xp_logs | 'A Mirror, Darkly', 2/2

Nathan wakes up on the Blackbird on the way north to the camp to find out that everyone's all right. It turns out he learned more in that moment by the pool than he realized.

His head hurt. It was the first coherent thought he had. The second was that the sound in the background was almost certainly the Blackbird's engines, and Nathan forced his eyes open, staring up at the cabin ceiling for a moment as it went in and out of focus. Headache or not, he could sense the closest presence, and he pushed himself up on his elbows with a wince, blinking at Alison.

"Everyone okay?" he asked hoarsely.

"Yeah." She was strapped in, albeit loosely so, in the observation chair next to him, legs stretched out before her. "We're all good. Lorna's contemplating giving you permanent metal bracelets I think, though. If I hear the grumbling right." Alison smiled just a bit, slowly moving her head to the side, stretching tension away from her neck slowly. "And Haroun patched in to the police frequencies. No civilians got hurt, it's mostly just massive property damage."

Nathan let his breath out on a sigh. "Good," he muttered. "That's good." He managed to muster enough coordination to undo the single strap around his waist - the edges of the gurney were raised to prevent any wayward patients from sliding off in normal flight, but extra precautions never hurt. Sitting up slowly, he winced again as the plane seemed to spin around him. His rebelling stomach, he told to stay precisely where it was. His head was throbbing in time with his pulse. He hated when it did that. "What happened to Gideon?"

She narrowed her eyes as he pushed himself into a sitting position, but didn't comment. "We managed to distract him enough to get you out of his range. He caused some confusion as cover and left after that." She'd cleared the area and only Cain had been present for the actual confrontation... witnesses would still be enough for the team to eventually connect the dots, she knew, if they hadn't started to already now that things were quieter, but for now it was up to Cain to decide on how to progress on matters. "We may have a general estimate as to his synching range now. Nothing precise but it's something. Touch seems to make the synching easier for him, too."

Nathan blinked, then laid a hand on his shoulder. It hurt too, as if all the nerves were hypersensitized. "Everything felt heavy, when he touched me," he murmured. "Couldn't see straight, either... although I don't know how much of that was not being able to breathe." He looked up at Alison. "He was using my telekinesis better than I can."

She raised an eyebrow at that, not looking happy in the least. "He set you on fire and stopped you from breathing? Son of a..." she trailed off at that, not looking sheepish as she normally might have. "Haroun hit the hotel security system, to see what we might salvage video wise, but I'm not holding out much hope for it. With everything that was going on and Lorna using her power like that, I'm willing to bet the tapes are slagged."

Nathan took a deep, experimental breath. The dizziness was ebbing a little - just a little. But any improvement was good. "Testing me," he muttered. "He was testing me, trying to draw out my reactions, see what sort of tactical choices I made, what kind of control I had."

Somehow, this rang too closely to Mistra for Alison to take it well. Keeping a careful eye on him, noting that he was actually starting to look steadier, she kept any decision as to his presence on the actual mission itself in reserve, still. "He wasn't going full out at any time that I could tell, no. He... certainly seemed comfortable with your abilities. Didn't try to synch to either Lorna or myself." She allowed herself a small smile though. Grim satisfaction, that Cain had likely been a rather nasty surprise for the man.

"I wonder if he can only synch to one person at a time." Nathan swallowed, rubbing at his shoulder. "Didn't sense him coming before he showed up... he must have synched to my telepathy first, while he was still out of sight." The arm seemed to be working just fine, at least. "There was more," he muttered, trying to remember. "When he touched me, I could see his thoughts... he was shielding, but something changed as soon as we were in physical contact... I was seeing my mind reflected in his, but his thoughts were there, too..."

"Here, let me." Sighing a bit, Alison reached forward, placing one hand flatly against the back of his shoulder to brace it while prodding carefully at the shoulder itself. If he yelped, he was staying back in the plane with Shiro to coordinate. If he had any of the classic signs of a migraine, she was likely to hold him back too, at that. "And you're starting to talk in Charles talk now. Damn it. Knew he was contagious." Her lips quirked a bit and she shook her head at him. "You're losing me with the mirror talk, just a bit. Try explaining it to me in baby talk?"

Nathan bit his lip, but very deliberately didn't flinch. The pain wasn't sharp, in any case. The shoulder just... ached. "Like a one-way mirror, where the lights get turned on suddenly in the room on the other side of the glass. One minute, you're just staring at yourself, and then all of a sudden you see someone watching you..." He shivered suddenly, a reaction that had nothing to do with the cool air of the cabin. "Then I think I hit my head. So I didn't get as close a look as I should have..."

