True Believers: Part Twenty-Four
"Kitty?" Pete asked, almost hesitantly. "You're being awfully quiet, Pryde--"
"It's a lot to absorb, Pete," she said softly, giving him an appraising look and noting his somber expression. It wasn't what she'd expected, after the matter-of-fact tone in which he'd explained the Record to her on the way down here, but it was reassuring. I don't like the idea of him being involved in something like this, but at least he's not being casual about it.
Pete muttered something under his breath. "A lot to absorb? That's putting it mildly," he grumbled, and started to examine the damaged console. They hadn't been back in the command center for five minutes before Dunworthy had asked Pete to check out a report of damage to the 'interface' room. Kitty had come along, seeing an opportunity to worm a few explanations out of him.
She hadn't expected this, though. She'd been involved in changing the future, when her older self had switched places with her to stop Senator Kelly's assassination and prevent that terrible future of Sentinels and Hounds and mutant concentration camps from coming to pass. Cable's future, by all accounts, was every bit as bad, if not worse. If a secret 'war' fought by the plan laid out in the Record was the only way to stop it--Kitty shook her head, still feeling disturbed. It was so easy to resort to the whole 'ends justifies the means' argument. Too easy. And some of what Pete had told her was so horrible--
"How much have you had to do with this?" she asked him, the question coming out with more of a snap than she'd intended. He turned back towards her, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards in a humorless smile. But he answered her question readily enough.
"Not much. Dunworthy doesn't trust me, particularly--"
"Oh, really?" she asked sardonically. "I hadn't noticed--"
"So I've been more or less kept out of that end of the operation," he continued, as if she hadn't interrupted--although she did catch a flicker of amusement in his blue eyes at her words. It vanished as quickly as it had come, though, that bleakness returning like a shadow to take its place. "Oh, I've done the odd job here and there. Nothing particularly important--'critical' is the term they use for events that cause a significant variation in the original timeline." Kitty blinked, a little surprised at how easily Pete slipped into the jargon. "Nothing like that--nothing that would keep me awake at night, wondering if I'd done the right thing--" He gave a flat, harsh laugh. "Got enough of those regrets in 'real life', Pryde." He ran a hand over the console, shaking his head slowly. "No--it's mostly Dunworthy's hand-picked operatives. And Nate. He used to take a lot of the Record missions."
"Used to?" Kitty asked, regarding Pete intently. "He doesn't anymore?" That struck her as a rather significant revelation.
Pete leaned back against the console, studying her with a troubled expression. "Not for years," he said grimly. "Not since--" He visibly bit back whatever he'd been about to say, and then continued, so obviously shifting the subject that Kitty's curiosity was piqued. "He always ended up with the--really bad ones, Pryde." Kitty shuddered inwardly, knowing what they must have been like to earn that sort of description from Pete, of all people. "I don't know why. Maybe he thought it wasn't fair to ask someone else to do them, or maybe it was his way of punishing himself for--well, never mind that. He hated it, Kitty; hated it like poison. Bloody hell, I was surprised that he kept at it as long as he did." He shrugged. "Guess he thought the end justified the means, or something."
Hearing Pete echo her thoughts of a moment ago was peculiarly unnerving, and Kitty shifted her weight, chewing on her lower lip. "What do you think of it?" she asked him bluntly. "The Record, I mean."
Pete winced, but answered her question. "Dunworthy's got this bloody quotation from a poem she likes--something about roads diverging in the woods."
"Robert Frost," Kitty said. "'Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference'?"
"That's it," Pete grumbled. "Pretty, noble words for an ugly idea, Kitty." He sighed again. "I just wish I could convince myself it was wrong. Would be a lot easier, that way."
"Necessary evils?" Kitty asked quietly.
"You just cut right to the heart of most 'practical' Askani philosophy, Kitty," Pete said, bending over to pick up the chair lying on the floor. He blinked at it for a minute. "This ain't damage from the wave," he frowned. "Someone ripped the bloody thing off its base." He set the chair back down again, and then scowled at the console. "Friggin' weird, this is--"
"Pete?" Rebecca's voice came from an undamaged speaker on the console. She sounded irritated. "I can't--what's wrong with the projector in here?"
