xp_logs | House of Wind: The End of the World

The X-Men land in Ushuaia and tackle Gideon's security detail, including some familiar faces from Vladivostok. Meanwhile, Gideon tries one last time to synch to Nathan's precognition - and is successful.

Which is precisely what Nathan wanted. In the process, Nathan discovers that what he didn't see is something he should have expected all alone. Or rather, someone.

~*~

The Moving Finger writes; and having writ
Moves on; nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
- Omar Khayyam, The Rubaiyat

The sun was flooding through the windows again today. A bright, beautiful, if windy day, here at the end of the world. Nathan reflected dimly that it was never anything but windy in this part of the world. He had climbed here once, or just north of here, in Patagonia. There had been elegant rock spires, and perfect views, and...

The memory fractured and fell away, a poor shelter from the reality of this room and what was happening. Did he really need to hide? It wasn't so bad. He could almost get used to it, Nathan thought, slumped in the chair and shivering slightly as waves of pain and dizziness rolled over him, combined with an odd numbness at the spot where Gideon's hand was resting on his shoulder. It really wasn't so bad. Things got strange and detached after a while, and his mind went to interesting places. Like into Gideon's, through the transparent mirrors.

"You want this so badly," he said unevenly. "You want to see, so badly... I don't think you k-know what you will see."

"There is something there," was the contemplative reply, after a long silence followed Nathan's words. Gideon wasn't faring much better than the other man, it was clear to see - the faint tremor to his hands was getting more obvious with each passing attempt and despite his features remaining as composed as ever, strain and fatigue were starting to glimmer through every now and then."Something to complete the pattern."

Closing the circle. The thought came to Nathan, all at once, and he twitched more violently in the chair as Gideon's grip on his shoulder tightened. "Of course... there's something... there," he forced out, his breathing shallow and labored, and not just because of his ribs. "There's a-always been something there. Your... precious long view, but you don't know... you can't know what it's like to carry it..."

"For each man shall bear his own burden," was the calm, too calm reply, as Gideon's brow furrowed slightly, his grip tightened. "That is, and ever has been how things are, nephew. Trying to change that is akin to throwing pebbles at a typhoon. It is those who learn to ride the storm," and here his lips quirked slightly, "a metaphor far more apt to your Miss Munroe, perhaps, but nonetheless... it is those who learn to ride the storm, who ultimately truly shape their fate."

"... you are so.. full of crap," Nathan wheezed and then coughed, a noise of pain catching in his throat as pain jolted through his chest. "Maybe the m-memories were wrong," he finally managed, his voice tight with pain, "but you'd still make one hell of a c-cult leader." The grip on his shoulder tightened even further, and Nathan gasped, his eyes rolling back in his head and blackness creeping in at the edges of his awareness as the waves got more powerful, pulling him under a little further each time.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard a crack of thunder. Or... no, not a crack of thunder. Gideon was suddenly letting go of him and rising, quick footsteps covering the distance to the door. Nathan slumped further in the chair, trying to stay awake, at least a little awake... he needed to be awake when the world ended, to see it.

"... keep them away from the house," he heard Gideon saying crisply, and a woman's voice - Callery? - murmured an affirmative. Then the door closed again and Gideon returned to the chair across from his, sitting down abruptly.

Nathan forced his eyes open, and managed a ghastly smile for his uncle. "Tempus... f-fugit," he whispered. "Too slow. They'll be here before you... find it." Hurry, Nathan thought silently, half-deliriously at his uncle. Oh please, hurry...

Something brushed his mind. Someone. Jim. Nathan closed his eyes, waiting for that hand to fall on his shoulder again.

The landing had been as smooth as a feather drifting to the ground, despite the terrain, and Alison watched as the team members each prepared themselves, with swift economy of movement. Paige was staying behind, both as the trainee and medic on duty but also, as far as Alison was concerned, as the one to keep an eye out for trouble, regardless of the fact that Alison knew the others were all able to take care of themselves in their own right, knowing Paige was there as well was still reassuring. She nodded once at Paige, sparing the younger woman a brief smile, then turned around, expression somber.