"You know, I was kidding on Wednesday when I was talking about the no brain leaking being a fluke," she said mildly. His shoulder wasn't making any odd sounds, nor were any of the muscle groups behaving oddly. "This'll probably be stiff tomorrow, but in general I'd think you'll be fine." She pulled back, leaning slowly in her seat. "Think you can do one of the meditation self-checks that you told me you had, to see how the head is doing?"

He mustered a tired smile. "I'll have to, won't I? If I don't want to be sitting on the plane with Shiro while the rest of you are getting those kids out..." He trailed off, staring not quite at her but almost through her, all of his attention clearly going inwards. "He wasn't going to warn them," he said suddenly. "He... told me that." Nathan flushed suddenly, his hands clenching and unclenching. "Just in that moment, when I was just about completely out of it. Mind-to-mind. He knows we're going after the camp but he's not going to warn them, because he wants to see what we do."

"Well." There was a long pause at that, Alison thinking that particular statement over. "May want to see if you can make sure that's all he saw, while he was borrowing your telepathy." Gideon had more reason than Nathan knew to stay away from the camp. She wasn't going to bet he wasn't going to warn them, though. Not that. "We'll go in under the assumption that he has, though."

Nathan nodded tightly. They couldn't assume anything. He shivered again, realizing that the starry sky at the back of his mind was... more or less absent of stars. "The Askani are gone again," he said, bleakly and yet somehow absently. "They saw what he is."

Sighing softly, Alison patted his shoulder again, carefully so. "What he is, or what he might be?" Shrugging a bit, she shook her head. "Just asking, since he seemed to trigger that big precognitive episode for you the first time. And hey - they came back that time..." She paused at that, as though to say something else, but then offered him what she hoped was a reassuring smile instead.

Nathan took another deep breath, letting it out. "I messed up," he muttered. "The fire... I tried to push it away by pushing the oxygen away. And then he kept it away."

The patting on his shoulder stopped suddenly, Alison gaping at him. "...you what?"

"It was too fast," he protested. "The fire was all inside my shields, Alison, I had to kill it fast." He looked away from her stunned look, not really wanting to deal with a lecture at this juncture. "It should have been just a momentary thing," he muttered. "A whole lot more reliable than dumping the contents of the pool on top of myself. But he watched, and he kept the oxygen away."

Well, it wasn't as though he'd ever do that again, she reflected a bit numbly. "Okay." No blinking and boggling and asking him why he'd thought pushing away air was a good thing. Somehow. "Something to remember next time we meet up with the guy." Because it wasn't though as there was any doubt of that at least.

Nathan sighed, letting his head sag forward for a moment as he gathered the rest of his composure. "He told me I was meant to use the water," he muttered. "Son of a bitch. I wish I'd been faster."

A short nod answered him - there wasn't much they could do now for a full debrief, not with her comm calling for her attention. And there would be one later, though. No doubt about that. "Nothing to do about that just now. And we do have something else to do, and then some." She rose to her feet, glancing towards the exit towards the main cargo hold and the cockpit door beyond. "Take the time left to rest up and take stock of how you're doing. We'll see how you are when we land, okay?"

~*~

During the flight, a restless Domino officially meets Lorna for the first time. Lorna is keeping busy in the constructive sort of way.

There was entirely too much room on this plane. If this had been a helicopter, she wouldn't have had the room to pace around, but no, it had to be a fricking jet. After her third circuit around the cargo hold, Domino emerged to see Lorna calmly checking the medical equipment.

"Need a hand?" she asked hopefully.

Lorna glanced over her shoulder and looked at the other woman for a moment then stepped to one side to give her room. "Sure. I'm nearly done but a second set of eyes is always good."

"Hopefully we won't need any of it. Although I noticed Nate raided the cold packs already. Guess having his head bounced off the pavement isn't as much par for the course for him as it used to be. He was practically pouting." They had a very complete set of medical supplies here, Domino noticed. "So are you doing this because it needs doing, or because it's something to do?"

Lorna shrugged. "Yes," she said simply. Lorna didn't like being bounced off the pavement anymore than Nathan did and being ripped out of her shielding wasn't much fun either. "Is that a box of gloves open?"

"Yeah. Looks almost full, too," Domino said, handing the box over as Lorna reached out for it. "The plane's going to be crowded, coming back, if... when we get all twenty kids out."

Lorna smiled without much humor, "We'll find places for them all, no worries about that. We'll just let some of the guys hitch rides back home." She checked off a few more items on the supply list. "If we toss Cain out, that's like five more kids that'll fit right there."

"I guess we're supposed to be dropping them across the border in Niger with that contact of the Professor's. I'll have to remember to give the guy all the info we have on Mangar's family so that he can stage-manage that particular reunion." She glanced down at the grass bracelet on her wrist, sighing a bit shakily. "That was my 'pay', from his mother," she said, showing it to Lorna. "For going looking for him, I mean."