"Looks like someone decided to remodel the place, love," Pete said dryly, and Kitty shook her head with a faint smile. The Record might be troubling her, but Rebecca's story was really quite intriguing. Kitty suspected that she and the ghost/operating system would have a great deal to talk about, once time allowed. "Didn't think recreational activities ran to vandalism around here anymore--"
"Oh, dear." Now Rebecca sounded worried. "I left Nathan in here with Domino."
Pete said something very vile under his breath, and Kitty gave him a worried look. He covered up his initial reaction swiftly, though. "Any idea where they are now, 'Becca?" he asked almost casually.
There was silence for a moment. "Domino is in the living quarters. The bio-readings I'm getting from her look normal."
"And Nate?"
"In the armory. Bio-readings from him are--what's the phrase Melinda uses all the time? 'Whacked out'? But that's not anything new. They were just as bad when I scanned him back in the command center when I came back on line." Rebecca hesitated, and then continued in a determined voice. "Pete, someone's got to convince him to stay here. He can't go with the rest of you tonight, you've got to know that--"
"I don't think we want to get started telling him what he can and can't do again," Pete said, sounding oddly angry. Not with Rebecca, Kitty realized as she got a closer look at his expression. "Didn't turn out so bloody well, the last time."
Rebecca blinked. "Last time?" Pete didn't volunteer to explain, and she regarded him for a long moment, obviously puzzled. "All it would take," she finally said in a very small voice, "is one Dark Rider and one lucky shot."
"Yeah, well, luck's on our side, this time," Pete said, staring pensively at the chair and the shattered console. "Or at least, she was," he murmured in a voice so low that Kitty almost didn't hear him.
***
"Oh my God!"
It was a woman's voice, coming from what seemed like very far away. Tyris realized dizzily that she was lying sprawled on the ground--the very cold ground. Pain raced through her body as she tried to move, and she slumped back to the ground with a moan. She couldn't see straight--there was blood running into her eyes from somewhere.
"Oh my God!" The woman's voice sounded closer, now, panicked and remorseful. "She came out of nowhere! Right onto the road!"
"Calm down, Mary." This new voice was deep and level, despite the tension Tyris heard in it. She sensed, rather than saw the man kneel down beside her. "Miss?" he said gently, touching her shoulder lightly. "Miss, can you hear me?"
Her mind seemed to be working sluggishly, as if her thoughts were trying to race each other through thick mud. Images flashed through her mind's eye. Hana--the mission--the anomaly--Sanctity! Tyris struggled to sit up, ignoring the pain and the man's protests. She couldn't stay here! Sanctity might return, and her defenses were weak, too weak--she needed to find somewhere safe, people who would help her! Otherwise her mission was in jeopardy, and she couldn't allow that, couldn't let Hana run free with no one to stand against her--
The man took in her appearance, looking startled and a little afraid. It occured to her that her clothing and her prosthetic eye had to look VERY odd to a native of this era. "Miss, you're hurt," he said unsteadily. Tyris gave him a blank look, not understanding why he seemed to be trying to help her. He watched her for a moment longer, and then. The fear she was sensing from him faded. "Try not to move," he said, obviously trying to be reassuring. He glanced back over his shoulder at the woman. "Mary, use my cell phone and call for help."
It didn't matter. She had to get out of here. Tyris finally managed to push herself up to a sitting position. The man gave a startled gasp, and then took her by the shoulders, supporting and restraining her at the same time. "You need to stay still," he said slowly, as if he thought she was in shock and couldn't understand what he was saying.
Maybe she was. But her mind had latched on to one word. Need. That was the answer. Just like Hana-- Tyris closed her eyes, concentrating desperately. She had navigated her way through intense temporal disruption to get here--a simple teleportation should be easier. It had to be.
Need. She needed to get out of here, needed to find help.
Needed to save herself, so that she could protect HIM.
