Griplines: Part Three

by BJ Carlson

Part Three: The Harder They Fall

It was a contrast he'd never truly been able to describe to anyone else, but there was something about the smell of sheer hopelessness that made it unlike any other human emotion. The only other person whom he could imagine understanding what he meant by that was Kai: and even then, it wasn't so much because his companion shared his escalated sensitivity to odor as it was because both of them had been the ones emitting the aforementioned odor - probably far more times then either would be comfortable admitting.

Human beings were really rather pungent creatures -all bathing habits and fancy scents that they may or may not have tried to splash on themselves set aside. To him, the average group of overworked populace declared themselves not just in physical appearance, but in a whole array of phermonal reactions that they broadcast - like aromatic beacons - as they trudged through their everyday lives.

<They smell sharp an' bitter when they're angry, and dark with sweat when they're lyin'...> Even joy had a tangy fragrance that was all of it's own. Sure, each person had their own tag scent, but in general terms some things were universal... <Ya learn awful quick that we're pretty much all the same where the nose counts...>

"Neena, what ya doing in there - tryin' ta scrub through your skin?" He was getting a headache from the lingering stench of slightly turned pepperoni pizza. More than a little bored, he'd spent the last half hour or so counting all the stripes on the earth toned wallpaper in the main room, just after shutting off the grinding air conditioner, which - if his nose was accurate - could have used a pint or so more coolant to get it working.

<You're not running me off, though. Ya darn bull-headed woman...> Even if it had been almost two full hours since he'd first watched her retreat into the dingy bathroom. Making good use of the time at first, he'd collected all the trash scattered around the carpet, stopped to make sure the bill was paid up at the front desk and, finally, settled down on one of the beds to tear the outer label from a container of orange juice.

But the shower still didn't shut off - no matter how long or hard he glared at the door. And after a few minutes of bemused growling, restlessness drove him back onto his feet to pace the carpet some more. <Got to do better then this, Girl. Our first meeting *redefined* my definition of patience...> And even if it hadn't, he'd recently moved into the major leagues: having found himself in the frequent company of a woman whom he sometimes suspected could have produced proof of a doctorate on the subject of exasperation.

"Come on now, Darlin'. You're dryin' out the state. There's a water shortage in San Franciso right now, remember?" She didn't grace his words with a reply, though, and so he continued knocking against the wood, <Just like a pit bull, aren't cha...won't let go, even if ya know ya should...>

He pounded more forcefully. "Come on, ya blasted mule - at least have the mettle ta yell back and let me know ya still have some gusto behind ya." He was growing more and more wary at the silence emanating from the other room...not liking the complete and utter lack of response from his old protégé at all.

<In a face to face fight, yeah...> Maybe this silent treatment would have been the response he expected. But then, they weren't in a direct confrontation. <Exspected ya'd do somethin' more...fiery than this.> Even as a teenager, Domino'd never exactly been passive when it came to carrying a grudge. He knew this from personal experience - having been the actual victim of her near explosive bouts of ire numerous times.

<But then that's the *point*, ain't it?> His old partner's temperment didn't fit with her currant behavior. A momentary retreat when her camp got raided may have seemed appropriate, yes - but hiding in the shower for *this* long wasn't kosher. Simply put, when irritated, Domino wouldn't have let herself remain in a purely defensive position like this one. Sooner or later, that twisted sense of logic that she carried around would have demanded that she come out and ignore him more...actively.

<Well, at least ya know the bathroom window's too small for her to crawl through.> Even if she might just be in a perverse enough mood to try and ditch him. Some would claim it was almost obsessively precautionary that he'd checked for that very possibility before he entered her room - but time had made him wary. He'd learned long, long ago that one of Domino's greatest skills was her gift for picking the most odds times to carry the petty to the extreme.

"If ya ain't gonna even answer me, then I'll just have come in there to talk to ya. <At least then there'll be some use for that scowl I'm sure's on your face. Come on, Neena - prove that I'm wrong, here... make a fittingly rude comeback ta the opening I left'cha. Open the door and throw a wet towel in my face

The answering silence was all but grating as his jaw tightened. As Jubilee would have so eloquently put it: "This thing is givin' my goose bumps the eebie-jeebies..." <Well don't say I didn't *try* Darlin'...> He reached out to pop the lock with an extended claw.