Lorna reached out and touched the grass bracelet gently. "I'll help make sure you earn it." She smiled, "By the way, I don't think we've ever actually been introduced. I'm Lorna."

"Dom. Domino. Well, neither, really, but you can call me Dom." And okay, she was doing a very bad impression of someone who had it together. Time to focus on the nice medical supplies.

"Okay, Dom it is." Lorna let her check the rest of the supplies in. She seemed like she needed the distraction much more than Lorna did. Besides that, there were always the rations to check next.

~*~

Shortly afterwards, Cain and Domino get a chance to catch up, and Domino finds out a little more about why Cain is there, and vice versa.

There really was nothing left to be done with the medical supplies, and counting rations was a one-woman job, so Domino left Lorna to it and wandered forward restlessly. Cain was sitting on one of the benches and she flopped down next to him. "I think there's such a thing as providing too much intelligence in certain situations," she said. "Don't you? Imagine if I'd kept my mouth shut about those bastards at the hotel. We could have been waiting up north to go into the camp, instead of leaving a flattened hotel behind us. And wouldn't that have been nice."

"Coulda woulda shoulda," Cain singsonged. "Shit happens, roll with it." He leaned back, feeling the desert sun on his face even through the 'Bird's window. They were well out over northern Chad now, nothing but sand dunes as far as the eye could see. Looking Domino over, Cain frowned. "You look like shit, kid. We do this thing, you need to get yourself some time off before you run yourself into the ground."

She shook her head violently. "Uh-uh. I'm back to the Sudan as soon as we do this. If I hadn't promised that kid's mother I'd do what I could, I never would have stayed in Chad that long. The government's stepped up the airstrikes and there's never enough of us moving people out, and I do it better than most." She paused. "When I'm careful," she conceded, "and I've been a lot more careful lately."

Cain just shook his head. "Look at you. You're a mess. This op hits any more speed bumps, and you're going to fall apart. If it wasn't your thing here, I'd almost try and tell you to sit this one out. As it is, you sure you're up to it?"

At the angry look, Cain held up a hand. "I ain't saying you don't have the skills for it. I know you're miss junior badass mercenary. I'm sayin' you're about to crack here, and if you do, you're a liability. Face facts - you push yourself until you break, and you're no good to those people what need you. Learn a lesson from Nate for once."

Domino grumbled and shifted, leaning back. "You're annoying. You sound like GW. He's been using Nate as a negative example for years. Nate usually throws something at his head for it." Okay, sounding mildly hysterical was not on. Domino closed her eyes, took a deep breath. "Guess it could have been worse. The hotel, I mean. No one died. Although I keep forgetting that the X-Men apparently don't do that."

Cain snorted and rolled his eyes. "Buncha Boy Scouts, but taking that road earns us a lotta goodwill with folks in high places, it seems." Or more aptly, as Ororo had explained it to Cain, the government was a lot more amenable to the X-Men's operations when there wasn't a bodycount. Playing by the rules had its benefits, he had to admit.

"It comes down to it, though," he added, "there's those of us who could if we had to, and still sleep at night. I know we didn't leave Mistra standing without a few casualties."

"I guess that's not your everyday kind of thing, though. Sort of... big, and all." Domino opened her eyes again, looking up at Cain. "So tell me, would you rather be here, or home mowing that very large lawn of yours?"

The corner of Cain's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Depends on the help. But this here? This ain't just X-Men stuff. These people live in a war zone, and I've been in the thick of it enough to know, that ain't no way to have to live. Can't change human nature - Nam taught me that," he explained, "but you help who you can. S'why I wear the X, not for Chuck's grand master peace plan, not for some crusade. You do what you ought to, right?"

"Right," Domino said very distantly. "You do the job that needs doing." And were those words going to haunt her for the rest of her life? She looked up at Cain again, then extended the hand with the grass bracelet on it. "My payment for tracking down the kid. Like it?"

Cain smiled, remembering the woven wire bracelets the Montagnards had made for the soldiers in Vietnam back at Firebase Opal. A simple mountain people, no different from the refugees here when it came down to it.

"If I didn't think you'd punch me out for it," he quipped, "I'd say you're becoming quite the humanitarian. Maybe you and Chuck ought to have tea sometime."

"Just trying to make up for all these years of self-involved dissolute living," Domino said. "I figure at this rate I'll be caught up by the time I'm thirty."

If you see thirty, Cain thought. She was a pretty enough girl, when it came down to it. Nate had told him enough of her history for Cain to stop seeing her as someone four decades younger than him and recognize that the girl was a born warrior, someone he could look on as an equal.

"I know how that goes," he finally said. "I just got a few more years built up than you, is all."

"So what you're saying is that it's never too late?" The right answer to that question would be a lovely thing. And she owed him a beer or something for not questioning her motivations, like everyone else had been doing.