With all the strength she could muster, she wrenched away from her rescuer, deliberately breaking the physical contact, and teleported.
***
Marrow brushed wet hair away from her face and scowled up at the sky. "Rain," she muttered. "Hate rain." She didn't quite know what she was doing out here. But she just hadn't been able to stand being in the mansion anymore, or even in the tunnels. Sure, she hadn't been able to hear the storm down there, but she'd FELT it. There was so much pressure in the air inside, she was afraid the place was going to come crashing in on top of her.
She couldn't stay out here for very much longer, Marrow knew. The storm was just getting worse. Grimacing, she turned to head back to the mansion. Stupid Bishop, flying through this, she thought. Did time travel do something to a person's brain? Him and Cable made a real pair.
Just as she came out of the woods and started across the lawn to the house, she was blinded by a flash of purple light, dazzling even in the dark of the storm. Stumbling backwards with a curse, Marrow pulled a pair of bone knives free, falling into a defensive position.
But when her vision cleared, she realized swiftly that the person who had just appeared--people teleporting, popping in and out all over the place--makes my skin crawl!--was no threat to her, or anyone else.
"You an Askani?" Marrow shouted over the howl of the wind as she knelt down beside the woman sprawled on the wet ground. Sure looks like the others-- Askani or not, she was hurt, and hurt bad. Blood covered the side of her face, and she was half-curled on her side, clutching her ribs with one arm.
The woman tried to focus on her, her lips forming words that Marrow couldn't hear over the storm, and then passed out. Marrow muttered a curse, and then hesitantly reached out to feel for a pulse at the woman's throat.
She snatched her hand away immediately. The woman's skin was hot to the touch, burning hot. Marrow's eyes narrowed as she remembered Cable being in the same condition. Was it for the same reason? She did just teleport, Marrow reminded herself. Maybe with all the weird stuff going on, something had gone wrong.
Marrow sighed. Stupid X-Men, she thought balefully. Life had been much more fun back in the days when she could have just turned her back on a dying upworlder and gone on her way. She leaned over the Askani. "I'll go get help," she said, feeling a little awkward, talking to someone who was unconscious. Wasn't as if the Askani could HEAR her, after all--but she felt like she had to say something. "Don't--go and disappear or anything."
***
Sitting alone in the control room, in front of one of the consoles, Kevin Parrish considered the situation. He could remember, very vaguely, his long-dead mother telling him to always look on the bright side of life. She'd died, trying to protect him and Melinda from their father. After that, life HADN'T had a bright side, not for years. Not until the day Nathan had killed their father and freed them.
There'd been hard times since then, of course, but he couldn't ever remember feeling more helpless--or more frustrated, than he did now. The Black Mountains station was certainly not one of the most important in the network--the bulk of the station chiefs and Dunworthy herself were still suspicious enough of him that giving him too much authority was out, from their perspective--but it was his station. The people in it were his people, and, at the moment, both station and people were far more vulnerable than he liked.
He heard the door hiss as it slid open. "Kevin?" Angharad's voice called.
"In here," he called back, not moving away from the console, He jumped slightly as Angharad glided soundlessly up behind him and laid her hands on his shoulders.
"I finally convinced the children to get some rest," she said softly. "Jelena seems to be calming down--she's helping Rolf with the diagnostics on the core. Ambrose and the others are securing the perimeter."
"Good," he said absently, knowing from the tone of her voice that she had more to tell him. "And?"
She sighed. "We still haven't managed to restore contact with London--not even a com-channel, let alone the tactical link. None of the other stations are answering, either."
"Why the hell not?" he muttered, staring at the mostly-dark console. He wished he knew what had hit them. Whatever it was, it hadn't been a momentary thing. It still seemed to be interfering with ALL of their systems. They couldn't even get sensors back on line to figure out what might be causing it. If the other stations were all in the same state--it wasn't a pleasant thought. That's all we need in the middle of a crisis, the whole network shut down. What the hell could have had such an effect? Or was it something specific to HIS station? the paranoid part of him wondered darkly. He had been personally targeted before. So had Mel. Apocalypse didn't like 'defectors'.
