xp_logs | Blessed Are The Peacemakers: Hard Rain (Reply)

Nathan and Jean reach Shatoy and find Saidullayev, and find an interesting new take on the 'worst-case scenario'.

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,
I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

"I forgot there'd be this much snow," Nathan said grimly as he and Jean made their way to the top of a ridgeline where they could look down on Shatoy. "January in the Caucasus. Who'd have thought." Almost despite himself, he gave her a quick, sideways smile, and if it had a certain amount of perverse glee in it... well, it had been a while since he'd done anything quite this bold-slash-foolish without the bulk of the X-Men. Feels like old times...

"You know you're not allowed to fall into any rivers, right? Amelia would not only kill you, she'd be after me for letting you." Automatically Jean reached up to pull the hat she'd tucked her hair into more securely down onto her head. Her hair might not be as distinctive as Lorna's, but it would certainly stand out in the middle of a snowstorm, or in a crowd of Chechens.

"Not to worry. Pneumonia is not on my list of things to do this winter." Nathan crouched at the top of the ridgeline, Jean sinking down beside him. Shatoy was quiet, not surprising given the cold. It was a typical Caucasus village, buildings clustered around the intersection of two dirt roads. Many of the buildings still showed visibly repaired damage from all the fighting over the years. "Tanks rolled through here, once upon a time," he said more quietly. "1996, I think it was..."

"Seems calm enough now." For which Jean was profoundly grateful. "Here's hoping it stays that way."

"Amen," Nathan murmured ironically, then glanced sideways at her. "Shall we look together?" he asked, thinning out his shields. "Probably less energy-intensive if we do." Plus, it was always somewhat awkward to 'trip over' another telepath while doing a wide scan.

"Hmm?" Looking away from the view, which was kind of lovely in its own way, Jean nodded. "Oh, yes. Absolutely." The merge of their powers was almost instinctive.

He felt more confident in general, merged with Jean. Fortunately they hadn't had to do too much encouraging people not to notice them so far, so they were both fresh - or relatively so, given the rigors of the trip so far. Together, they extended their linked minds out over Shatoy, seeking Saidullayev's mental pattern among the thousand or so inhabitants.

#My fragile optimism is withering away. He should be easier to find than this,# Nathan said doubtfully, after five minutes or so.

#His shields are strong,# Jean agreed, pushing out a little farther past the edges of the village, #but if nothing else that should show up...#

#Is it possible that his psi-pattern changed after Derbent?# Nathan asked. #... wait, no, that doesn't make any sense. I recognized his mind from a distance there.# The patterns had been identifiable, just fractured.

Jean didn't articulate her response to that, but let her doubt color her mind as she sifted through the village once again. The level of change a mind had to go through to significantly change their psi-pattern... #More likely he's learned how to hide better.#

#He could have gotten a lot second-hand from Magneto.# Magneto might not have been a telepath himself, but all those years of associating with Charles meant he was as well-informed a non-psi as could be. #I'd think he'd draw undue attention if he was down there wearing his very own dorky helmet, though.#

Now there was a mental image, and Jean couldn't have avoided sharing even if she'd wanted to. Which, luckily, she didn't. #What, exactly, did he say again?# she asked, once she'd gotten control of herself.

#He told me he'd wait for me in Shatoy. That he needed me to help him figure out what to do now.# It had sounded sincere. Not that the man had sounded all that balanced, when it came right down to it, but surely he wouldn't have left? Nathan sighed, ducking his head for a moment. #You're not going to like this, but I think we need to go down there.#

Jean shot him a Look. #You're right, I don't like it.#

#But what's the alternative?# His mental voice was vivid with frustration. #We turn around and go home now? 'Sorry, can't find him.' What if he is down there, and we lose the one chance to talk him into a place where we can call the team in, smack him upside the head and get him locked up safely?# Memories of the wreckage of Derbent passed between them involuntarily. They'd linked like this often enough that the communication wasn't always conscious.