It wasn't until the door swung open that he caught the scent of the blood amidst water.

******

Bizarre as it may have sounded, the first real glimpse she'd gotten of their relationship had been snatched while hiding in a bush, sulkingly sucking on her right thumb. <Of course that second part was Logan's fault -I mean it was a good takedown, yeah - but healing factor or not, a broken wrist hurts still hurts like hell...>

She hadn't had a great morning besides that: the fridge had been all but empty when she'd come in after their pre dawn sparring. There weren't even any instant coffee crystals left in the cupboard, just a acerbic note from Scott. The anal retentive leader had fully embraced the duty of reminding her it was her weekend to get groceries, and if the word choice used was any indication, he probably wanted the shopping done by yesterday.

<Well we can guess who ended up on the couch last night...> Their fearless leader had been receiving telling glares from his wife for the past two days. Her guess was that Scott had managed to shoot his mouth off again concerning his son's unexpected visit. She couldn't help a wry smile: a twisted part of her really appreciated Cable's occasional drop-bys, if for no other reason then how they made Cyclops sweat.

Still, she was relatively sure the gun-toting Summers was the reason she'd been left without coffee - a crime of no forgiveness after a night as restless as hers had been. <Well of course that's not countining the cold stuff on the stove...> She'd stared long and hard at that brown mire before reaching for a mug. Of course, with her luck, even that had turned out to be disappointingly decaffeinated.

So she'd slunk into the August-turned forest...planning to indulge in a good old fashioned brooding session over her troubles. <Yeah it's anxsty - but sometimes you've just gotta stick with what works...> To her surprise, though, once outside, the beautiful day had conspired to lighten her spirits...

Until she found out she had interlopers, anyway.

The oddly shaped wooden thicket was tucked in the back west corner of the property - and as far as she could tell, she was the first of the X-Men to find it. <Well maybe that's stretching it a bit...> She doubted there was an inch of these woods Logan didn't at least know of. But still, this particular span of ground was one he apparently left alone - preferring the larger fields behind the main house, and the upper bank on the east side, where he could be easily reached and still fish regularly in the river.

So she'd kind of claimed the spot as her personal haven. <Shoulda put up a sign that said "Kai's Kingdom: and in case you're wondering, no you're not invited."> This was where she retreated during those times that she didn't want any company but her own. And to her knowledge, up till now, no one ever come here but her.

<At least 'till that day, anyway.> She'd known she had guests even before she was within eyesight. If she hadn't heard them in the loud crunching of the leaves underfoot, then she would have picked it up in the smell of joyful sweat. As far as she could tell, there was one heck of a fisticuff going on up ahead -- and if the laughter was any indication, the participants involved were having a blasted good time with the event.

"What's the matter, Dom - you been playing soldier with the kids too long, huh? That last defense was sloppy - woulda gotten you killed back in the days with The Six Pack." The laughter in the man's voice had all but been missed beneath her own eyes' shocked identification. It was Cable: and the man was...openly *smiling.*

So much for her gift of timing. <I *did* have to run across that little exchange without Logan there.> Even when she'd told him about it in all earnestness later, he'd still denied she could have seen such an event. She'd never been able to forget the scene, though...the moment had seemed so vividly essential. The couple she'd spied on had obviously chosen to take a break from their darker world. And in doing so, she'd gotten a one-time chance to watch them *play.*

"Well you're *boring me, Dayspring. Falling into the same habitual round of blocks like you always do when you're distracted. Heck, I've all but got the routine you're using memorized." The mid-range female voice was ringing with laughter as it answered, and the ebony haired woman punctuated the insult with a sharp knee kick to the ribs. "Keep this up, and I'm gonna have to resurrect your old nickname: 'Hamster.'"

<*HAMSTER?!"> To Kai's amazement, Cable didn't seem the least bit insulted at the remark, but simply blocked the maneuver with one hand, while reaching out with the other to tweak her nose in blithe reply. "Well, woman if you want my full attention then *challenge* me, already. And as for the nickname...you use mine, and I'll tell Berto yours..."

