maybe this is somethin' the two of you would like to talk over alone," he suggested, starting to rise from his chair.
"No," Domino suddenly said, shaking her head. She gave him a rueful smile. "I appreciate the offer, Logan, but it's not neccessary." She gave Jean a level look. "Before I answer, I want to know why you're asking." The corner of her mouth tugged upwards in a sardonic smile. "My presence here is--disruptive, to say the least. I'm sure you've noticed."
Scott suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I'm sure Ororo would come around--"
"I'm not," Logan said fervently, fighting the urge to rub his rear end. "Not after she chased me out of her room with a lightning bolt the other day--it's a damned good thing I've got a healing factor, or I wouldn't be sitting down for the next month."
"I heard about that," Domino said sheepishly. "I'm sorry, old man. If I'd known she would react like that, I wouldn't have asked you to talk to her."
"Ororo's behaviour is beside the point," Jean said flatly. "We've had worse personal conflicts among team members before--and anyways, I'm not asking you if you want to join up, Dom. Not at the moment, at least." She shot a quick look at her husband, as if challenging him to question her authority to do so. Scott raised a defensive hand.
"Jean, you know very well that I would be more than happy to have Nathan and Domino as team members--"
"I'm not sure Nate's temperamentally suited to be wearing an 'X'," Domino said wryly. "You and he'd probably do more butting heads than fighting for peaceful co-existence, Scott."
"What I'm asking is if you're planning to stay until he's recovered, at least," Jean continued inexorably, her green eyes like lasers. "You fill a very important role in that process, Dom. I don't think you realize how much he depends on you." Her expression softened. "Look, I know he doesn't remember what happened between the two of you when you went into his mind, but you must know how he feels about you--"
"You're preaching to the choir, Jean," Domino said quietly. Jean looked relieved. "I'm not going anywhere. I've run away from this--from him--too many times already." She looked down at Nathan, and the expression on her face was so complex that Logan felt like he was intruding just by being here. "If there's one thing he's taught me, it's that you shape reality by your actions. Anything else is just cowardice. If you just sit back and wait for the right time, it never comes." She chuckled. "Askani philosophy is usually too murky for me, but there are some parts of it that make perfect sense to me. I guess I've spent too many years with him."
Logan shook his head. Dom quoting Askani philosophy? Nate wasn't the only one who needed a nap.
***
G.W. Bridge sat down at his desk with a sigh. He'd gotten back home only a few hours ago, after the clean-up had been finished in Antarctica. Despite the success of the operation, he felt depressed. SHIELD losses had been heavy, and he honestly wondered what had actually been accomplished besides some good P.R. for the organization. Sure, they'd liberated the poor wretches the AIM scientists had been experimenting on, but they'd just set up shop elsewhere, away from SHIELD's eyes.
He switched on his computer, hoping to find a message from Dom. Even as the computer booted up, he felt a little foolish. She's not going to leave a message, you idiot. It would compromise the X-Men's security. She took enough of a risk letting me come with her rather than sneaking off and finding her way back to the mansion on her own.
"Wait a minute--" he muttered. There was a message, one that had been routed through so many different mailboxes that his security program was baffled. A grin grew on G.W.'s face as he saw that it was from an old friend of his by the name of Tamara Winters.
George, darling,
I've recently come to high estate. My latest conquest is from a rather eccentric family--widely traveled and unusually gifted, I'm SURE you know the sort. They have a certain charm, I must admit. I'm beginning to feel like I could be very happy here. As for my new amor--and I say new, though I feel like I've know him for years--I'm afraid I quite overwhelmed him at first. But he seems to be recovering nicely. I think this one's a keeper.
I hope to be making a visit to New York within the next few weeks. I'll drop you a line when I know for sure. Maybe I'll bring him along--I know you must be dying to meet the man who could sweep poor little me off my feet like this.
Much love,
Tamara
Carefully erasing the message, G.W. chuckled. He was relieved beyond words to hear that Nathan was recovering. It had been preying constantly on his mind for the last three weeks. Still, the rest of the message provided as much cause for celebration.
I always hoped the two of them would get their act together. I suppose they're both so stubborn that it would take a near-death experience to do it. But that business about liking his family? Dom as an X-Man? Strange thought.
A gentle rap came at the door. It opened and Valentina de Fontaine walked in, dressed casually. She carried a wine bottle and two glasses.
"Ah--to what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked cautiously. This was not characteristic behaviour for the Contessa.
"Well, I figured you'd be sitting here brooding--as you usually do after an operation--so I thought I'd give you some company," she said mildly, sitting down in the chair opposite his. "But you looked to be in a better mood than I anticipated. I'm assuming you got some good news about a friend whose name we won't mention, then?"
He scowled at her. "You are a snoop."
"Of course I am," she said with some surprise, opening the bottle. "It's part of the job description, G.W." She offered him a glass. He took it with a smile of thanks. It was a stellar vintage, of course. Valentina had impeccable taste when it came to things like wine--one of the many small ways in which she reminded him of Domino.
to be continued...
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