A Haven to Call Home: Death Grip

[xp_erverse]

Afraid Inez won't survive the so-called mutant plague, Quentin adjures Clarice to take her to the last hope: Radha Dastoor.


Quentin stood outside the door to Inez's room in the infirmary. It was inconceivable how this tank of a woman was now bedridden, hooked up to several machines and IV bags to keep her own body from killing her. There was no help from the outside world, of course, because who cares about a disease that seemingly only targets mutants?

They were left with only one option to save Inez. He had weighed the pros and cons, but ultimately concluded that any possibility of a cure was worth the risk when one of their own was approaching death's door. That final option was all the way on the other side of the country, and not even the X-Men's jet could get them there quickly enough. So, Quentin swallowed his pride (easy enough to do in these circumstances) and marched down the hall to the one who could help.

"I wouldn't ask you for help if this weren't dire, but I need you to get Inez and me to Oregon. There's someone there who can help Inez, but we have to get there ASAP." He paused. "Please."

Narrowing her eyes at Quentin, Clarice resisted the urge to deny him on principle. This wasn't about her dislike of Quentin. "I'm going to need more than that to transport a patient anywhere," she finally replied. Inez wasn't in any shape to anywhere, even if her portals wouldn't cause additional harm.

He handed her his phone, the maps app open and centered on the commune. "There's a mutant healer there who claims to be able to heal this disease. I don't know if it's real or bullshit, but we've talked to plenty of people who swear by her, so we've got to take this chance. If it fails, then she can come back here or go to Muir or whatever you and Jean think are best."

If this failed....Muir was likely the only other option. They were a medlab and while they could run an ICU ward in the short term, they really, really weren't staffed or equipped for that in the long term. It wasn't what the medlab was created for.

Going to Inez's room, Clarice surveyed the equipment needed to transport. "Get the transport stretcher," she ordered, pointing vaguely towards where it was kept and uninterested in argument. Either Quentin would help or he didn't need it that badly. They almost never used the stretcher, it was big and bulky, but she could attach the required monitors and equipment to move Inez safely.

Quentin brokered no argument as he followed her direction to the closet that held the stretcher. He struggled to get the cumbersome device out of storage, and one misstep nearly twisted his ankle and sent the stretcher crashing down on him until he stabilized himself telekinetically. Satisfied nothing was broken, either himself or the carrier, he gently lowered it onto the floor, pulled out and locked the wheeled legs, and righted it up. That wasn't so hard, he'd make a great orderly.

He stood back while Clarice assembled whatever medical doodads she needed, then helped lift Inez (was she always so light?) onto the stretcher and secured her.

"We're taking you to Radha," he said into Inez's mind, hoping (despite all evidence otherwise, physical and psychic) she was coherent enough to understand. "So just hang on a bit. Please don't make me have to file for short-term disability insurance. You know my feelings on paperwork."

Getting Inez ready took longer than Quentin likely preferred, but once she was secure, two different poles attached loaded with IVs and various portable monitors secured both underneath the stretcher and to the second pole, they were ready. Teleporting was nearly instant and painless, but that didn't mean they had to take unnecessary risks with a patient.

Opening the portal, she pushed the stretcher through.

The portal opened in front of one of the commune's tidy bungalows. "Abhay." While it was true Quentin was happy to see the other man again (among other sensations) despite the circumstances, he couldn't admit that in front of an audience. So instead he switched back to his gentle gay facade he'd played last time around. "Thanks for getting your sister for us on short notice."

"Welcome back." Abhay offered Quentin a warm smile, his eyes fixed on the other man despite the circumstances surrounding them. "I'm so sorry you're in this situation," he added, clapping his hand on Quentin's shoulder, then looking to Inez. He frowned slightly as he studied her. "We are here to help."

The telepath offered a lopsided grin. "If Radha can do even half of what the rumors say, then we owe you one."

If there was a voice that said 'cult leader' it came from the largest of the bungalows that surrounded the compound. It was velvety, strong, compassionate, not loud but easily heard across the compound. "You owe me nothing," said the voice, and then Radha, tall and slender, dark-eyed, dark-haired, stepped out of the door. "My gifts are available to all who find the world does not favour them." Radha smiled then, and her voice was a caress as she added, "I welcome your friend to my world. It is somewhat kinder than the one we walk in now."