"Right. Everyone ready?" Slight nods answered her and without further delay, Alison stepped down the ramp, taking a deep breath of fresh air. "Let's go."

She was not going hand-to-hand with the bastard this time (unless she had to), Tanya Callery thought, her attention locked on the unmistakable figure of Cain Marko, who was heading directly for the house even as her security detail moved in. She supposed that was only to be expected. Mr. Faraday's power didn't work on him, for whatever reason, so of course he'd make a beeline for the house and not look back.

And she couldn't let that happen. Mr. Faraday had been quite specific about needing them to buy him time, and after failing him in Vladivostok, Tanya wasn't about to do it again. Not because she was afraid of the consequences, but simply because she owed the man too much to let him down.

"We need to delay him," she said to the tall woman standing next to her. "If you have to cause a full-scale earthquake, do so."

"Mmm. This isn't the sort of geology we want to be mucking about with," Sinead O'Meara said, shaking her head as she extended her hands. "I'll start subtle, Tanya, if you don't mind..."

Cain glanced to his left as his communicator buzzed, seeing the hand signal from Haroun that meant 'hostiles to your two o'clock'. Giving the thumbs-up, he watched his team leader rocket into the sky and used the smoke and noise to cover his movement.

Glancing over a small berm, he saw two women across the meadow. One tall and unfamiliar, the other short and...

"Aw, hell..." he breathed, repressing the urge to grin. The little invulnerable brat from Gideon's Vladivostok security detail. This time, however, she looked armed for bear and in no mood for small talk. Smacking one fist into his palm, Cain stepped forward - but paused as he felt the ground shift beneath his feet. Rolling his eyes skyward, he repeated himself with emphasis, "Aw hell..."

"He doesn't appear to be falling down, Tanya," Sinead said coolly.

Tanya told herself that smacking her people upside the head was not proper motivational practice. Besides, Sinead was just that way, and honestly, when you had a powerful earth manipulator you wanted her to be in control of her emotions.

"Then create a sinkhole. Something that will keep him immobilized for long enough for Mr. Faraday to finish what he's doing." Whatever that was.

Oh, it was the smirking bastard from Vladivostok. Jelena soared upwards and forced her personal energy field into a concussive shockwave. They were all to be kept away from the house. Mr. Faraday had been perfectly clear about that.

Haroun saw Jelena coming and dodged out of the way with a simple flick of his power, taking him out of the blast area. In return, he tried something new - something adapted from a soccer match he saw once. He took a throwing spike, dropped it, then lashed his body and power around to kick it at supersonic speeds right at Jelena - he hoped. Aim was something he was still fuzzy on with this technique. He couldn't just throw it - trying would destroy his arm and shoulder in very short order.

She managed to get her field back in time to let it ricochet off. It would only have clipped her, but at the speed it had been coming at her... Gathering the field around her more solidly, she dove at him.

On the plus side, he hit her with it. On the minus side, it bounced. But, perhaps on the plus side, she was now headed right for him and not strafing his team-mates. All he had to do, once again, was keep her busy and out of the fight. His team-mates would get all the glory on this one. He let her come at him, and when she was _just_ outside grappling range he goosed his power to give her a nice face-full of chemokinetic exhaust.

I have a forcefield, you ass! Jelena thought stonily and plunged through the exhaust, slamming into him field-first. Knock him down and she could turn her attention to the other X-Men.

There weren't that many of them. When the plane had appeared, Paul Klausener had half-expected all of the X-Men. But there were only a handful, and that, the former German special forces officer thought, he could certainly handle. Or help handle, at least, since the other members of the security detail were already moving in, picking their targets.

He chose the young woman with green hair - Lorna Dane, he remembered, mentally running over her file even as he concentrated and created a gale-force wind, directing it right at her.

