Thermopylae ~ Aftermath // In the early morning hours...

[x-dazzler.livejournal.com]

Alison keeps her promise to the end, and finds unexpected help along the way.

I know good things, I know bad as well
Any witness to the world will tell
If there is sorrow, then there is beauty and trust
A secret pearl inside the heart of us...
  ~ Delerium, Truly

She had been staring at the smooth metal surface of the floor for a while, Alison realized. Silence reigned in the hangar bay, reminding her only too clearly of the silence which had enveloped her earlier, in the midst of battle. Holding up the shield, watching as Nathan fought on the other side, feeling the ground crumble slowly underfoot with each wave of sonic Mick fired at her back. A memory flickered in her mind's eye, Mick looking over the lake only a few days ago, with a half-amazed expression on his face, still in awe at the fact that children could live so freely and learn to use their powers as they did at the mansion.

His eyes were closed now. She remembered only too well closing them herself, just a few hours ago. It felt like an eternity.

Slowly, Alison pushed herself to her feet and walked up the ramp leading into the Blackbird, one hand brushing slowly at the sonic device still embedded in her suit - the only one that worked, still. A faint metallic smell remained in the area, a reminder of the blood stains still lingering on the floor, and the body bags neatly placed in a corner. When she was done cleaning the cargo bay, she would be taking of that as well.

Light, flat and effective, danced down the side of a panel, the low hiss of blood evaporating instantly under a low level laser the only sound breaking the silence. The gesture was repeated, again and again, every portion of the cargo bay being cleaned bit by bit.

The rest of the house was live with activity. Staff and students rushed between the medlabs and the housing wings, on one of the thousand things that needed to be done. The assault on Mistra had touched the lives of everyone living there, and work served as a substitute for thought as they struggled to deal with the consequences.

Remy had simply disappeared out of his office. The entire plan had been set up while he was chasing down Wisdom, and he'd come home to a school virtually empty of adults and staff. No one had a terribly clear idea of what was planned, and Xavier had resisted providing full details to him, lines of worry drifting over his features.

When the Blackbird landed, and spilled the leftover carnage into the hanger, everyone was caught up in the aftermath, leaving LeBeau to ghost around the edges. Now, the hanger was the only quiet point in the storm, and he naturally was drawn to it.

Blood dripped from the rear access way into the jet, and more of it was inside the body of it. He caught sight of Blaire, her own leathers splashed with blood, working her way with zombie-like meticulousness back and forth over the pools.

It was the smell that kept her from slipping away, really - she could absorb the sound of what she was doing, draw it in and not hear it if need be, even if she could feel it in her bones, but the smell of blood was inescapable even once it was gone or so it seemed. Then again, whenever she surfaced from the quietness in her own mind to take stock of her surroundings, it seemed as though the blood was still there despite what she'd done to clear it away previously, and the two body bags in the far corner of the hold stood out far too clearly in contrast to the stark metal.

She couldn't move them now, though, even though there were gurneys nearby ready for that. First she had to finish cleaning the hold, and holding her breath, feeling as though she'd been doing that every since going to the island, Alison widened the radius of the laser. She weaved unsteadily, the drain suddenly harder than she'd expected, and with one hand tapped on her thigh, activating the sonic enhancer still inset in her suit before going on with her task.

The air of the hanger stirred as the ventilation system kicked in, but Alison never noticed the sudden coolness against her bare back, the frittered edges of her uniform shifty slightly with her every motion.

Remy tightened his jaw as the bleed off from her sonics hit him, making his teeth ache. Blaire seemed oblivious to him, equally unnoticing of her torn uniform or the hanger's chill. His eyes flicked over to the two body bags in the corner, the moment of alarm disappearing when he realized that if any of the X-Men were in them, the rumors would have already made it to him. Must be two of Nathan's squad; the ex-Mistra ops who went after the main base. Obviously a couple hadn't made it home.