While she was certainly a woman who would turn heads simply on a physical basis, it was her aura, her sheer presence, that drew Quentin in. She emanated confidence, power, and also care, selflessness; she projected the image of a person who wanted to help just for the sake of helping. And there was nothing psychic at play, either. Josie and Abhay protected their thoughts with standard shields that he could surely dismantle in time, but Radha was simply not there, a person-shaped hole in the astral plane. Everything about her was her own charisma.

"Well, regardless of who owes what debt, we appreciate it," he said once he could find his words again. "So, what do we need to do?"

Clarice did not like this at all. And she did not like this Radha. It was her own paranoia, she knew that, but she had been around the mutant block too many times to accept that this was...whatever it was. The good place. Reinforcing what shields she had, that was never her strong point, Clarice stayed with Inez. "She's my patient," she stated firmly, "I stay with her. And I decide when things stop."

Radha stopped a respectful distance from Clarice and Inez, inclined her head slightly. “I am neither doctor nor nurse and I do not seek to usurp your authority.” She smiled then, a smile that would be called beatific if you weren’t suspicious. “But I do heal. That is all I offer to you; the chance to heal your patient.” She extended a hand, a welcoming gesture. “You are welcome to come into my world with her, if that would allay your fears.”

Quentin raised an eyebrow at Clarice. "We did come all this way . . ."

Did they though? Clarice perhaps thought of distance differently than most. As well as travel speed. "Yeah, yeah," she reluctantly agreed.

"Good." The telepath turned back to Radha and Abhay. "Do we need to do anything? Hold our breath? Put on a hospital gown?"

One moment the bungalows around them were neat, tidy, unremarkable. A moment later, they were overlaid with twined vines, spectacular tropical flowers dripping from them in what could only be called tasteful abundance. A small stream now burbled across the corner, the music of the water supplemented by a sitar tune that was being played upon delicate strings by an invisible musician. Radha laughed at the expression on their faces. “This is my world,” she said. “Why would I not make it both familiar and beautiful?”

Teleportation, like through Clarice's portals, always came with a moment of disorientation to Quentin, as if he had to compensate for the momentum of the rotating planet when moving instantly from one place to another. But there was no such physical confusion here. He blinked and there he was, standing in Radha's world as if he had always been here. The only clue he was elsewhere, besides the perfumed botanicals and music, was the almost deafening psychic silence. Whereas back on the commune, he was bombarded by a hundred minds, here he just sensed Clarice's, Inez's, and Abhay's, the latter still protected by his mighty shields. And Radha's was still nowhere to be found.

"Moment of truth, then," he muttered.

“Shall I be conventional?” asked Radha, conversationally. She placed her hand on Inez’s forehead, ignoring Clarice’s glare. “Mutter some arcane words, wave some incense censers around, pretend to draw on the powers of Kali? Or can I skip all of that, because you understand that mutant powers don’t need chicanery to make them work?” Her tone, which had been nothing but compassionate benevolence, was sharp for a moment, but then it mellowed again. “That I only have to say ‘she is cured’ and your friend now is cured,” Radha said, removing her hand from Inez’s forehead.

On cue, Inez moaned and writhed a little in place, eyes still shut but head turning back and forth ever so slightly. After a few more seconds of that, her eyelids fluttered open then closed again, not used to any light at all for so long. One arm groggily raised up, still attached to an IV, and alternated between shielding and rubbing her eyes.

"W-what... where'm'I?" she slurred, not like before, this time from a long slumber and not from the disease with which she'd been previously afflicted.

Checking her vitals though they hadn't changed substantially, Clarice patted her arm reassuringly, "We're getting you help," she said softly, still not convinced, but she couldn't pinpoint what felt so hinky.

"You're literally in the middle of nowhere, but good news, turns out don't have to go to fucking Scotland." Still, Quentin couldn't totally hide the smile that appeared when Inez regained coherence. He looked over at Radha, who despite the miracle work, seemed no worse for the wear. "Is that really it? We done?"

Clarice went to open a portal and it...fizzled? She could see it trying to open, the disc swirling before dying. It almost looked like it was going down the toilet. "What the hell?" she demanded. This wasn't cool.

