Standard disclaimers apply....feedback is always appreciated.
God bless!
While I attempt to shy away from overly graphic descriptions, this section
may allude to adult themes, so be forewarned.
Many thanks go to Luba Kmetyk, who is graciously allowing me to use a
slice of Dom's history she created in Close Encounters of the Lethal Kind,
an absolutly enthralling Pete Wisdom/Kitty Pryde/lots of other folks
piece. It's archived, so check it out!
Just Lucky, I Guess 6/?
The evening had been an unqualified success. She'd picked the
restaurant, and had been pleasantly surprised when he hadn't even balked
at having to dress up. The food was excellent, service impeccable, and
each had enjoyed the other's company immensely. Conversation and laughter
flowed, but both studiously avoided the single topic foremost in their
minds.
After the server took away their plates, they lapsed into a
comfortable silence. She sipped her coffee, and he stole glances
at her. He shook his head. 'Enough with this. Trying to replace Terry is
what got me into all this trouble in the first place, and I'm tired of
it. Last chance, Jimmy. If this doesn't work, no more- you'll leave her
alone- leave it alone.' He cleared his throat. "I guess you'd like to know
what happened."
Caught unaware, she widened her eyes, but quickly regained her
composure. In a quiet voice she replied "Jimmy- it doesna' matter. All
that counts is that ye're back wi' us now."
"Am I?" he replied, looking directly into her eyes "Am I with
*you* now?"
She took a deep breath. 'This is it, Terry girl...if ye
don' mean it, don' say it...He doesnae need any more hurt in his
life.' She looked again at him, so stoically stone faced, prepared for the
worst- only his eyes betrayed the turmoil she knew he was feeling. The
expression looked oddly familiar, and she cast around in her memory until
she found it. Swallowing, she realized where she'd seen that look so many
times before. He had worn that exact expression of frightened adoration
when he had taken care of her during the worst of her drinking. She closed
her eyes and nodded.
She took his hand and whispered "Aye, I think ye are at that-
that is, if ye want to be."
James sat quietly "Say that again," he whispered. "I don't
think I heard you right."
She smiled a slow, seductive grin, caressing his hand lightly. "Of
course ye did, now come on and let's go. There's better things to be doin'
than sittin' here twiddlin' our thumbs." She winked playfully at him,
and his mouth parted in sudden comprehension.
Swallowing hard, he gulped "Waiter! Check please," almost
tipping the heavy oak table over in his rush to get up.
=======
He debated confronting her that night, but decided against it. She
was difficult enough to deal with when he wasn't exhausted and angry, and
he wanted to be in full command of all his faculties when he finally got
the nerve to bring it up. Besides, he freely admitted to himself, he was
stalling. After a quick shower, he fell into bed, this time to welcoming
covers and warm sleep.
She woke up during the night, face streaming tears. 'What's the
matter with me?' she wondered, angrily brushing away tears. She felt
strange, almost dirty, but was too tired to worry about it. Probably just
a bad dream. 'Knock it off, Dom, go to sleep. As nice as this little
vacation was, there's a session at nine, and you need the sleep.' She
closed her eyes and resumed her slumber, unwittingly continuing the same
dream.
She opened her eyes groggily, blinking against the haze of
pain and tranquilizing drugs. She hung limply from a cold dank
wall, arms and legs pinioned tightly to the mildewed concrete. She
swallowed, and felt the cold metal pressed against her throat. 'Damn,' she
whispered, 'inhibitor collar.' Few knew for a fact that she was indeed a
mutant, but it seemed that these particular goons weren't willing to take
the chance. 'Smart,' she conceded grudgingly. She knew if they hadn't
forced the collar on her, she wouldn't still be here. Here, she thought
with some difficulty, must be a Genoshan prison. Her last
memory before she awakened just a moment ago was of dodging sprays of
Magistrates' bullets, covering the escape of the gene-positive families
she and her team had been hired to protect. Other, darker memories
threatened to break through, but she shook her head- 'I'll deal with that
when I have to. One crisis at a time, Dom,'
She managed to lift her head and take a good look at herself and
her surroundings. She didn't know how long she'd been trapped here in
this filthy holding cell, but the ache in her arms and legs told her that
she'd been hanging here at least a day.
She glanced down at herself. Her body armor had been thoroughly
divested of all its hidden weapons, and as a result had huge rips and
tears, rendering it useless for protection or cover. She had hideous
cuts and bruises all over her body, albino skin showing colors of mottled
purple and green clearly through the holes in her uniform. She noticed
that some of the worst bruises and even some bites were localized around
her breasts and lower abdomen. She gagged, vomiting nothing from a
long-empty stomach. 'Pigs,' she snarled, 'they're all dead- everyone of
them-they just don't know it-' She spat weakly, then lowered her head
again, conserving her strength until she'd need it.
About an hour later, through the fog of pain, she heard the door
open. She growled "Come any closer and I'll kill you."
A thin, dark-haired man she'd never seen before carefully checked
the room, then entered the doorway. Wincing at her appearance, he crossed
the room rapidly. "Come on, now, luv, that's no way to talk to yer
rescuer." His voice was rough but soothing, with a strong British accent.
She tried to place him among her English contacts, but couldn't. He
removed a leather bag from a pocket of the dark trenchcoat he wore,
removing a set of tools from the kit. He began working on her shackles,
taking great care not to hurt her as he skillfully manuvered the tiny
picks.
"Who are you? Did Nathan send you?" Her voice was low and
strained, and the man straightened and looked at her.
"Sorry, don't know who you're talkin' about. My name is Pete
Wisdom, and now shut up and let me get you outta here."
She woke up again, face dry but head aching. 'Damn, it's been
a long time since I've had that one...' She had a vast repetoire of
nightmares from those days, but had been blessedly free of them for
several months. She stretched, body aching with phantom bruises from the
dream, and lay back down. She knew from experience that there'd be no more
sleep that night. Sighing, she got out of bed and grabbed her robe,
heading down to the kitchen to get something to drink.
He sat alone at the kitchen table, sipping the drink he'd
prepared. He'd had a nightmare, very dark and vague, but disturbing enough
to wake him up from an otherwise wonderful and much needed sleep. He had
decided a small drink was in order, and trudged down to the kitchen for a
glass.
She strode blindly into the room, arms stretched in a huge yawn.
He blinked in surprise, then sat his glass down. 'What is, is,' he told
himself 'Deal with it.'
He spoke before she saw him. "Dom." His voice was quiet,
undemanding.
Startled, she tensed. Lowering her arms from the stretch, she
crossed them protectively over her chest. "Nate."
She stood apart from him and waited silently as he sat looking at
her. 'Here it comes. Serious Cable lecture Number Twelve. What were you
thinking calling in like that, yadda yadda yadda,'
He attempted a smile "Join me?" He motioned to the empty chairs
beside him. She sighed and opened a cabinet for a glass "Sure."
She sat down and poured a generous shot of liquor, downing it in
one gulp. As she wordlessly poured another, he said in a low tone "I've
never seen you this quiet."
She looked into the glass and then met his gaze "I guess people
change, eh, Nate?" She picked up the glass and downed it, then stood to
leave.
To Be Con't...
(
geocities.com/soho/studios) (
geocities.com/soho)