She caught sight of him as she turned to do another sweep, but other than a momentary registering of his presence, her eyes slipped past him and back to the pools of blood. The cold dull look in her gaze was something that Remy had seen many times before; too often he'd been the cause of it. It was a person who's been through something that they couldn't even have imagined the day before, and now their brain was shutdown, trying to process it behind mundane activities.

Judging by the bodies, Remy guessed this was the first time Alison Blaire had come back missing people, and that realization was just waiting to hit her like a hammer. Normally, this would be his cue to leave. Private grief was not Remy's forte, and since Blaire would likely stick her own hand in a grinder before asking for his help, he couldn't imagine his presence providing any help.

Two things stopped him. The pair of body bags in the corner. Ridiculous former popstar or not, she didn't leave her people behind. It paused him, making him pull back and look over the scene again.

She was, she thought, nearly done. A last flare of light, brighter than any of the others, the sizzling sound echoing in the hanger, and it was over with. Staring down at the now strangely pristine floor, Alison tried to focus on what needed to be done next, a corner of her mind calmly informing her that it was normal that the smell of blood should still be there, since there was some on her uniform, imbibed in the leather. And then there was the slight stain on the wall, Alison running her fingertips just barely over it to deal with it until it was no more.

After a few seconds, she brushed one hand down along her thigh, stilling the sonics feeding her power, and then looked slowly towards the body bags. She wasn't done yet - the most important part of all was to come, now. Looking around the blackbird's insides she finally caught sight of the gurney she would need. Moving over to it, she closed her hands on the handle, the feel of the cold metal echoing through her briefly before settling in with everything else, and with a slight heave she set it into motion, directing it towards the area where the bodies still rested. And would until she moved them elsewhere.

Thy songs were meant for the proud and free.

The lyrics drifted through her mind, nearly bringing her to a still, and Alison tripped - only the gurney kept her from falling entirely and she leaned on it heavily for a moment. Emotions nearly bubbled up to the surface but were pushed down methodically instead. Now was not the time. She had one last promise to keep, first. And with that she set the gurney into motion again, with short, precise and mechanical steps.

She stopped the gurney beside the body bags, taking a moment to look at them before bending down, totally uncaring about LeBeau’s silent watch. Alison took the edge of the body bag and heaved, but despite her strain, the limp weight of the dead man was too heavy to lift easily, too heavy to be accorded any dignity in motion if she tried to do this on her own. She tried again, nearly slipping on the metal surface. Closing her eyes, she made one last effort, willing the weight to move in away that would not be awkward or graceless.

Amazingly, this time it did, coming up into the air and settling carefully on the gurney. Remy looked across from the gurney at her, his own expression guarded and closed. There were no words between them, not even a significant look or motion. As one, they bent down again to pick up the second corpse, heavy and awkward in the thick bag, and pulled it up to rest next to the first victim.

Alison paused for a moment at that, staring down at the gurney and what rested upon it. Then looked at the ramp leading from the 'bird down in into the hanger, the sharp incline it represented. And back at Remy, with a clear gaze. With someone to brace it on the way down, it would go gently, she knew.

She started to speak, trying to tell him she couldn't do it alone - and then stopped instead, even as she rested one hand on the back of the gurney. Talking felt wrong, as though only silence would be the proper tribute to this particular moment.

And somehow, she thought Remy would understand that, despite all of their differences.

Together they manhandled the gurney to the edge of the bay, at the lip of the exit ramp. Remy took most of the weight on the way down, guiding the gurney slowly down on to the floor of the hanger. He’d watched these sorts of things before; small squads bringing in their own, not letting the job fall to crew or the medical team. You took them out and you brought them back, no matter what.

They got the load down and in front of the elevator, away from the Blackbird. Remy noticed the tags on the bags were blank and empty. He turned to say something, but Alison was already fingering a pen.