Even with forty extra pounds of metal on her, the sudden wind knocked Lorna back, whiplashing her hair into her face. Metal bled out from her collar, screening her mouth enough that she could manage a breath rather than have it stolen away. She stabilized herself and closed her eyes, unable to see with the wind in her face anyway, and the world appeared in shimmering shades of green. Her teammates felt familiar and were easy to ignore. Their attackers were similarly dismissed and she narrowed down the field to a figure standing on the slope of one of the surrounding hills. Nice watch, she noted, idly, then dug the steel into his wrist.

Klausener cursed, tearing at the watch desperately with his other hand. It was not coming off as it should. Damn. He didn't stop trying, but he also pushed past the pain and redoubled the force of the winds he was throwing at Lorna, forcing them into the unmistakable spiral pattern of a tornado.

Lorna gritted her teeth against the feeling of the debris picked up by the tornado as it slammed into her, cutting her exposed face and ripping the outer leather of her uniform. Her shields would do her little good here so she didn't waste the energy, instead throwing herself out of the path of the wind at the same time as using the watch to spin the man and throw him to the ground. She needed to get closer

The air was driven from Klausener's lungs with how hard he hit the ground, but he concentrated doggedly on trying to claw the watch off. Metal, did he have any other metal on him...

Two more shaky steps, and Cain felt the ground give under him. "Not again..." he growled through clenched teeth as he threw himself backwards onto more solid ground. When the dust cleared, a ten-meter chasm had opened between him and the women, its depths bubbling with what appeared to be warm, clinging mud.

Through slitted eyes, Cain peered across at the two women who appeared to be... laughing at him? "No way in hell the Juggernaut gets beaten by fucking dirt," he swore, mentally adding 'again'.

Backing up a step, Cain gauged the distance, then gathered his legs under him and pounded forward, pushing off the edge of the chasm and leaping into open air.

Oh, crap, Tanya thought, immediately pushing Sinead behind her. "Whatever help you can give would be appreciated," she said to the other woman levelly. "He's a little bigger than me."

"Mmm," Sinead said, and the earth bucked upwards right at the spot where Cain landed, like a horse trying to throw off its rider.

The feeling wasn't unlike landing on a trampoline, and Cain suddenly found himself thankful for those Danger Room sessions with the spring-loaded floor panels that Ororo was overly fond of. Landing in a kneeling three-point stance for stability, Cain looked up at the two women and smiled ferally.

"Run," he said through his teeth, as he clenched his fists.

"Like hell," Tanya said with a faint smile, but reached out and pushed Sinead in the direction of the house. "Mr. Faraday needs a little more time to finish off his idiot nephew."

Protecting her people, Cain noticed. The gal had the makings of a good soldier - and had probably been one at some time. With a quick juke, Cain reached around to the left for Sinead. As Tanya predictably interposed herself between Cain and her friend - Cain pivoted to the right and did the one thing she probably wouldn't have expected; balling up his fist, he released an uppercut right into the underside of the petite woman's jaw.

With the Blackbird's engines off, the noises from outside were all too audible, the sounds of fighting unmistakable. Saul Morrow sat straight-backed in one of the passenger seats in the rear of the Blackbird, his expression unreadable. He had been ignoring his fellow travelers for the length of the flight here from Rio.

So it was a surprise when he broke the silence. Who he chose to speak to was perhaps even more so.

"A difficult thing, waiting," he said to Jim, his voice low.

The voice brought he out of his light meditative state, focusing him back on the here-and-now. Keeping his mind half-open to the fight, Jim turned his head to look at the older man. He took a moment to process the words before answering. "Yes," Jim said, his tone neutral. "But we'd only get in the way. And they're holding their own."

"And my son? Can you sense him at all?" Saul asked after a long moment, slowly.