<So *this* must be Neena,> Of course, she was probably better known to most as simply 'Domino.' Though Kai hadn't yet met Nathan Dayspring's partner personally, she'd certainly heard quite a bit about her from Logan - most of it in grumbling, faked ego. <The proverbial daughter who falls for the longtime adversary...> It couldn't have been any less annoying to Wolverine if she'd done it just for shock-value. <And from the stories I've heard, I wouldn't even put that much past her.>

The mock fight was continuing: steadily increasing in both merriment an intensity. <Well she's definitely every bit as tough as Logan seems to brag on.> It wasn't surprising of course - considering the temperament of the man who'd trained her. What her Canadian companion hadn't bothered to mention, however, was that this partner of Dayspring's was most undoubtedly a 'looker.'

"Don't ask for what you can't take, Bud...and if you did that I'd *really* hurt you." The crouching mercenary in front of her was still grinning wildly, obviously undaunted by the threat. She threw herself forward again, but this time it was clear she really didn't care all that much where her fists actually landed. <Heaven help us - these two - they're like Logan and I.>

And they had been. <In more ways then I wanted to admit in those days.> At the time, she'd still been trying to convince herself that Logan was just a temporary sparring partner. Those two, however, had obviously been near last rounds in more then one game. She'd never seen another couple who shared her and Wolve's defintion of 'fun'

<Hug 'em or slug em mode.> She'd caught the main difference about this relationship seconds later. Seen the abrupt way they'd separated from the tangle of limbs after Nate ended the match by pinning Domino tightly to the ground. Her eyes had narrowed over their discomfort as they'd dusted themselves off and gone silently back to the mansion.

She and Logan would have found better things to do.

'Close but not *that* close:' the cardinal rule of long time friends who'd have probably made much better lovers. They just kept playing chemistry - mixing hormones and adrenaline at levels that would have made less repressed people break outright and scream. Now several years from that first date, she stood in the doorway of medlab with a wry smile. Watching Nathan Dayspring slowly elevate his blood pressure, and wondering if anyone had ever bother to tell either of these best friends that the problem with chemistry was that in the end, it had a tendancy to explode.

******

His arms went around her - pulling her shaking body back against his chest and burying his face in her hair before she could even completely settle down under the covers again. "You okay?" The words were quiet -heavy with the sadness of knowing her answer before she could even speak it. They'd gone through this scene a million times in the past four and a half months, after all - it was just that up until tonight, it had always been her holding him.

His companion's trembling only increased at the softly spoken question - and the muscles under his hands were clenched so tightly that he couldn't help but think his arms were the only thing keeping her taut form on the bed. He heard a sharp, inhaled breath, and then a coarse, rasping gasp as she tried desperately to cut off the sob before it could break free. He sighed inwardly and buried his face in her hair again.

<Just let it go, *please, Rysha.*> His prayers were answered by the sound of a keening wail, and he closed his own eyes in relief at the flood that broke open. He knew this moment had only been held off this long because his wife had always detested crying in front of *anyone.* But even the strongest had to reach their limit at some point, and tonight it looked like his beloved had slammed into hers - literally face first.

<Well at least she's actually letting herself cry -that's extra credit in this case.> By nature, these little vent sessions could be very messy if not handle correctly. Back when they'd first gotten married -when they'd started having these little 'conversations' - they'd been as apt to use guns as they were to use words.

"That's it - let it go Kar..." His arms reluctantly released her as she rolled over onto her stomach to bury her face into a pillow. He rubbed her back methodically, continuing to utter incoherent nonsense as he did so. It took a bit of prodding on his part, but finally her need for comfort outweighed any sense of self consciousness she'd been harboring - causing her to release the death grip on the bed sheets around her head in favor of being pulled securely up against her Bond-Mate's chest.

"Sh....that's the way, Love." The tears wetting his t-shirt were so hot that they nearly scalded his skin, and her grip on his arms tightened to the point of being almost painful as he brushed his mind with hers in a gentle caress. He locked all sensations of hurt away, however, and concentrated instead on continuing his reassuring broadcast: offering his wife the same stream of calmness and hope that she'd been sending in his direction for the past several months.