#And if it is a trap?# The images of Derbent shifted, overlaying the war scars on the walls and streets of Shatoy.

#Then we get out. You notice what we don't sense down there.# No Chechen guerrillas and/or Russian troops expecting an assault, no awareness from the inhabitants that there were strangers in town. No suspiciously familiar psi-patterns, or equally suspicious blank spots.

Jean considered him for a long moment, then turned her attention back to the town, combing through the minds there once more. Finally she nodded. #Let's go.#

Nathan nodded and stood, holding onto the link with her as he did. It would be a lot easier in town to stay unnoticed if they didn't have to talk. Getting down the side of the rise was a bit of a trudge - it wasn't as steep as the other side, but the snow was deeper - but no vehicles came along the road as they were on their way down. Or on their way up the road and into town. The quiet was downright creepy, even if they were getting towards nightfall.

We're not here. he thought, turning away the attention of someone who chose the moment he and Jean were passing to look out the window of her house.

#Fiji,# Jean told him, even as she created a false wind to blow snow back into their tracks, covering them over. #Acapulco. Tahiti.#

#Bitch, bitch.#

They walked through the village slowly, deliberately, giving themselves plenty of time to redirect the minimal attention they received, and to scan each house more thoroughly. Nathan's nerves were wound a little tighter with each minute that passed. Had they taken too long to get here? Was Saidullayev still unstable enough that the attempt to reach out had been a transitory one, a now-forgotten impulse?

He had to be here somewhere.

They had nearly exhausted the possibilities when they reached one house occupied by a single, oddly quiet psi-pattern. If they hadn't been right outside the door, it would have gotten lost in the background noise.

Patterned. Controlled. Nathan crouched down on one side of a window, giving Jean a significant look.

Jean had taken up a position on the other side of the window instinctively as Nate knelt down. There was something familiar about the mind... familiar, but not. If that was Saidullayev, he'd changed far more than they'd thought.

#Something's very off here.# Nathan let his breath out on a sigh that would have been shaky, had it been audible. He should have known. Since when was any situation like this ever what it seemed, in his life? The brief fit of recriminations was carefully hidden from everyone save the woman linked mind-to-mind with him. It was also over almost as soon as it hit.

He looked up again, giving Jean a steady look. #Your choice, Red. Do we back off or go in and talk to him?# There wasn't anything overtly hostile about the psi-pattern inside. Far from it, as a matter of fact. Which was what was rubbing him the wrong way. Too calm. Saidullayev was entirely too calm.

Jean took a deep breath, caution warring with the knowledge that they weren't going to get another chance. And if the calm in the mind inside presaged a trap, well, it was also the closest she'd ever sensed to sane, which meant maybe they'd actually be able to talk to the man. #We've come too far to go back now...# she finally said.

Nathan gazed across at her for a moment and then nodded, rising and going to the door. Feeling a sudden and thankfully transitory urge to laugh, he knocked. When there was no response, he opened the door, aware of Jean's wariness as she followed him in.

Saidullayev was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the main room of the tiny house, his eyes closed. Meditating? Nathan thought, his eyes narrowing. That could explain the quietness of his mind. But where would he have picked that up?

"Saidullayev." His voice, though low, seemed unnaturally loud in the silence of the room. "It's Dayspring."

Saidullayev opened his eyes. "I know." His voice was calm, absolutely steady. He looked up at Nathan for a long moment before his eyes moved to Jean. "I remember you, too. From Moscow."

Jean gave him a flat eyed look, senses pushed as far as she could, waiting. For now she'd let Nate take the lead.

"So we're here," Nathan said, moving forward very slightly into the room. Just enough to give Jean room to move if she had to. It was taking huge amounts of effort to keep his voice steady and his body language unthreatening. The man sitting on the floor had nearly killed him twice. It evoked a certain instinctive reaction that was hard to set that aside just because he'd asked for help. "Given any more thought as to where we might go next?"