Cain looked down at his hands, pondering that very question. "I'm sixty-five years old," he finally said quietly. "And I wish I knew."

~*~

Shiro is prickly and yet somewhat introspective. Dom is tired enough to be both bitchy and perverse, but also teaches him some basic Arabic so that he can help with the kids more effectively.

It was to be a short trip to the camp from N'Djamena, but Shiro took every second he could spare for Half Blood Prince. Some of his teammates had given him strange looks because of his insisting to read while on a mission, but it wasn't like he had anything better to do. If he was to stay on the jet until and be a good boy, he'd keep himself happy with new Harry Potter crack.

So, as he had been since they'd first left of the mission, Shiro was very intently reading his book. His eyes were pretty much glued to the page.

Cain had tried to keep her diverted with lighter conversation, but she'd been too restless to sit for too long. After going forward to check on Nathan once more, Domino started pacing the plane again. Only for a minute, though, as the kid drew her attention.

Kid? He's what, probably four years younger than you? "Good book?"

Shiro grunted without looking up. He recognized the voice as belonging to Dayspring's friend. Which meant, of course, that Shiro disliked her by proxy.

"Well, aren't you an antisocial little shit," Domino said brightly, flopping down into the seat next to his. "Or are you just pouting about getting stuck on the plane? I mean, the hotel wasn't really all that fun. Massive property damage and all."

"I am reading," Shiro all but snarled, marking his page and glaring up at her. "Since I am stuck on the plane. Should I sit here and twiddle my thumbs instead?" He snorted. What an obnoxious bitch. "Do not presume to know me, mercenary, without ever having met me before."

"Yep," Domino said blithely, "definitely pouting. I know because I used to do the same thing. I pouted for, oh, about a year and a half solid until the old men decided I was fit to play with the big boys."

"And now that you are on the field, you want to rub it in the faces of the trainees?" Shiro hoped this conversation wasn't going to be graded, too. He could tell that he was already failing.

Domino snorted. "Uh-huh. Yeah, this is me rubbing it in your face. Wait, what am I supposed to be rubbing in your face?" She blinked wide violet eyes at him. "I forget. That I'm 'allowed' to go out and put myself in harm's way?"

"Yes," he replied simply, and he continued before she could protest. (Because she would, he knew. People always did when Shiro spoke like this.) "Would we ever get anything accomplished if we all avoided any and all danger? And I do not mean that everything requires 'massive property damage and all.' But if one has the skills, then when the situation calls for it, one ought to be out there staring harm in the eye, ne?"

"Ah, you're an idealist. I should have figured. Seems to be a common ailment back at the mansion," Domino said, conveniently forgetting that she'd been in the Sudan for six weeks ferrying refugees into Chad pro bono. "If you feel that way and have the skills, I guess. I'm still not entirely clear on why I'm supposed to be rubbing that in your face?"

"Yes, they breed us there." If there was anything to be an idealist about, Shiro figured this was it. "The first words out of your mouth to me, after your inquiry about the book, were insults. If you wish to be so condescending, take it elsewhere."

"Oooh. So prickly." Domino rubbed her eyes. The lack of sleep was really beginning to catch up with her, and hell, after the mess at the hotel she was sorry she'd gone back for that last batch of intel. "See, the insults were to get you to get your nose out of the book and actually acknowledge my existence, not anything personal. And it worked, didn't it?" She shrugged. "With guys your age, hitting you in the pride usually works best to get some attention. Well, either that or flashing cleavage."

"I would have much prefered the latter," he said. "Is my acknowledgment really that important? Are the big boys not giving you enough attention?"

"Well, one of them is flying the plane and hates my guts. The other tried to asphyxiate himself back at the hotel, and the third was getting all introspective on me. Which is fine for a little while, but I have a low boredom threshold."

"There are two other full-fledged X-Men. I can guarantee that they make for much more stimulating conversation than the lowly trainee does."

"Is that how you think of yourself?" Tired as she visibly was, there was a sudden, wicked sparkle in Domino's eyes. "The lowly trainee? Along to carry the bags and hand out the peanuts?"

"~I walked into that one,~" he moaned in Japanese, rubbing his eyes and sighing. "Carry the bags, hand out the peanuts, fluff the pillows, take drink orders, ensure that the jet doesn't blow up when the team is performing their mission, and help them with the children once we rescue them from their captors."

"We used to flip a coin to see who got to sit in the helicopter," Domino mused. "Of course, with the Pack, the people sitting in the helicopter were the tactical reserve. And that was never me, because coins don't behave properly around me."

"Telekinetic?"