It was one of the permanent markers Haroun always kept on the 'bird, used in particular for when parts were being scrapped, to be identified for analysis before being... disposed of. Alison's lips thinned at that thought, but she kept her hold on the pen during the elevator ride, the space they were in taken up nearly entirely by the gurney, the bright plastic envelopes of the body bags gleaming brightly under the stark lighting.

Her eyes fell on the frittered edge of her sleeve, bare hands holding the slim black pen. She knew the bloodstains were there, the memory of Mick's life blood seeping into the ground even once the medics had removed the body still burning bright. Swallowing heavily, she carefully retrieved both name tags, meticulously setting them down before uncapping the pen. The noise of felt on paper seemed ridiculously loud in the small space, the black on white standing out starkly as she carefully printed out their names, willing her hand to remain steady.

Somehow, it did, until she capped the pen again and straightened up, head turning to glance at the elevator doors as they slid open silently. She looked at Remy again, and at the gentle motion he made towards the gurney, reminded herself that they still weren't done, yet.

They wheeled the gurneys into the elevator, the embossed X sliding closed and made whole before them. Remy pressed the lower level button, watching out of the corner of his eye as Alison sagged against the wall, pressing her head to the cool steel. It was all too familiar.

As Gambit, he had lived and thrilled in the missions, the danger. Learned to like the blood and the pain. But after they had ripped his mind apart, sending him on the streets with no memories, his own feelings had changed. When the memories began to leak through as dreams, he remembered the horror of them. Throwing up as images of shattered bodies and ruined faces imposed themselves with icy clarity in his mind.

That same cycle of brutality had imprinted itself on Alison, and he could feel honest sympathy for the coming nights of guilt, fear and pain that were waiting for her in the coming days. The only way to avoid that would mean that she didn't care, and Remy had new doubts about that.

The coolness of the steel walls was comforting, somehow, even as it was a chilling reminder of exactly where the two being escorted would ultimately end. The elevator ride seemed to last a million years, just as it was oh too short and as the doors opened, Alison took a deep breath - push back, stand up straight, and finish the last of her duty with the dignity it deserved. The gurney was light and easy to move - Remy helping again, she realized, as they skirted the edge of the medlab, slipping by to reach the cold room. The equivalent of a morgue, the only place which could serve the needed purpose.

The sliding table was easy to pull out of the wall casing - three of them, only two which would be needed. And again, the moving of the body bags was done in quiet, the gurney pushed up beside the table and the bodies transferred with quiet respect, Alison biting her lip as they worked, so as to not speak, fearing the only sound she could manage would be a scream.

The name tags were slid into the slots on each of the doors, the tired trembling of her hands nearly defeating her as she worked - somehow, the quiet presence nearby felt almost supportive, and she found herself neatly setting the last one in the door easily on the last try, fingers trailing over the name standing out crisply on the white paper, before she took a step back.

And with that, it was done. Promise kept. Both of them back home, one last time.

Alison turned, idly considering the torn uniform, the blood and dirt that streaked her, with the random thought process of shock. It was almost a surprise to realize that Gambit was gone. She hadn't heard him leave, not aware that in the seconds after her finishing the tags, he had slipped out.

It this point, he had done all that he could for her. There was no comfort to be had from him, only the support on getting a job done, and then nothing left. Remy avoided the other students and staff out of the mansion, and back to the boathouse. Leaving the mansion to pull together as a group, turn to the people that they could trust.

~*~

Comfort can be found ~ or can find you, and carry you for the last few steps...

I'm dancing in the shadows of life
And death is all around me tonight
The change to come was yesterday
Beside myself I'm holding you tight
Beside myself my soul to keep
  ~ Sophie B. Hawkins, Right Beside You

Haroun poked his head into the women's locker room. "Alison?" he said, projecting his voice just in case anyone else was there. "You there?"