**Bad one tonight, huh?** He finally ventured after several minutes of silence. He was still methodically stroking her back with his free hand, so he felt her stiffen in a clearly readable answer. <Oh *that* was real subtle, Danton - undo everything you've accomplished so far.> He berated himself with a grimace - it looked like his nickname couldn't have been any more depressingly accurate this evening, <Keep up with the block-head questions, and you really *won't* have a 'chance.'>

To his surprise, the woman in his arms snorted irreverently and looked up at him. ^^Stop being so hard on yourself...no putting down the man I married, that's *my* job remember?^^ She smiled weakly and their bond surged as her inner shields dropped completely - meshing exhausted minds in a warm enfolding of comfort.

^^I love you, you know.^^ Saying the words never compared to the actual fulness that existed when their bond was laying open. At times, in fact, he wondered if trying to use verbal language was almost a kind of sacrilege to the feeling. But he was a storyteller by nature - and thus constantly compelled to find the right expression. <So until I find better, we'll both have to settle for "I love you too.">

"You know this'll sound funny, but it wasn't even a nightmare." The woman in his arms was finally speaking, albeit softly, against his chest. She tipped her head back to really look at him, now, and he met her gaze with a look of puzzled askance. She sighed, at the expression, "I know - it's so strange...that I finally break over something like that. But this dream - it just felt so blasted good."

^^What was it about?^^ He queried gently, tendriling out to wrap his honest concern with hers in further encouragement. He could sense her hesitance for a moment, as she tried to decide if she could explain it to him adequately, or if she should just show him. "Do you remember a year or so ago? That incident in the park with that idiot kid? This was the day when you and Mayn were shooting archery."

She waited till he nodded, then shrugged her shoulders and gave a weary chuckle. "Well I got a clear memory flash of that kid's last expression after you two finished up with him. Remember he was trying to show her up - he even broke one of her arrows, so she threw her knife instead on her last shot..."

They were both smiling now. "It'll be forever ingrained in my mind, Kar. I'd have felt sorry for the guy if it hadn't been so blasted hilarious to watch." The event in question had taken place in late springtime - close to the end of May, if he recalled correctly. The fellow mentioned had grossly underestimated his opponent: for while eleven year old Mayna Danton may have been only five foot five and a few more months from her first major growth spurt, her temper had already progressed to levels that had impressed even him, and there'd certainly been absolutely nothing wrong with her aim.

"'The idiot deserved it..he actually stepped on my favorite bow...'" Karysha's tears had started again, but this time her eyes were flooding with mirth as she intoned in a fair intimidation of their daughter. "Do you remember what she said, Chance? 'I was nice to the guy, really....'"

"...After all, at least I threw at the *target.*"

By now they were both shaking so hard the whole bed was creaking, and room was filled with gasping inhalations as they fought to get air through the uproar. "I remember how you looked at me - shrugged your shoulders and denied all fault for the incident.""

"Of course I did. I was always the first one you blamed."

That got him a kiss in retribution, before she settled down again his shoulder again, smiling cheekily. "Well may I remind you that *you* were the one who taught her to *use* those knives..."

"Said by the woman who told me when she was two months old and spitting up everywhere that with her aim, we better start stocking smaller blades."

They looked at each other again, dissolving into further hilarity. This wave lasted several minutes, until they both lay - panting hysterically on their backs. When the last snort had sounded, he reached out and took her hand again. "She'll be okay, Kar - we never taught her how *not* to survive..."

And survive was what she'd done...as only Jai'maena could do so. She'd been returned to them a week later in fact - shaken, but every bit as bullheaded. <And just to prove her blasted independence, she'd even found recruits during her jailbreak...> It was what they should have expected, after how many months of dead ends and fruitless searching. <She was just been to darn stubborn to not find her way back.> Even with a broken ankle, she'd returned on her own two feet.

<You were a Networker even then - more then I sometimes am now, even. Nine parts stubbornness and one part nobility.> Mayna might have all but fallen into her mother's arms when she saw her - yes, but in the end it was also her who'd pulled back from the embrace and informed them calmly that she needed to introduce some new colleagues.

And Em had always been the same way... <Holder of the same patented 'don't condescend me' expression.> It usually surfaced right before she hauled off and lectured him about not babying her. His granddaughter had never once catered to the idea that she might be unable to do her job because of her blindness. <Heck, the last Networker who suggested it got absolutely creamed in morning sparring.> He'd learned that much after spending most of his life loving insanity-inducing women.