"Probability-warper," Domino said. "Well, according to Moira, it's probability-warping combined with short-term precog." She gave a slightly rattled laugh. "So ninety-nine percent of the time, I don't get hit, or shot, no matter who's doing the hitting or the shooting. Buildings have been known to collapse on people who tried."

"A useful power," Shiro said, begrudingly impressed. "You must fetch a high price on the mercenary market, then."

"I generally don't get out of bed for under half a million dollars." The grass bracelet on her wrist, the one Mangar's mother had given her in 'payment', caught her eye. "Although sometimes I make exceptions."

"How considerate of you." He'd be hard-pressed to admit it, but there was something about the life of a mercenary that was alluring to Shiro. Probably all the danger. And maybe the money. Although action is a suitable reward.

The assessing look wasn't hard to read. "Stick to the X-Men, Shiro. Plenty of excitement, and yet you can always look yourself in the mirror the morning after."

"If my eyes have not been blown out of their sockets by some crazy megalomaniac mutant," Shiro retorted, grinning ever so slightly.

"I've always heard that the real megalomaniacs go for choicer bits than eyes," Domino said, a bit too brightly. "Or, no, wait, that's just crazy mutant femme fatales. I'm getting my bad guys mixed up. I think it's the lack of sleep." She rubbed at her eyes again. "I don't suppose you speak Arabic? Most of the kids will speak Arabic."

"Do I look like I speak such a harsh tongue?" he asked, quietly enough so that Haroun wouldn't overhear him. "I will gesture wildly and vaguely so that the kids can get the gist."

"Marhaban," Domino said. "Kayf haluk. It means 'Hello, how are you.'" She smiled a bit faintly. "If they don't look like they're answering in the affirmative, tell them Ma tkhafshi. Don't be afraid."

"Marhaban. Kayf haluk. Ma tkhafshi," he repeated a couple of times, putting those words to memory. Hard words to remember, but Japanese was tougher. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She caught herself playing with the bracelet again and rose. "I think I'm going to go raid the medkit for a stimulant and let you get back to your book. We'll be almost another hour before we land."

"Good. I am almost done." He opened his book again, and quickly got lost in young Mr. Potter's current series of misadventures.

~*~

Just before landing, Domino sits down with Nathan for a moment. They butt heads, but finally agree that staying on the plane isn't an option for either of them. Even if it might be the intelligent thing to do.

"I thought you were using the cold pack on your head?"

"I was," Nathan said, looking at Domino with a faint smile as he held the cold pack to his shoulder. It was helping, numbing the ache a little. He'd put it away in a few minutes and do some stretching, and hopefully that would solve the problem. "Now I'm using it on my shoulder. Problem?"

Domino shrugged irritably and sat down beside him on the bench. The stimulant had helped. She had more energy, at least, even if the little pink pills had made the twitchiness worse. "So what the hell was all that about?" she asked abruptly. "Back at the hotel. I thought you were Super-Teke these days - how did the bastard kick your ass so easily?"

"Always so gentle with my pride," Nathan murmured, leaning his aching head back against the cool metal behind him. "There are times for post-combat analysis, and this isn't one of them. He was just... very good with my powers."

"No excuse," Domino said, a bit more harshly than she'd intended. "You think any of the rest of us wanted to have to go back to Moira and tell her you'd gotten yourself killed? Asshole."

"He wasn't trying to kill me."

"Nate, you stopped breathing."

"Which was mostly my fault." Nathan stared across at the other side of the cabin, his gaze distant. "He didn't want to kill me." That, at least, he knew. The thoughts he'd glimpsed were still murky in his memory... they'd take some more study and examination, maybe with Charles' help. "Not unless I brought it on myself," he said absently, then blinked and shook himself a little. "But yeah. He wasn't looking to kill me."

Domino gritted her teeth, and told herself not to hit him. Tempting as it was, he'd been hit enough already today. "I hope you're staying on the plane with the kid while we hit the camp," she said crossly.

His attention shifted right back to her, sharpening. "Like hell I am."

"Oh, sure," she said acidly. "Come along, so when you keel over from the concussion, we need to carry you back to the plane along with the kids. Real clear tactical thinking there, old man."

"I am fine," Nathan said, quietly but firmly. "Mission-capable. You think I'd screw this up by being stubborn? And don't use that tone with me, Nadia," he said, dropping to a low enough whisper that no one would hear him. Domino's eyes went very wide as he used her real name. "You look like shit, and I could make as persuasive an argument that you needed to stay here with me."

"None of you would be here if I hadn't given you the intel," Dom hissed at him, flushing.

"No, we wouldn't. And because you set this up, and did a damned good job of it, I'm willing to give you enough credit for knowing whether or not you're mission-capable, too." His gray eyes flashed for a moment. "But don't push me. I'm not in the mood."