Angharad started to massage his shoulders lightly. "Easy, love," she said with the faintest hint of a laugh in her voice. "We're running at what, ten percent already? We don't need you getting irritated and doing in the little that IS working. One little ripple of displacement--"
"I beg your pardon, angel," he scoffed, craning his heck around and giving her a mock-offended look. As always, it was impossible to continue brooding when she was giving him that particular look. "I have my mutant power perfectly under control. Unlike SOME people, who can go to sleep with a potted plant beside their bed and wake up in a jungle."
She blushed quite prettily. Even under the circumstances, Kevin couldn't repress a smile. "That," she said severely, "was not entirely my fault, Parrish. Remember what we were doing that night? So I got a little--distracted. Can you blame me?"
Kevin's smile grew into a grin. "The fun never stops when you're with a woman who can literally make the earth move," he teased.
***
Hana raised an eyebrow as Raul Olivares cursed and slammed a fist into the wall. "That stupid, stupid woman!" he roared. "What does she think she's doing? This is NOT how to handle this situation! The tactical net could be completely compromised, for all she knows!"
"This--Dunworthy?" Hana inquired lightly, hovering at his shoulder. The rest of the personnel here in the command center of the Paris station were quite noticeably keeping their distance. Hana reached out to them briefly, smiling inwardly to find out that Olivares' rage was not an uncommon state for him. Anger is always a vulnerability, she thought in amusement. Righteous or otherwise, always a weakness--
"Yes, Dunworthy!" He spat a few curses in some contempoary language she didn't know--the emotions behind them were perfectly clear, however. Hana folded her arms across her chest, smiling faintly, and was distinctly pleasedwhen he suddenly turned to her, looking almost embarassed. "I should not be indulging my temper like that in front of you," he said stiffly.
"I've seen people lose their temper before--Raul," she said, deliberately using his first name even as she reached out empathically and 'encouraged' him to think that he was rightfully angry, and that she wouldn't even dream of disapproving. Not in so many words, of course; she did it all with delicate shades of emotion, carefully measured and applied to influence him with deftness. "But perhaps you should leave your subordinates to this," she continued, gesturing around at the half-dark command center. "I realize how important the proper functioning of your station is to you--" She projected approval, and warmth, "but I must soon return to my mission. And I fear I may need your assistance--" Reluctance to ask for help; determination to finish what she was sent to do; and strong, strong disapproval directed at Dayspring, to play to Olivares' simmering resentment. No musician could have woven harmonies as effectively as the tapestry of emotions she could create.
He straightened. "Of course," he said bluntly. "Whatever you need," He gestured towards the door. "Shall we speak in private?"
"That would be wisest," Hana said, and directed a beaming smile at the others in the command center. "I certainly do not mistrust any of you," she said in a louder voice, "but there are other forces at work here. The fewer people who know the details, the better."
"No need to explain to them," Olivares said gruffly, giving his people a warning look, as if to suggest that there had better not be any need. No one spoke, or so much as frowned.
"Ah," Hana said, projecting her respect for how he handled authority at him. He straightened, visibly puffing up with pride, and it took all the self-control she had not to laugh.
Oh, this was too, too easy.
***
"The t-test results, my lady," the chief technician said in a quavering voice. Golden gave him a cold look, and he squirmed. It was exactly the response she was trying to get; she certainly didn't want him to think she'd FORGIVEN him, or anything ridiculous like that. No, the accident was his fault, for not supervising his people more closely, and if Apocalypse decided punishment was in order for her over this matter, she knew damned well who she would kill before submitting to her own fate.
With shaking hands, he activated the holo-display, and Golden forced herself to turn her attention to the data laid out before her. Taking it all in, she raised an eyebrow, honestly surprised.
"There's been no damage to the machine?" She whirled on the tech. "Are you sure?" she asked urgently.