"Chance, are you *okay?*" The voice was sharp, as was the hard shake to his knotted shoulders. Opening his eyes, he realized that Liz had actually come to kneel in front of him. "Okay, you're back - that's a small improvement." She shook a finger in his face "no spazzing out on me unnecessarily..." The red-haired woman grimaced. "Now come on, and tell me - what's your plan on how to deal with this case? Do we go ourselves or I send someone out?"

<Walking high blood pressure...that's what you girls have always been to me.> He rose from the couch in his living room without a word and walked over to the drawer were he kept all the old family pictures. "Get me everything you have about the rendevue as it was scheduled - and I want it yesterday, Liz. Oh and turn on Dresden's locator - obviously something's keeping Em from checking in herself..but if I know Dresden well enough, he'll fight like crazy before he lefts them take him away from her."

******

It was something his training - not to mention his natural stubbornness - made him loathe to admit, but there were times when he had to admit the whole concept of maturity seemed nothing less then grossly unfair. <I suppose it's the real cost of leadership,> The price they never talked about in training. The rule that said a good commander always has to maintain his composure, <Even if it would have been more reasonable, not to mention more cathartic, if you could just allow yourself a good hissy fit.>

<*Hissy Fit?*> Oath. Where had that come particular term come from? He frowned at the monitor readout and then tightened the bandage on his left hand, almost convulsively. "Terry, get me a thermal blanket. Then go see if Berto and Meltdown need help tracking Dom down." The redhead nodded wordlessly, retrieving the small pouch from the corner cupboard and tossing it to him before all but fleeing through the main medbay doors.

<Note to self: when you find Dom, 'discuss' the concept of timing...> At current, his partner had him reduced to a state of sounding disturbingly like Tabitha. He was going to kill her for that - assuming somebody else hadn't already done that already. <Well that's certainly melodramatic, Dayspring...> The only thing he *was* still sure of was that his partner was alive. At least he was reasonably sure of that, since their link was going all but totally haywire.

<Second note to self: schedule adjacent lecture on telepathic 'manners.'> He disregarded the high probability that she'd reply by shoving his lecture notes down his throat. As a general rule, it was considered extremely rude to freak out on one's psi-link partner without even leaving an forwarding address. Especially when a chance of fate was about to tie him up elsewhere indefinitely.

Wherever Dom had disappeared to last night, she'd done so without her combadge or notice; and while under normal circumstances he could have used their link to literally track her like a bloodhound, that wasn't very comforting when he was stuck here in the infirmery. <And after countless lectures *by* her about being ready for anything...and it's relatives.>

Which brought him neatly to the subject of today's mystery guest.

"Ah can't believe it. Ah just *can't* believe it. Ah mean it's like lookin' in a mirror..." He gritted his teeth at the annoying phrase that had all but become Samuel Guthrie's mantra over the last few minutes, and forcefully reminded himself yet again that there was little sense in wasting the energy to try and kill an immortal - particularly one that had once been his own student.

<She's still in deep psychic shock...and I can't even breach her shields to bring her out.> Of course, no one had been more surprised to realize the later fact then he himself. Sam's intuition had been right: they'd definitely found a new telepath. <But naturally she's unconscious. Can't ever have introductions be easy...>

"For now, we saline IV her, to make sure she stays hydrated after the head trauma." They'd typed for the blood as well, but unsurprisingly her unique biochemistry was going to make it extremely difficult to match. It took them only moments working together to bag her, and then he stripped off the plastic gloves he was wearing - sighing softly at the blood that was seeping through his sterile gauze patch.

"Sir, are yah sure that yah don't need stitches for that?" Sam had noticed the same thing as him, apparently - and had finally dragged his eyes from the bedside long enough to get a good look at his companion's injury. He only shook his head in response. <As if your head's on straight enough to do them anyway...> "It's minor...look why don't you go see when the PACRAT will be arriving with the Professor." Despite his best efforts, he could still hear the annoyance in his tone.

The blond nodded quickly - glancing back toward the table again. Sam continued chewing his lower lip, as if trying to decipher something silently. He then moved toward the door in several brisk strides, only to stop just as abruptly. His shoulders squared, and Summers knew the immortal had finally made his decision.

<Well you sure no the boy isn;t a coward.>

"Cable..Ah gotta ask..." The young man was nervous, but resolute. Cable sighed at the obvious unspoken question on his friend's face, and for the first time allowed himself to really look at the patient on the table. "Guthrie, I'll let you know the details when I have permission to tell them. That's all I can give you for now. So stop hovering."