Domino glared at him for a moment - and then laughed, tiredly, her shoulders slumping. "We really are a pair. You want to bet that neither of us would recognize that we needed to stay on the plane, even if we did?"

Nathan managed a wry smile. "You'd think that mutant kids being exploited was a sore subject with us or something."

"Fancy that." Domino swallowed, then leaned against him briefly, glad she'd sat down on the side that didn't have the sore shoulder. "We'll get them out, right?" she asked, sounding very young for a moment.

"Every single one of them," Nathan said very softly.

~*~

The man in charge at the training camp steps out his front door for a smoke. His night goes a little awry.

Gouara Yamassoum stepped outside the door of the barracks, lighting up a cigarette. He stared out pensively into the darkness, listening to the silence. All of their charges were safely in their beds, locked in their barracks. Mutants. He shuddered a little. As valuable as they would be in combat, it made his skin crawl to have to deal with them day in, day out. One never knew when one of the creatures would slip. He'd already lost one man to a slip of control by the pyrokinetic girl, and hadn't that been a mess, getting her back under control and punishing her properly.

The spot of light at the end of his cigarette was the only light he could see out here. There were two guards walking the perimeter, he knew, but discretion replaced fortification here at his camp. It had worked fairly well so far.

Gouara pondered, idly, the career opportunities that would await him when this assignment was done. The general had promised suitable rewards, assignment back to N'Djamena, perhaps a comfortable staff position. That would be more than acceptable, Gouara told himself, a just reward for all these months hidden away in the depths of the desert...

There was a man standing on the crest of a dune, just beyond the perimeter of the camp. Gouara stared at him, at the faint starlight glinting off the - was that a spear the man held? He opened his mouth to call out to his guards...

... and could not speak. Panic flooded him, briefly, but then he wondered why. He was merely standing here smoking, after all. Nothing was amiss. All was as it should be.

#These are not the droids you're looking for.#

... droids?

#Sorry. Enjoy your cigarette.# There was a cold, cold edge to the voice in his head. Gouara felt a brief flash of fear, but then his enjoyment of his cigarette required all his attention.

He smoked, quite peaceably, until the communications shack blew up in a sudden roar of flame and noise. Even as he threw aside his cigarette and started yelling orders, it was too late, because there were interlopers there, in the camp. Strangers. Europeans? Three women, one shining like the sun, and an enormous man, and a man with a glowing spear, and what was that in the sky?

~*~

After dropping off the rescued children with the Professor's contact in Niger, the team prepares to head home. They wind up taking along an unwilling passenger.

Nathan closed the back door of the van and gave it a solid thump to let the driver know that he could get moving. They needed to get the 'Bird back off the ground here - the airstrip outside Agadem was isolated, but they couldn't afford to draw any official attention here in Niger. The van sped away, and Nathan turned back towards Alison with a tired smile, his first of the day. "Seems like a good man," he said, referring to the Professor's contact, who was in the passenger's seat beside his cousin, the driver. "Very determined to get the kids home safe, I could tell that much."

"No kidding." The man had been driving towards the rendez-vous point at insane speeds, though from the way he was going now one never would have known that a he'd been trying to outdo Evil Knievel not so long ago. "The kids sure took to him right away. Impressive after everything they've been through," she said pensively, before glancing down at her leg in mild irritation. "My bruises' bruises will have bruises by tomorrow. Haroun is so going to put me through drills in the danger room for this."

"I think I'm concussed, too," Nathan confessed a bit wryly as they turned back towards the plane. "Either that or it's just the oxygen deprivation hangover. Moira's going to kill me. I don't think that..." He trailed off, eyes widened at the sight of the figure walking quite openly away from the plane. "Dom! Where the hell are you... DOM!" He swore and darted after her, ignoring the insistent throbbing of his head.

Domino turned around, walking backwards, and shook her head at him. "You're heading the wrong way," she called back as he closed the distance. "You guys go that way." She indicated west. "I go back to Lake Chad and catch the boat to N'Djamena. I'll email you in a week or so."

Alison raised an eyebrow at that, following at a far more sedate and lop-sided pace. "She's funny," she commented idly to Nathan, even as she slowly passed by them and headed for the ramp of the Blackbird, her final destination holding the promise of sweet comfort. They had wonderfully well padded co-pilot's seats in that plane.

"Bye, Blaire!" Domino waved at her. "Tell Plastic-Butt he's not such a bad guy for me? That should drive him nicely nuts..."

"Domino, will you - DOM!" Nathan said in exasperation, catching up with her and catching her arm. "Back to Lake Chad? Across how many klicks of the fucking Sahara?"