"Yes. He knows we're here." Jim settled his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He'd had to step it back; he didn't feel safe maintaining intense contact. Not with so much happening so close. For now, he had to be content with distant echoes. "He's in pain."

Saul's gaze went distant and unfocused, as if he could see through the plane to the house a mile away. "I tell myself that he would not be alive, nearly a week later, if Gideon truly meant to kill him." A pause. "It may be self-delusion."

"Maybe." He had to be careful. In spite of Saul's determination to save his son, a part of Jim still loathed the man. If not for what he'd done, then for what he'd . . . allowed. But right now Jim didn't have the luxury of hate. Right now, he needed to see. Set it aside, he thought as he took a deep, even breath. All things in their time.

"You didn't mean for this," Jim said quietly. In spite of the anger he still carried, he knew it was true. Saul's acts were proof enough of that.

"No. But I perhaps should have foreseen it." Saul looked forward, where Angelo was up in the cockpit, trying to see out the canopy. "Nathan did, I believe. He is very much like his mother, in that respect..."

"He knew. He saw it coming weeks ago. Pieces, anyway. I think he always knew it would come to this, deep down." The presence was distant, but Jim could still sense Nathan in his mind, and more than the pain was what he didn't feel. "He's not afraid anymore."

Saul's hands, folded together in his lap, twisted for a moment, almost spasmodically. "I lost his mother because she surrendered to a self-fulfilling prophecy," he said gruffly, his eyes no longer meeting Jim's. "I cannot understand what he hopes to accomplish."

"He's fighting back. The only way he knows how." Jim's gaze drifted to the window without really registering what lay beyond it. "It was the only way he felt left to him after all you and his uncle have done. 'With your shield, or on it.' Whose fault is that?"

"He wanted to bear the risk himself. Believed he'd lost too much to risk anyone else any further. He told me that, before..." Saul trailed off, his gaze still distant. "I reminded him of a moment from his childhood, hoping he would remember. He didn't."

I am calm. All selves working in their turn. Still, and calm. Jim shook his head, the motion slow and deliberate. "His memories are nothing but scar tissue. His mind has been traumatized so many times it's impossible for him to know what was real and what was fabricated anymore. Not even where the holes used to be. Some things are beyond recovery." He paused, seeking out the other man's eyes. Grey. Like his son's. "Did you know?"

Saul looked away. "I knew Gideon removed all memory of himself from Nathan's mind, the night we..." He stopped. "That was all I knew," he said quietly. "I never dreamed that such damage would be done."

"But it was." Jim turned back to the window. "And you let it happen."

Outside of the funnel of wind, Lorna was able to cross the distance between them in the space of a few seconds. She loosened her grip on the watch, giving him time to rip it off just before she kicked him in the head. It wasn't much of a sacrifice. She'd yet to even touch the zippers and rivets in his clothing.

Klausener started to roll away, seeing the kick coming, but was unable to dodge it. It connected, but didn't knock him out. Which was good, because if this woman got through to the house, Mr. Faraday was going to have his hands full, a psi's power to draw off or not.

He gave his injured wrist a shake and tried to concentrate again. Crosswinds. Something that would knock her down, too.

The unexpected buffeting from both sides shook her, knocking the wind from her with its force then tossed her unceremoniously to the ground. She swore, gasping for breath and rolled with the wind, putting her farther from him and her back to a boulder. He was still on the ground but with the winds this strong, there was no way for her to stand.

Klausener tried to haul himself to his feet, to go over there and finish her off - he could shape the winds around himself so that he could walk - but went back to his knees as soon as he tried, overwhelmingly dizzy all of a sudden. The strength of the winds dipped as he suddenly had to focus on not hitting the ground again.

Lorna caught her breath finally, keeping a mental eye on his EM signature, the bright bits of metal still on him standing out like a flare. She could have simply shoved them through his skin, ripped him up with tiny knife-like bullets. Her hands had started to clench when the nausea of the idea hit her. Malice. It was too much like Malice and she wasn't. She wouldn't do that to anyone again. She struggled to her feet and fought the winds to get to him. "Give up."