There was a pause before a faint whisper reached him. "Yes." Alison had nearly remained silent, but it was Haroun and even with just his voice calling out to her, it brought back warmth, to a degree. She wasn't sure she was ready to reach for all of that, though - standing on the edge of a precipice with no end to it that she could fathom, the sound of the marker on paper as she wrote down Tim's name, and then Mick's, still echoing for some reason.

Haroun rounded the row of lockers with a small smile on his face - he'd always wondered what the women's locker room looked like, and now he knew. Why is it, he wondered, that they got all the best stuff while the guys wallowed in their own filth? "Hey." he said, once he saw her slumped over on a bench. "You left my jacket on the floor of the Hangar." he told her, sitting down next to her, but not smotheringly close. "I'm guessing you forgot about it."

That's what had been missing, she realized, what had been nagging at her every now and then while she cleaned up the 'bird and... kept her promise, as well. Even having gone through it all, it was simpler to just think of it as that, than what it had been in terms of motions and gestures. A small nod answered him, Alison turning her head slowly to look in his direction, the cracks in the numbness finally starting to show. "I didn't remember where I'd left it." The lost look that followed had nothing to do with the jacket, nor the tremor that ran through her body.

"No worries. I found it, it's currently undergoing the Goo Soak to purge out the smells and recharge the cooling gel." he said with a grin. He didn't miss the tremor, but to move too quickly was to court disaster. He'd seen this sort of thing before - he'd BEEN in that sort of a situation before. "Would you like to get some dinner?" he asked her lightly. "You pumped out more photons than a Judas Priest extravaganza. Body needs fuel. I'm hungry, and I thought you might be as well."

She wasn't hungry, despite the gnawing ache. She didn't want to be hungry, and a sudden nausea at the thought of doing something to mundane, so normal, as though nothing had happened hit hard and strong. There had been so many sonics pumped through her that her bones still resonated with them, even if she was running on empty from just cleaning the 'bird and she'd managed to output that much power only because Mick had provided what she'd needed to be able to do so. The coolness of the air at her back reminded her of that, and she looked down at her hands, turnings the palms upwards. There were clean of blood, courtesy of the lasers used not so long ago - but the sleeves were still bloodstained she knew. More than just the sleeves. A shudder ran through her, then another, and Alison tugged at the edge of the sleeves, wanting the suit off more than anything in the world, all of a sudden.

He was expecting that sort of a reaction, and had cleverly stopped by on the way to the locker room to grab some Xavier's sweats. He patiently waited for her to claw her shredded remnants of uniform off, then offered her the sweatshirt and sweatpants. "You're on your own for underwear, but I can give you these." he said with a grin. "I'm still not brave enough to go through your closet by myself."

She didn't reach for the offered clothing just yet - instead, there was a brief, incandescent flare of light, heat warping the floor slightly where Alison stood. She then reached for the sweats with trembling hands, pulling on articles of clothing before taking a few steps closer to Haroun, to slowly rest her head on his shoulder. Breathing. One slow breath after another, sometimes unsteady but always there despite it all - unlike the pattern she'd listened to earlier, until it stopped. She'd started crying at one point, she realized dimly, from the warmth trickling down her cheeks, the tightness of her throat.

"Come on, let it out. Mourn for the dead." he murmured to her as he let her ride it all out. "Mourn them, but celebrate their lives. Celebrate life." he told her as she broke down completely. "We all have the dead in our lives." he said, remembering something quite different entirely.

She clung to him as she wept, the tearing sobs racking her body without grace or beauty, the sudden explosion of grief taking over entirely from the numbness that had been there before. Face buried against him, a low keen escaping her with each breath even as she held on for all she was worth, not letting him go. And it didn't matter that her knees were giving way slowly because she had him to lean against, and his live to treasure just now, for all the deaths and everything else she had to mourn on this day.

Haroun stroked her hair and waited for her to sob herself out. "Honor their sacrifice." he said softly as she slowly struggled to compose herself. "Make their sacrifice mean something. That's the best way to quiet the restless dead." he said solemnly. "The hurt will fade, in time."