"Naw, you can tell him yourself," Alison called up, heading up the ramp with a small wince. Stupid ramp. Triggering her comm on, she waited until she was at the top of the ramp to lean on the side of the paneling, looking over her shoulder to give Nathan a wry look. ~Just knock her out. Less arguing, less wear and tear, and I really want us to lift off asap.~ She paused, tilting her head to the side. ~Plus, she gets to complain about you doing that, after. And you get to say you're not the one coming back all unconscious, for once.~

Nathan sighed and looked back at Domino. "Are you going to get in the plane?" The mutinous set of her jaw was the only answer he got. "You realize I'm going to give myself a fucking migraine if I knock you out telepathically when I've got a concussion."

"Then let me go!" She tried to wrench her arm out of his grip. "I've got shit to do, Nathan."

Nathan shook his head, leaning back - and slammed a fist into her jaw. She crumpled, and he caught her, sighing. "Call me old-fashioned," he said, lifting her into his arms easily. She had to have lost twenty pounds, and really, she didn't have it to lose. "I'm going to hear about this for the next five years," he said, heading back towards the Blackbird.

"Ooh, you are. " Still waiting at the top of the ramp, leaning to the side a bit, Alison grinned. "But that's okay. I plan on making sure she never hears the end of it too. Probably for a lot more than five years, cause I'm mean an' petty that way, too." Nodding almost cheerfully at that, Ailson limped backwards, giving him room to pass through.

"I'm going to break out the nice needle with the nice sedative in it," Nathan said, climbing the ramp. "Partially because I don't really want her waking up halfway across the Atlantic and deciding to off me, but also because she probably needs the sleep." As he reached the top of the stairs, he glanced down at Dom's face, unable to help a sigh. "Although let's not tease her too hard for a while."

"Rock stars have perfect timing," Alison reminded him with a serious expression, though she did stop to look at Domino for a moment. "Probably want to use a smaller dose than usual." She didn't remark on the loss of weight, though - it was that blatant, really. "And now, I limp off to the really comfy chair up front and get nagged about taking that hit, is what I do. Let us know when everyone is belted in so we can take off..." She gave him a small, sympathetic smile before heading off towards the front of the plane.

~*~

Over the Atlantic and heading home, Nathan and Haroun have an idle conversation in the cockpit about wider implications and the Professor's dream in a global context.

They had to be well out over the Atlantic by now. The others had settled in for the flight, and he'd made sure Dom was settled - she was so going to kill him for this, but he hadn't been about to let her run off for a stroll across the Sahara - but he was restless, still. Making up for the time I spent unconscious already today? Nathan shook his aching head a little and walked forward, settling into the empty co-pilot's seat and glancing sideways at Haroun.

"Smooth air so far. It's nice."

Haroun flicked a few toggles, then took his hands off the stick. "Yes, it is. We've hit a nice calm patch, weather-wise. Should last us most of the way through to New York. Then we get to play Dodge The Flight Radar and touchdown. Figure maybe another hour or two flight time. What's on your mind, Nathan?" he asked.

Nathan sighed, slouching a little in the chair. "Nothing. Everything. I don't wind down well - I thought you'd have figured that out by now." He rubbed at the back of his neck, and then gingerly touched the side of his head, locating the lump from where he'd played 'bounce off the concrete'.

"Stop fucking with it." he said, referring to the headwound. "This was a clusterfuck, pure and simple. We got hosed."

"Twenty-odd kids are no longer in that camp," Nathan said a bit crankily. "Primary mission objective's in the bag. You won't hear me disagreeing that our unscheduled recon could have gone a little better."

Haroun nodded. "There is that." he said cordially. "That's important - at least it's a start. You know anyone at the UN or something that we can pester to get some real relief in here? We're too small, too constrained to do it up right."

"If Dom's intel is right and there are more of these camps elsewhere in Africa... yeah, we need to set those with more resources on the trail." Nathan closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. "Charles told me about a contact of his at the UN once, someone from whatever agency it is that specializes in helping child soldiers reintegrate into society. That might be a good place to start."

"Couldn't hurt. At least, I don't think it could." he qualified. "It still burns me that people would use children like that. Guess it still burns you too, eh?" he said with a concerned look.

Nathan raised an eyebrow, keeping his eyes closed. "If you're asking if it hits a little too close to home... actually, it hits a lot too close to home." He opened his eyes, gazing out at the night sky, more than a little troubled suddenly by the idea of Eris being this involved in creating mutant soldiers out of children. That nagged at him in an odd way... twigged something that he didn't really want to chase down just now. "I was faking the calm and collected demeanor while we were setting this up at the end of the week. Thought I did quite a good job, actually..."

"Hey, I know you, man." he said, with a friendly punch to the shoulder. "Shit, man, I've seen what fanaticism does to the little ones. It's a horrible thing, watching a little girl in a dirty dress give your best friend a big ol' hug before she blows them both to Allah." he said with clenched teeth.