"Y-Yes, my lady," he quavered, very noticeably keeping his eyes averted from hers. Frowning, Golden dampened her power. She hadn't realized she'd been projecting so much. "We've tested all the c-components separately, and they all seem to be function. We'll h-have to run another full test to make sure, but the distortion caused by the accident m-might actually work to our favor."
"How so?" she asked quizzically.
"With the b-base continuum unstable, the machine won't need as much power to remove--"
Golden waved a hand. "Save me the technical details," she interrupted brusquely, even as a wild surge of hope lept within her. If there was actually unforeseen advantages from the accident, she had a very good chance of surviving this near-disaster intact. "Run another full test--and pray that everything works. Otherwise, I can guarantee you that this is the last day you will ever see."
She didn't make idle threats. The chief tech knew that very well, and bleated terrified reassurances as he scuttled away to begin the test sequence.
Golden sighed, running her hands through her hair. "Oh, my love," she whispered, thinking of Vandal, so far in away in London, readying himself for the inevitable attack to come. "How did I EVER let you talk me into volunteering for this?"
***
Cable glanced around the station infirmary warily. It appeared to be empty, and it certainly felt like a 'blank spot' . Harder to tell, here, he acknowledged bleakly. There wasn't as much background noise in the immediate vicinity, so silent spaces weren't as obvious.
Sneaking around-- he thought with a trace of bitterness, stopping and laying a hand against the wall for support as another dizzy spell hit. Carmen would certainly get a kick out of this. And I don't even want to THINK what Dom would say--
Dom. The thought made him hesitate. Why was he worrying? he asked himself with a sudden, feeble flicker of anger. She'd made herself perfectly clear, back in the interface room. He'd given her what she wanted, hadn't he? Sealed the psi-link, just as she'd asked--he didn't have to take her reaction into account anymore. The only shame would be in not going on this mission, in ducking his responsibility simply because he was feeling under the weather--
#Oh, Nathan. If I were corporeal, I'd applaud,# came a sardonic voice in his mind.
Cable froze, and slowly, very slowly, turned to look at the transparent partition just across from him. His reflection, faint but clear, was grinning at him. He managed to stifle his gasp, just before it broke free. Not again, he thought wildly. What the hell is it with me and reflective surfaces these days?
#Quite an impressive exercise in rationalization,# Stryfe's voice continued amusedly. #You should give lessons.#
Cable realized he was trembling. This wasn't happening. It wasn't real. Flashbacks were one thing--this, THIS was too much. Instinctively, desperately, he started to reach out for Dom's presence, like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline, but forced himself to stop before he could even begin to unseal the psi-link. A hallucination, just a hallucination--that's all this was. He didn't need to go running to Dom for reassurance.
He didn't. He could handle this on his own.
Admittedly, it would be a little easier if his legs didn't feel like they were going to give way at any moment.
"Go--away," he said in a shaking voice. "You're not real."
#Of course not, I'm just a figment of your imagination.# Stryfe gave a malicious laugh. #Maybe the drug you should be looking for is an anti-psychotic, rather than a stimulant. But seriously now, Nathan--#
Before his knees buckled, Cable slid down the wall into a sitting position. "Shut up, shut up--" he whispered desperately, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. That took care of the reflection, but the voice itself was inescapable.
#Stop sniveling,# Stryfe said, sounding almost petulant. #You're supposed to be brimming with defiance and telling me to burn in hell. Otherwise, it's no fun.#
#SHUT UP!!!# Cable shouted telepathically, and nearly cried out at the indescribable pain that exploded inside his skull. Stupid--stupid! he thought in agony, fighting for composure. Eventually the pain ebbed, just enough to let him think again. He forced himself to breathe more slowly, trying to ignore the sound of his own heart thudding frantically, as if it was trying to burst out of his chest.
#Yes, quite stupid,# Stryfe said casually, after a short silence. If Cable hadn't known better, he would have thought that Stryfe had deliberately given him enough time to recover before continuing. #Directing a telepathic blast at yourself when you have no shields is generally not a good idea. Didn't that witch you married teach you ANYTHING, Nathan?#
Cable opened his eyes, angrily wiping away a few stray tears of pain. "I was talking to you, you bastard," he said hoarsely, ignoring the insult to Aliya. Hallucination or not, he wasn't going to rise to the bait.