“If all you desire is for your friend to be cured, then yes, we are done.” Radha smiled. “And in case you are wondering whether that cure only applies in my world…” The sitar playing ended mid-note, the burbling of the brook ending just as abruptly as the vines disappeared from the bungalows, “then let me assure you that she will remain cured in the ‘real world’ as well.” Somehow, without making any physical movements, Radha managed to convey the quotation marks she placed around “real world”.

Quentin could never be the psychic healer Haller or Jean were, but he could at least see the fog starting to clear from Inez's mind. He pulled his telepathy back so he did not inadvertently undo Radha's cure, and turned to her and her brother. "I'm gonna hang here for a bit longer, if you don't mind. I'd like to talk about what you just did here."

"Of course," Abhay nodded. "It's like I told you," he again locked eyes with Quentin, "you're always welcome here."

"We're leaving," Clarice stated, more than ready. This time, when she went to open a portal, it opened as smoothly as always. A moment later, they were gone.

Quentin held Abhay's gaze as the teleporter and patient vanished, and smiled wickedly as it passed to Radha. "Good. Now you can tell me the truth."

~*~

Afterwards, Radha explains her vision to Quentin and offers him a role in her future.


Quentin needed a drink. Or a hit of Special K. Something to take the edge off the harrowing adventure of accompanying a faith healer to another dimension to cure an incurable disease. And he had just been a spectator, not the patient! But he had seen Inez degrade, frightened by her approach to death's door. And then she was back up, recovering as if she'd only been suffering a bad flu. How could he process that kind of miracle without his own chemical intervention?

After Clarice had ported Inez back to New York for observation and Abhay left to attend to his tasks, Quentin was just left with the healer herself. Still a telepathic enigma even after she had exerted that level of power.

"That was incredible," he said to her. "Thank you again for helping Inez."

Radha smiled. “You speak as if you are surprised I would bestow such a favour, that I would seek some return or… moral payment for it. I do not see it that way.” Her focus suddenly changed from Quentin’s face to some distance far behind, far through him, to some vision that thrilled her. “I have been called,” she breathed, “and I follow that calling.”

"Uh, yeah." Or he needed whatever she was on. That seemed like the good shit. "Well, not many mutants as generous as you. Most would want something in return, so you'll forgive me for implicating that. But, you know, see if you can get who called you to call everyone else." Though that's obviously what she was doing, running this cult out-of-the-way commune. "It's pretty impressive how you've built this place up, made it self-sufficient. I don't mean that condescendingly. You're actually off the grid. It's no meager feat."

Radha’s focus returned to Quentin’s face. “It is needed,” she said, gravely. “Great change is coming. Terrible change. I have been blessed with a great gift.” She touched her chest lightly. “I hold a haven in my heart, a world of safety and healing. But I cannot hold all that will need help there when the change comes. So,” she nodded at the compound around them, “we have made as much of a haven in this world as we can manage, and I can only hope that it’s enough.”

"How bad can the change be when this is the world we're currently living in?" Quentin muttered dryly. She seemed unbothered by his snark, but not in the Oh he's just a dumb kid who doesn't know better way he was so used to. Had she nodded in agreement with him? "We're seeing mutant communities in big cities starting to fracture because of this plague. People are afraid to gather, 'cuz what if someone flares and blows up? Do we have another M-Day coming? People are scared. New Yorkers generally don't give a shit about anything, but even in District X, there's an air of dread."

“The difficulties we see now are but the first steps on the road to a far greater challenge, Quentin,” Radha said. She smiled, but it was melancholy. “I am glad that you perceive that the road before us is one that can lead only to horror. We can all see it, but so many people try to deny what is so clear.”

"Hmm. I just can't figure out where this is coming from. This isn't HIV or ebola, mutants aren't eating bush meat or hanging around bats. Mutant communities specifically getting poisoned? But then it'd be even more widespread." Quentin rubbed his temples to relieve the building pressure in his head. "I wanted to go through Inez's memories, see if she remembered any clues, but it was a goddamn mess in her head. Telepathic intrusion would've fucked her up, maybe even beyond your healing."

Radha glanced at Quentin sharply. “A telepath. You see,” she said, “the universe does provide. I believe you are the key that is needed to unlock the door.”