"Tim didn't know. That it'd worked. Gone before." The words were torn out, interrupted by short, hard sobs. But her eyes were open and even with the pain there was something steady, as well. Somehow they'd made it to the floor and he was holding her close, leaning on the lockers. "But Mick knew." A short breath taken, face briefly buried against him against to savor the reality of him, the life she was holding on to. Another breath, tears still present but unbroken by anything else, this time. "Told him. Made sure he knew before," the barest of hesitations, "he died."

Haroun nodded. "Whatever helps you get through the night." he said soothingly. "You got the opportunity to tell him. Treasure that." He said bitterly. "You have no idea how much you'd regret it if you didn't."

She pulled back at that, her face mere inches away from his, something lost and raw still lurking in the depth of her eyes. "I wish I could have told Tim, too." And she wished she hadn't had to tell Anika, hadn't had Mick blood on her as the feral woke up. She wished she could offered something, anything to help make it easier for her, even though she knew nothing would have done that. She leaned in again, cheek pressed against his, lips brushing against his ear lightly. "I'm so glad you're all right." The whisper was low, without echo in the room - but fervent and heartfelt, nonetheless.

"I'm fine." he said. "Just a few bumps and bruises. Apparently it was Nathan's turn to go through the meat grinder." he added. "I was more worried about you. When I saw that globe go up, I thought it was your death song."

"I..." Her limbs were shaking now and exhaustion was hitting home hard, but his presence and warmth were seeping through her, grounding her even with the grief still hovering around her quietly. "I thought so too." Her lips moved, the barest hint of a smile though it faded nearly instantly. "I didn't mean to scare you when I-" said goodbye, Alison's mind supplied helpfully, though she left it unsaid. "I just had to tell you. In case."

Haroun shrugged that off. "I ... I thought I was prepared. To let you go to your Eternal Reward, whatever that might be. But that's a discussion for another time. I'd like to think I'd see you again in Paradise, assuming a half man such as me has any place at God's table. But I don't even know if you believe in God. But like I said, a discussion for another time. Right now, you're here, I'm here, and you're exhausted. Let me come and put you to bed, dearest."

"You'll stay?" Things were done. All was done. And they could detour long enough for her to give Miles a hug despite the hour, to hang on for all she was worth just for a few seconds before letting Haroun tuck her into bed. "Want you to stay." The things said and left unsaid by him she filed away carefully, in the way one hoarded away the important to take out and review later, at need. There was far more being told there, she knew, than the words hinted at.

"Hey, I moved in, remember? Your monstrosity of a bed is my monstrosity of a bed. Of course I'll stay. Would you like to be carried upstairs, or do you think you can walk it on your own?" he asked her compassionately. "I can carry you - it's no trouble." He hastened to add.

She untangled one arm, just enough to brush the back of her hand against his cheek, staying close otherwise and still unabashedly holding on. "I think I can make it if you're there with me," she murmured, with every single level of meaning that entailed. And then leaned in to brush her lips against the corner of his mouth, her cheek against his once more, leaving the option open. It didn't matter how she got there, so long as he was with her along the way.

Haroun nodded. "All rightie then, O Unfettered One. Up you go!" he said, standing up and helping her to do so at the same time. "Do you want to get something to eat or something to drink before I put you to bed, little girl?" he asked with a grin.

A wobbly, short lived smile answered that, but focusing on now she could do. Barely, but she could. "Miles. Want to see him, let him know I'm okay." It didn't take much for Alison to be leaning against him, once more. "Then bed. I think I'm tired," she added, a bit numbly. They started to walk towards the door, Alison's bare feet no longer touching the cold floor however by the time they walked through it, and if in hiding her face against the hollow of Haroun's throat as he carried her out provided a good way to hide fresh tears, no one else was there to see.