It wasn't all the young man had hoped for: he could see that in the disappointment on Sam's face just as much as he could sense it. Nonetheless, he kept his face carefully passive as the southerner took the only half-gentle dismissal. <Flonq it all,> He *didn't* know anything... And the worst part was that a part of him couldn't get over the feeling that he *should* have. A sardonic slice of him almost smiled as he reached out for a suture kit and settled himself onto a chair near the console. <Looks like I have 'item three' to discuss with you, Partner...>

He'd done a double take, too - when he first came through the medbay doors. Of course in his case, the shock had come from a slightly different avenue. Terry had found him in the main foyer...one arm already in his coat. A selfish part of him couldn't help but wish that he'd already been out the door.

One more stitch. <Well, that does it.> He grimaced at the jagged rip on his palm. Functional sutures: but not very neat, he was afraid. The damage was actually minimal though - more then anything else the wound ached. <Bit by a furious German Shepard.> Dom would probably have laughed her ass off if she'd been here. If it happened again, though...well the mutt had better hope it'd already been spayed.

The woman on the bed moaned - drawing his attention with the sound. Methodically taping off the wrapping on his hand again, he rose to check her vitals again. <Well at least the pulse is steady...and the breathing is good...> He turned up the heat on the blankets control, then reached out to touch her face tentatively. "Who are you, huh?" <And why do I think that even if you don't wake up, my partner could probably tell me?>

The facial features before him were unmistakable - as was the pale skin. The tight braid of blue-black hair had all but worked itself free. If there had been any doubts in his mind about the similarity, they'd been erased by the dark plum oval now poorly conceal by makeup and blood.

He was looking at Dom 17 years ago.

"Well the mutt's tied up in the kitchen." He started at the sound of an amused voice in the doorway. He tried to work up a dark glare, but found he simply lacked the energy. "I don't think he likes either of us much now, Dayspring. Course as a guide dog I probably wouldn't like us either..."

"You're a real laugh, Kai. Now go find someone with a sense of humor."

Anyone else would have taken the warning instantly. Well, anyone but Dom of course - and she'd buttted in to his life far more gradually. Apparently Kai had the same temerity, though - or the same lack of sense. He saw her ste her feet and sighed reluctantly.

"Any luck finding either of them?" He shifted under her intense look at the question, feeling rather like a specimen being studied from inside its pen. "No luck as of yet." she replied. "I'm not really worried about Logan." She whistled softly. "So *this* is what Guthrie was babbling about. Don't know if this will help much...but it smells like nobody's home."

"She's in psychic shock...and resistant to waking." He spoke the words dully - almost as if forming his own mantra. <Now go away, Kai...I'm trying to throw a fit here, if you haven't noticed.> "You can tell the kids the show's over till the Professor gets here."

He saw her nostrils , and all but groaned as she turned to face him directly. <That's it...she tries to psycho-analyze me, and she gets hung from the ceiling.> A part of him knew he was transferring: that he was really more angry at Wolverine then Kai, <But, Stab his eyes, I don't need a strange woman trying to poke around in my head right now.> And it annoyed the heck out of him that the one time he could have *used* Logan's tracking skills, the man had to disappear just as completely as Dom had.

"On stop growling Dayspring." The mockery in his companion's tone made him grit his teeth as she spoke. "I'm only here because the other team members are all but cowering in the kitchen." She gestured to the woman on the medbed. "So. Two of you with twins twenty years younger. What - did you guys start a club when the rest of us weren't looking? Or maybe this model's just been issued for Nate Grey?"

<Flonq, just shut your *mouth* woman.> He didn't even see the swing as he threw it. Apparently Kai didn't just have Logan's heart, she'd also mastered his aggravating personality. Luckily or not, his hand never struck home - she had his wrist in her grasp nearly a foot from her face. "There you go now, Cable. You hit something. Feel better?"

He cursed aloud then stepped back. <Flonquing impossible women.> He didn't have the time or the temperment for this game. "Kai, I won't say it again. *Go away.* I DON'T KNOW..."

^Well, you moronic Human, *I'd* be glad to explain everything you want. Assuming one of you blasted two-footers would politely *untie* me!^

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