Klausener tried to catch his breath. Not quite the glancing kick he'd thought, and the winds died down a little further. "There are others," he said, a bit hoarsely. "Between you and the house. Even if I do, that's not going to ensure that you get there before Mr. Faraday finishes."

She dropped to one knee in front of him. "Then you've done your part. No one expects you to die for this job. Walk away and let someone else take a shot." She pulled his watch to her hand and held it out to him. "We're going to stop him. One way or the other, we'll stop him."

"He's not as easy to stop as you seem to think." But if they did stop him, they were meant to, weren't they? That was Mr. Faraday's failure, then. Not his. Klausener reached out and took the watch, noticing how freely the cuts on his wrist were bleeding. "Go on, then," he said. It was increasingly hard to keep up the winds and he sagged backwards, sitting down hard. In the end, he really wasn't ready to die for this job. Not today, at least.

She opened her mouth to say something then just nodded and stood. After a moment, she reached into a pocket on her leg and pulled out a bandage, shoved there at the last minute by Paige. "Here. Wrap that wrist." She could have killed him. Could have broken him like she had Remy. This seemed little enough in the way of atonement. "We're not as easy to stop as he thinks either." She waited for him to take the bandage, then walked away without another word.

Now his opponent was just where Haroun wanted her. He grabbed a hold of her field with his arms and legs, and took them on a hellride to the basement -aiming them at his maximum power output straight at the ground. He was sweating like a pig and getting lightheaded, and he couldn't imagine that she was doing much better. Most flier's forcefields were designed to keep the heat in for high-altitude flight - a characteristic he was counting on that she shared.

Jelena let go of her field in another concussive blast, close-quarters this time. She didn't stick around to see how it affected him; they were close enough to the ground that once she'd dislodged him she had to focus on pulling up.

Haroun rode out the concussive blast - sure it hurt - a lot - but he'd gained the positional advantage of being directly above her. As she tried to fly up, he pushed back down, aiding his efforts with short, sharp kicks with his cybernetic legs.

Jelena had to conclude he was a little addled by the dive, as she dove down and then back up, coming vertical again nowhere near him. She grimaced and let fly with another concussive blast at him, from behind.

Haroun had only his long hours of training to thank from becoming a newly-married crater in the ground. Her blast pushed him dangerously close to the ground, but he managed to pull his dive out without doing any permanent injury to himself. But he'd lost ground and lost the advantage and needed to do something quick to get it back.

Jelena made another irritated face and launched herself at him again. She ought to be regrouping at the house. This was taking far too long.

Cain's punch quite literally sent Tanya flying. Her mutation was what it was, but she also weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. Sinead immediately darted to the right, flinging out a hand, and fine dirt swirled upwards and directly into Cain's eyes.

Covering his eyes, Cain dropped to a knee again, suddenly blind. His hand closed on something hard, a chunk of rock that had been brought to the surface by Sinead's efforts. Turning his head to the side, he exhaled slowly, remembering the words of his gunnery sergeant the first time he'd been on patrol in the jungle - if you can't see, hear.

The sounds of fighting echoed through the hills, but close to him -there, a footstep in dry leaves - Cain came up from his crouch, slinging the rock sidearm and releasing it at knee height, just like skipping a stone over a pond.

Sinead, who hadn't done the smart thing and headed for the house, mostly because Tanya was down and she wasn't going to leave her, went down with an 'ooof!' as the rock hit her squarely in the midsection. Not being physically enhanced in any way, she stayed down, trying to rediscover the art of breathing.

Tanya, ten metres or so away, was just staggering back to her feet when she saw it happen. This was not good, she thought a bit dizzily, because if she didn't stop him, he was going to go to the house... taking a deep, shaky breath, she ran at him. A few more minutes. Mr. Faraday had said he was close.