His reflection raised an eyebrow. #And where do you think I AM, Dayspring?# Stryfe asked with a smirk. #I'm dead, remember? Nothing but a shadow at the back of your mind--#
"I never knew shadows talked so much," Cable said through gritted teeth, and moaned inwardly as Stryfe laughed again. The sound shredded at his self-control with icy talons, pulling him towards the edge of a bottomless abyss. He had heard that laughter in his nightmares for so many years--maybe this WAS a nightmare. Maybe if he pinched himself, he'd wake up back at Phillip and Deborah's in Alaska to find that none of this had happened--
#Oh, it's quite real, Nathan. Me, all of it. Want proof?#
This time, his moan was aloud, and Cable stiffened, every muscle in his body clenching in instinctive revulsion as he sensed a familiar presence in his mind, a tarnished glow with an acid edge that scorched him right to the core.
He wasn't alone.
It was real.
Or this was one hell of a hallucination. It didn't matter. He couldn't let it matter. Clinging to that mantra like a lifeline, he used the wall for support as he pulled himself back to his feet. "Go flonq yourself," he snarled, and made his unsteady way across the medlab.
The sense of presence faded slightly, and Cable sensed--frustration? #I still can't quite believe you've 'stooped' to this,# Stryfe said almost conversationally. #Aliya would be so disappointed.#
"How the hell would you know?" Cable muttered, stopping in front of the right 'cabinet' and entering the lock code into the keypad. "I doubt you took the time to have a conversation with her, somehow--" He lurched forward, gasping, as another memory reached up from the depths of his mind and pulled him in--
--"Jen!" A howl torn from his soul as he tore his way through the Canaanite base, scanning desperately for her, for even the faintest trace of her presence on their psi-link. Pulling her location from the mind of the Elite captain, so brutally that he left nothing but gibbering madness in his wake. Finding her cell, opening the door to find his wife, the woman he loved, the other half of his soul, lying on the floor, battered and bloodied, her clothes in tatters. Kneeling down beside her to gather her in his arms and take her out of this place. The way she screamed and flinched away from him. Reaching out to touch her mind, to calm her, and seeing it all, seeing what Stryfe had done to her--
The flashback loop ended, and he shuddered, trying to shake the images. Jen--oh, Jen--
Stryfe didn't seem to have noticed anything amiss. #Well, don't the Askani preach 'purity of the body'?# he asked mockingly. #And teach all those charming little meditative techniques and biofeedback tricks to AVOID the necessity of having to drug yourself when you're 'ailing'?#
The memory of helplessness, of pain for her pain, suddenly hardened into anger. "Funny you should mention necessity," Cable spat, wiping at his eyes again as he studied the contents of the cabinet with some frustration. Color-coded hyposprays, neatly arranged in holders. Now, if he could just remember which color stood for what--oath, most of the people around here would probably jump for joy if he accidentally sedated himself. "That's why I'm doing this. I have to be there, I have--" He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as another dizzy spell hit.
Stryfe seemed to ignore him. #Not to mention how much you disliked Haight's beserkers. Remember, Nathan? How you used to look down at them for the--pharmaceutical source of their battle rage, shall we say?#
"Shut up," Cable muttered faintly, trying to reason it all out. Why did he get the impression that Stryfe was trying to convince him not to do this? More than a little bizarre, really--
Stryfe, surprisingly enough, did shut up. Cable stared at the rows of hyposprays, trying to remember. This was maybe not such a good idea, he thought with a sigh.
He heard the hiss of the door as it slid open, and he whirled, far too quickly, almost losing his balance. Only a wild grab for the door of the cabinet saved him from going to his knees. Fortunately, it was sturdy enough to hold his weight for the moment it took him to regain some semblance of balance.