Nathan looked sideways at him. "If I was a religious man, I'd be inclined to believe that there was a special hell for the people who train children to do that sort of thing," he murmured. "Maybe I do anyway. At least I've stopped wanting to send them there personally so that they can find out for themselves."

Haroun grinned ferally. "Then you're still a better man than I am." he said. "And I am a religious man. Ahh, at least here we can do some real good. I've had enough of the penny-ante crap."

"Funny, how the non-penny ante crap generally turns out to be the stuff we've got to keep to ourselves," Nathan said idly. The conversation was diverting, which was what he needed just now. "Youra. This, given that we did violate the airspace of a sovereign country, attack members of its armed forces, and transport a number of its minors across international borders..."

"Well, yeah. The problem with being international players without any sort of backing is that big nasty governments tend to get annoyed with us. So far, so good though - the Greeks aren't, for example, scrambling Mirage fighters and trying to kill us all, for example."

"Keep in mind that got smoothed over in advance," Nathan pointed out. "There were definite benefits to tackling that operation in cooperation with the government." He shrugged a little, a faint smile playing on his lips. "And in terms of getting governments pissed off at us, we probably don't have that much to fear from the Republic of Chad."

Haroun laughed. "In order to have that government pissed at us, they'd have to _get_ a government first." he chortled. "I mean, come on, Chad is basically anarchical right now. There's no central authority that's worth a damn."

"So hopefully they'll consider this whole project a non-starter and not try it again," Nathan murmured, still staring out the window. "The ones at the camp won't remember who it was that swooped in and removed the kids."

"I find your excess of faith disturbing." he said. "You know as well as I do that some other pisspot warlord is going to have the same bright idea and start it all over again. Almost makes me wish we could open up a school in Chad, train these kids to fight back, to police their own effectively."

Nathan's eyes widened a little at the sheer ambitious audacity of the suggestion. "Like the idea, believe me, but I don't think we've got the manpower to be opening X-franchises... well, anywhere, let alone the developing world." He sighed. "Although that's probably where they'd need them the most."

Haroun smiled thinly. "It's something I've thought a lot about. Do my time at Xavier's, learn all I can, then open up a camp to do the same thing down in my homeland, or someplace close to it. Start turning Xavier's ideals of mutant-human solidarity into something a little more concrete. Police our own, and protect ours against those who would prey upon us."

"Here's to noble endeavors," Nathan murmured, rubbing at the shoulder Gideon had grabbed. It was still aching, too. "I can think of a few places that might be useful in my old stomping grounds, too... thoughts for another day, though."

Haroun nodded. "Thoughts for another day. Hang onto it, though. Keep it in the back of your mind - assuming you still have those braincells." he smirked.

"Oh, shut up. Did I sprain my brain? No."

Haroun laughed. Loudly.

~*~

Half a world away, Saul Morrow receives a phone call.

A phone rang in a Tudor-style mansion in San Francisco. Saul Morrow looked up from his book, frowning at the time, and picked up the phone resting on the table at his elbow, an eyebrow arching as he saw the number.

"What's wrong?" he asked, instead of hello. His eyes widened slightly, and then narrowed, a look of pure rage twisting his features. "You what?"

Silence, save for the ticking of the grandfather clock by the far wall. The muscles along Saul's jaw tensed visibly. "That is not acceptable," he said forcefully. "You... what? For God's sake!" he burst out in disbelief. "It's far too soon for any of that! What were you trying to do, kill him or get yourself killed, you ass?"

Tick.

Saul gritted his teeth, snarling out his next words. "I despise it when you improvise. You're not very good at it. But, don't stop there. The consequences are as important as the event. What happened then?"

Strangely, the answer to that drew a tight, nasty little smile from him. "I see. Well, did it satisfy your curiosity, at least? ... oh, well, isn't that a pity. I could have told you that, and I didn't even need to be able to read his mind."

Tick. Branches lashed against the window as the wind outside suddenly picked up. Saul's expression turned stony as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone.

"I suppose," he conceded, ungraciously. "Astonishing how you can always twist these situations around to suit yourself. It's a gift, truly." He closed his book - Beyond Good and Evil by Nietzsche; it had been a while since his last rereading - and set it aside. "Yes, I'm angry," he snapped, his voice tight. "... what? No, that's no consolation, although I supposed I should appreciate the fact that you deigned to make the effort."

The clock started to chime the hour. Four AM? He had read through the night again, Saul realized. Ah, well, he thought, turning his attention to the necessary metabolic adjustments.

"I will," he said finally. "But you will stay out of my way, until I say otherwise. You owe me that, after all of this." He sighed, his eyes drifting to the window. "Soon," he said finally, his tone almost placating. "You're not the only one who's a little impatient."

Another slight, tight smile. "Well. We should wait until the child is born."