Saidullayev's smile was a little too twisted to hold any real humor, although his eyes were still calm. "Quite a bit. I considered many options, during the night." His accent wasn't as heavy as Nathan had expected. "But you made decent time getting here."

"We weren't sure you'd still be here, if we took too long."

"Where else would I be?" Saidullayev rose smoothly, and Nathan didn't quite manage not to jerk away at the sudden movement. "I called you for a reason, Dayspring," he went on, moving to the window. "To see if you'd come. She said you would."

He looked sideways at Nathan, and the twisted smile came back, accompanied by a speculative look. The next words were clearly and carefully enunciated, in the way that someone unfamiliar with a language would recite a memorized phrase.

"~She knew you would come,~" he said. In Askani.

Jean managed, barely, not to let her jaw hit the floor, but her eyes widened in shock. #What the hell?#

Nathan took a step forward, before he could stop himself. A set-up, it was a set-up, just not the one he'd expected. "~What is this?~" he snapped back at Saidullayev, in Askani. The other man just gazed at him, clearly not comprehending the words. "What," he grated out in English, "is this?"

Saidullayev's smile lingered. "This is many things. What is the saying, in English - 'out with the old, in with the new'?" He looked back at the window, gesturing. "I thought you might like to see, Dayspring. Nathan. They're coming."

Nathan jolted forward, at the window beside Saidullayev before caution could kick in at the increased proximity. But the threat wasn't here with the other telekinetic, it was... "Oh God," he breathed, seeing the approaching shapes in the sky. "What did you do?"

"I? Nothing," Saidullayev said, sounding mildly pleased. "Mi-28s, I think. It flatters, that they would send their newest hardware for me..." He took a step back from the window, smiling still. "One last battle at Shatoy, no? I must appreciate the symmetry."

#Those are Russian attack helicopters, Jean, we've got to get out of here-# Even as he sent the warning to Jean, Nathan whirled on Saidullayev, his attack already taking shape.

He had been anticipated, however; the lash of telekinesis bounced off a shield, separating Saidullayev from him and Jean. The Chechen telekinetic was still, absurdly, smiling. Even more widely.

"Oh, not to worry, Dayspring," he said. "I don't intend to stay." He stared hard at his shield for a moment - and then turned, fleeing out the other door. And the shield stayed, even when he was out of line of sight.

#Definitely time to be getting the hell out of here.# With the shield in place it would take too long for them to break through to use the back door, and with the helicopters coming into range anyone coming out the front would be seen in seconds. Jean reached out towards the helicopters, trying to discern which minds were which - who had the controls to the gunnery and if it would be possible to get them not to see herself and Nate.

Nathan reached out with her, supporting her efforts, even as he sent a wisp of thought out after Saidullayev, tracking him. That quiet mind was quiet no longer, but soaring with triumph. He was happy - no, thrilled, to see a sneak attack on a separatist stronghold. On people who fought for the same cause to which he'd dedicated the bulk of his adult life. What the fuck is going on?

The helicopters opened fire on the west end of town. Nathan swallowed back bile and anger and glanced sideways at Jean as they headed for the door. "We've got to follow him," he said, even as he kept working telepathically.

The technique he used wasn't something he'd ever employed on this scale before, but anger and the realization that it was the only way he could help without directly engaging Russian troops lent force to his projection. In and of itself, it was simple. Blur the minds of the gunners just far enough, and they wouldn't be able to find their targets. It wouldn't last long, but it would give the people of Shatoy five minutes, maybe ten, to clear out and get into the mountains. They'd be harder to chase, scattered, and the separatists had to have fallback positions around here somewhere.

Jean clenched her jaw for a moment then nodded. "Come on." Leaving the helicopters to Nate she broadcast a mild aversion to the street, discouraging anyone who might still be around from seeing the two of them as they darted outside.

Oh, what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what'll you do now, my darling young one?
I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin',
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
Where the executioner's face is always well hidden,
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color, where none is the number,
And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',
But I'll know my song well before I start singin',
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.