Opening his eyes, Cain saw the one woman down and clutching her stomach, the ground rippling around her weakly. Out of the edge of his peripheral vision he caught a glimpse of Tanya barreling at him. A small twinge in his side distracted him for a second, but he forced it down as he stepped into her blow. The two of them froze in place for a second, Cain looking down at the short yet determined woman who was rearing back for another punch.

If that's how it's gonna be... Cain thought, bracing himself and throwing a series of quick jabs, parrying Tanya's swift punches and kicks as she continued to duck and weave past his driving blows.

He'd been a talker, in Vladivostok, Tanya thought. She launched a kick at his knee that almost got through, then ducked past a punch. "What's the matter?" she asked, out of breath. "No witty banter this time?"

"Ain't in the mood," Cain grunted as he let her land a few blows against his forearm. "Your boss's got my friend, we're gonna get him back. You're in the way. Pretty simple."

No effect. Whatever had happened in Vladivostok must have been a lucky shot, something like that, and there was considerably less to work with here in terms of blunt instruments. Dammit. "Only have to be in the way for a little while longer. Once Mr. Faraday gets what he wants, maybe he'll give him to you... it's not as if there's a whole lot of family feeling there."

"I ain't exactly inclined to let Mr. Faraday get what he wants," Cain snapped back, fist pulled back for another punch. "And you can't stop me from... wait... you can't stop me," he said slowly.

Lowering his arm, Cain smiled as he looked past Tanya and simply began to walk towards the building in the distance.

And she couldn't. She really couldn't, Tanya thought, hands clenching into fists as he just walked away from her. But damn it, she was going to keep trying...

At that moment, the house exploded. More than the house; a sizeable chunk of the surrounding landscape went up with it, the flash of the explosion blinding Tanya an instant before the shockwave knocked her off her feet.

Cain didn't even pause before beginning to run towards the blast. "Son of a bitch..." he breathed before lowering his head and heading to check for his teammate.

Saul looked back at Jim, staring for a long moment as if frozen by Jim's words. Only he was nothing of the sort, as became obviously almost immediately. The change in the older man was invisible to the outward eye, but to a telepath, the static that usually filled Saul's mind faded, thoughts and images coming into sharp clarity.

Jim, his mind already opened to the fight, sensed the change. He blinked once, the faintest acknowledgement of surprise, then turned slowly to face Saul. His expression remained impassive, but the question in his mismatched eyes was clear.

This is what I asked my son if he remembered, was the clearly formulated thought at the top of Saul's mind. Easy enough to tell that he was used to speaking to telepaths. Especially when he proferred an image of himself, decades younger, and a small boy, sitting out on the ice, bundled up against the cold as they fished.

Jim withdrew instinctively, but the memory was already sinking into his mind. Another memory not his own, now lost in the rag and boneshop of too many. His jaw tightened for an instant before he could work the muscles loose. It was done. Accept, and move on.

The telepath closed his eyes, collecting himself for a handful of heartbeats before opening them again. The words came from a mind calm of thought, and without anger. "I didn't want that," he said softly.

"I don't care," Saul said, just as quietly. "I need no precognition to know how unlikely it is that I will ever be in a position to give that to my son, however today turns out. You, on the other hand, may be-"

The explosion rocked the plane on its landing gear, even from a mile away. The light that came through the windows was blinding, as if a star had fallen to earth here in Tierra del Fuego.

Jim gasped and recoiled behind his shields, the physical backlash completely eclipsed by the psychic. Too open, he'd left himself too open -- but it was gone now, as quickly as it had come. He felt something warm on his face, and when he raised his hand to his nose it came away red.

"She found him," he whispered.

When Jim looked up, however, there was no one sitting in the seat across from him. The mechanical whine of the ramp lowered was audible even over the frantic com-chatter coming from the cockpit, and Saul strode down the steps as soon as it was physically possible to do so.