"Usually when that metaphor is applied to me, it's that I'm a terrible lock because any key opens me up. So what exactly do you think I'm the key for?" Hopefully her brother, but Abhay wasn't around to confirm.

“You have seen the signs,” Radha began. “The Mahapralaya is coming. You would call it the Great Dissolution. Not the end,” she smiled suddenly, almost self-deprecating. “I do not preach apocalyptic fire. But it is change. An… unraveling. Of society, of nature, of civilisation. Everything begins to fray at the edges now. Plagues come. Unrest comes. Pain comes. But I have seen that it is not the end,” and Radha’s expression became distant again, beatific, “beyond the Mahapralaya lies a golden age, for those who survive.” She refocused on Quentin, waved a graceful hand at the compound surrounding them. “This is what I have built. A haven, as much as I can. For those who have been gifted with powers first, because otherwise they shall bear the brunt of humanity’s panic when the dying days come.” She drew her fist to her chest, a drawing in movement. “But you have just seen the haven I hold in my heart. It is small and I am too weak to hold all who I would seek to save. But with your gift I believe that I can shore up the walls of my haven, make it real in a way I have not had the strength to do. A place for mutants to come and be safe from the Mahapralaya.”

Quentin listened to the whole sermon, dissected it in his head, mulled over the pieces. "You have to understand you sound like a fucking nutcase," he said, deciding there was no gentle way to convey his point. "Like, the world's falling apart, but it's been falling apart since it was built. You say you're not preaching an apocalypse, but in the same breath you talk about how the end of everything is close at hand. You sound like how D'Aulaires' Book of Norse Myths describes Ragnarok. The death of all things except a privileged couple who rebuild and repopulate in peace. And you're going to be the Yggdrasil that shelters those survivors? You and me?"

Still, the idea of a mutant stronghold removed from the material world, a fully separate mutant society, by mutants for mutants, safe from the flatscans who are chomping at the bit for genocide . . . It was a wise move. Wasn't this exactly what he had told Cyndi and Jean would be absolutely necessary to secure a safe future for mutantkind? And here Radha was saying he was the key to it?

He had to give her props. She wouldn't have become an effective cult leader if she didn't know how to read people and give them something to desire and obsess over.

"Hypothetically speaking, how would my telepathy help?"

Radha’s eyes lit up with joy. “You have seen what my power can do,” she said, a certain urgency in her words. “That I can make a world to my will, bend it how I want. But it is all only according to my will and time erodes will, always. No matter how I try, no matter how I train, each time my thoughts wander, the needs of others press upon my attention, my people call me to solve yet another problem; each time, a part of my world slips away. Oh, I can rebuild it again each time, exactly the same as I will, but I cannot hold it in place. Which means I cannot hold it safe for those who need to harbour in it when the Mahapralaya comes. It needs a strength of mind, a power I do not have.”

For a moment Radha paused, looked across the compound. She turned back and smiled at Quentin then, an almost transcendent smile. “When Abhay told me about what happened to your friend Inez, I feared that she had caught her illness here, that the healing I had done when she was visiting had infected her. That it was a sign that I had made a terrible mistake. But it was not. Because her illness is what brought you here and in you I see what I need. The universe has given me purpose and it brings to me those things that I require to keep my… our… people safe. I see in you a power… a strength of mind that will shore up the walls of my haven, make it whole, make it a place where all our people can shelter as the Great Dissolution tears apart the human world, remakes it into something new and wondrous. With you,” Radha breathed, and for the very first time reached out, touched Quentin’s forearm, the lightest brush of fingertips, “I see our people walk out into a world made anew, just for us, the first people of a golden age.”

Xavier's swarm all accused Quentin Quire of being a Magneto hanger-on. The risk of betrayal was high, they all thought, even as they had embraced one Brotherhood defector and successfully chased out another. But what did they know? Yes, Quentin had growing plans for how to reshape the world, but Magneto was never part of it.

Radha Dastoor was.

"I still think this Mahapralaya stuff is fantasy garbage," he said bluntly, staring directly into her deep brown eyes. But he wore a devilish smile and reached out to clasp her hand. "But tell me more about how we'll create the mutant Promised Land."