The motherly-looking brunette who'd just walked in gave him a quizzical look, which grew faintly alarmed as she took in the rest of the scene. "Nathan, cher, is there some reason you are raiding my infirmary?" Josephine Vaneau, the station's medic, asked in her soft voice. Nothing even slightly accusatory about the question, Cable noted. I must look REALLY bad.
#So?# Stryfe asked in a sneering tone. #What are you going to tell her, Nathan?#
Cable took a deep breath. "Looking for something," he said raggedly, answering Josephine's question. It had really been HER he'd been trying to avoid on this errand. When it came to her medical duties, the usually soft-spoken Frenchwoman was a tyrant. She was also fearsomely competent, which is why Dunworthy had transferred her here, but the two of them had always butted heads frequently. Jo didn't approve of the general disregard for safety and 'the mission above all' element of Dunworthy's philosophy.
Or of his, Nathan reminded himself. Which meant she was liable to be--less than sympathetic to the plan he had in mind. Oath, why couldn't she have stayed away for a few more minutes--?
Shaking her head slowly, Josephine walked across the room to him and took his wrist, checking his pulse. She muttered a curse under her breath in French, and then reached out and laid a cool hand against his forehead. He flinched away, and she frowned, worry in her dark eyes.
"Mon Dieu, Nathan," she said with a heavy sigh. "What was Dunworthy thinking of, to bring you here when you are in this kind of condition? I cannot imagine what you could possibly contribute, unwell as you are."
Cable tried to smile. The expression had to look pretty strange, because her frown only grew. "Necessity and all that," he said, leaning back against the wall. "Don't count me out yet, Jo."
"Merde," she muttered, and looked past him at the open cabinet. "Looking for something," she repeated, shaking her head again. "There is a lock on that cabinet for a reason, Nathan. And I do not approve of self-medication."
"Jo--" He swallowed, and continued, banishing any hint of a plea from his voice. "I have to go on this mission tonight," he said flatly, blinking down at her. Her face blurred briefly in his vision, and his jaw clenched involuntarily. He squinted down at her. "I HAVE to, Jo," he continued, as forcefully as he could. "But I obviously can't, like this."
Josephine was silent for a long, long moment, studying him as if she was measuring him by some standard of her own. He wished he dared 'lean' on her, to telepathically encourage her to see things his way, but from the feel of his head, he didn't dare.
She looked away for a moment, and when she turned back to him, he frowned. Her eyes were suspiciously bright. "Non, obviously you cannot, 'like this'," she said softly, and then reached past him, pulling out a hypospray coded pale blue and making a few adjustments to the dosage. "Take it," she said, her usually melodic voice curiously hoarse. "It is a stimulant. The strongest one I have, considering your metabolism.
"Thank you--" he started, but she shook her head, a quick, angry movement.
"Do not," she said tautly. Those were tears in her eyes, he realized, feeling an odd, wrenching pain in his chest at the realization. "Do you have any idea how weary I am, Nathan, of watching you all leave for these missions--of having to put the pieces back together when one of you comes back injured? And to see you now, already so ill and yet so determined that you must do this thing--" She swallowed. "Sometimes I truly hate this life."
"You're not the only one," he whispered.
Her smile was bitter as she placed the hypospray into his hand. "It should last for--ten hours, perhaps. Afterwards, mon cher, you will--what is the word--crash, yes? This buys you time, nothing more. And it will not help you with your shields, so do not look for assistance in that quarter."
Cable winced. "Is there anyone in this station Shavrin didn't fill in regarding my 'condition'?" he asked wearily.
"I would not know," Josephine said, visibly struggling for composure. "You must promise me that you will eat a decent meal and try to get some rest before tonight, Nathan," she said insistently. He nodded hurriedly, not wanting to pursue the subject. Although, if he knew her like he thought he did, she'd make sure he held up his end of the bargain. And Josephine was a hard person to ignore when she was in a crusading mood. "I hope what you and the others do tonight is worth such a risk, Nathan," she continued, almost brusquely
His hand closed around the hypospray. "So do I, Jo," he said quietly.
Stryfe didn't say a word.
to be continued...
[FOOTER]