Jim started to rise, then fell back into his seat. He couldn't stop the man. He couldn't even force his telepathy outward to reach for his mind. The most useful thing he could do now was recover, so that when his help was needed he'd be in a position to give it. He sat back in the chair, closed his eyes, and began to focus. First: shields. No time to spare for anything else.

And so as Paige and Angelo rushed back to find them it was only Jim's thoughts that followed Saul, murmured in the privacy of his own mind:

Goodbye.

"So anything you dislike or that doesn't fit in your world view is crap, mm? Or is it just anything I might have to say, unilaterally so?" Gideon's voice was dim, though, barely reaching through to Nathan and if any emotion underscored it, it wasn't present enough for him to discern. The expected hand did indeed rest on his shoulder again, firmly yet not cruelly so. "Soon, it will be over. That much I have seen."

But have you seen how? Gideon was a step ahead of him, if so. Nathan shuddered, wondering what the roaring in his ears was. Heartbeat? His? There was something rhythmic about it, something...

"You s-see me... I see you..." Patterns were spinning through his mind, too fast to understand or even to track. He tried to grasp them, to see what they could tell him, but there was nothing, a jumbled confusion of images, shot through with colors that hurt his head, emotions that made him want to weep...

The long view. The future that he'd seen, that he'd lived through the eyes of people who wouldn't be born for another two thousand years. It had come to him like this once before. All at once, spilling down over the centuries and filling his mind with memories and voices that weren't his. A room turned in a flash to glass. He remembered.

He remembered. All of it. Felt it again, on a visceral level. The beauty of their lives and the horror of their deaths, and the fierce struggle that could have, should have changed the world. If it had only come earlier. Before so much damage was done, before the dreams of men like his uncle had spread throughout history like a cancer.

They could have won. They should have won.

But what happened when a war could be re-fought from the beginning? From before the beginning?

There was a different color bleeding through the patterns now, a fierce, warm red-gold that didn't hurt at all. In fact, it was easier to breathe suddenly. Easier to breathe, and he could straighten in the chair, the pain not gone but pushed to a distance, giving him space.

Nathan....

She had died. He knew she had died.

Gideon was drawing back a little, stiffening, his eyes widening a little, warily. Nathan sucked in a deep, shaky breath, then another. Calm. Stay calm, wait. It was almost here. The end of the world. The end of a world.

Nathan.

She had died. But time was relative. It all depended on your perspective. Where you were standing when you said this is now and this is yet to be.

"I see you," Nathan said, his voice tight and strained and almost inaudible, "you see me. And she... she sees both of us."

There was an Askani who had died, who had come back to this time. But there was also an Askani who had not yet died, who had not yet come back, who had not yet been born...

... and it hardly mattered, in the end. There was salvation in the paradox, that was all that counted. He could sense her, that deep, powerful, pure presence, and oh, he had missed her so much...

Little brother.

And in that moment, as Nathan stared into his uncle's eyes, he saw Gideon realize. All at once, and there was no shock there, no regret or anger or denial. Only understanding and serene acceptance. That mirrored mind was reflecting his, down to the last pattern. Duplicating his powers.

Duplicating the precognition, or whatever it truly was, that had allowed Askani to see him in the first place. That had allowed her to see him - and to come back to change his life.

Gideon made as if to straighten up, and Nathan lunged forward with a sudden rush of strength, grabbing his uncle's shoulder with his free hand. Maintaining the connection. "You wanted to see her," he whispered. "Don't strain yourself. The mountain's coming to Mohammed."

I'm coming, Nathan.

I know.

Close your eyes, little brother. I love you.

And Nathan closed his eyes, not seeing the look on Gideon's face as his longed-for precognitive link to the world of two thousand years in the future exploded in light, light that took the familiar shape of a great bird of fire. The firebird screamed in a mixture of fury and triumph, hurtling down the link and across the centuries - and into Gideon's mind.

All dark towers fall, Nathan heard Askani say, and then the world vanished into white light.