Cyclops was right and he wishes he wasn't (cyclopswasright) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-08-04 13:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, neena thurman (domino), scott summers (cyclops) |
"... I didn't know how you'd feel, since he's not Nate."
Who: Scott and Neena
What: Catatonic dreams, talks of school and heart to hearts
Where: Lucky Shot Guns
When: Friday
Status: Complete
Rating: PG-13 for feels
Despite Pete's best attempts to keep Neena at home and in a bed, resting or 'normalizing' as he liked to call it, she'd dragged herself into work that day. There were leads to track down and guns to smith and, frankly, she wanted the space. She loved the man and everything, but there were some things you just had to work through on your own.
Halfway through the day, exhaustion caught up with her and she found herself tucked into her office and napping on her desk - a usual enough occasion over the past month that no one even complained anymore. Most of the staff knew better than to bother her.
Oddly, where normally her dreams came to her at home, she soon found herself once again in the world with white walls. It was disorienting, being that small again... being in that place again. Disorienting, and more traumatic than usual. Because where normally she responded to the things she'd suffered in that world - tried to understand them, or at least counted things to keep her mind busy - in this dream, there was no responding to anything.
There were literally hours, and hours, and hours of sitting like a stone, staring ahead, without saying a word. Doctors came and went, tests happened - if they were painful or not, she couldn't even tell - repeatedly, and day to day life in that place carried on, but she hadn't. She'd just stopped, like the others had, only instead of 'disappearing', she was somehow still alive. Even loud and angry threats that she'd be gotten rid of if she didn't cooperate weren't enough to move her. There was nothing in her that wanted to live in that world anymore. She had no idea how she'd ever escape it. Maybe she wanted to disappear, like the other children had. There wasn't even anywhere inside her head to retreat to that was better than anything she'd seen in her lifetime. But still, the silence was better than the life she was living.
When the dream faded and she finally awoke, the feelings of that child were impossible to shake off. All she could do was sit there at her desk and stare.
Scott had decided it was time to poll Neena on where she stood. She was an assassin, a mercenary, hardcore and a killer. He neither wanted, nor needed, any of these things. She was also a daughter of sorts. Part of the family. There were things within her skill set that could assist them without resorting to creating a new X-Force. They didn't need a kill team and he prayed they never would.
He made his way into the gun store, looking around as he did. It was his first time in it, and he was impressed by the selection. He made his way to the counter and leaned over it a bit, "Hey, got a few minutes?"
When there was no response, he furrowed his brow, "Neena?" He came around the counter and headed to her office.
The door was unlocked.
Within sat Neena, still staring straight ahead. There was an expression on her face that was hard to discern - like she was lost in some particularly painful memory, which wasn't far from the truth. There were no other indication that anything was amiss, aside from how quiet and still she was.
Unlike other times when she'd dreamed of that place and instantly run away to hide somewhere, this time it was almost like she was simply resolved to stay there.
Scott opened the door, regarding her for a moment. Something most definitely was amiss. He entered, closing the door behind him, "Neena? Answer me."
Was that the Dad Voice? That was the Dad Voice. She'd cut herself off from the world around her completely in that other place, but here in this world, it sifted through the thoughts that were swirling in her head, just slightly.
Enough for her to try a bit harder to respond, in any case. She lifted a finger up of the desk, and held it in the air.
Well, at least it wasn't the FU finger, Scott thought. He leaned against the deck and folded his arms, as if waiting for her to compose herself. Worry etched his features.
The problem was that it was too easy to slip into this state. The more she remembered of that life and the more she remembered of her early life, the easier it was. There were plenty of places in her head she could have escaped to if she wanted.
And the feelings of that other child were very convincing. Too convincing, really. But she had ... Pete, and a baby, and responsibilities. She couldn't let herself just fall into her own head completely.
Worse, Scott was standing there witnessing this. She worked her throat a bit, and ran her hands up into her hair. Finally, after a few tries, she managed to find her words again, "What do you need?"
"That can wait. Are you okay? Don't answer that, you clearly aren't." He still had his arms folded, his face stern but worried, and his voice carried both a command and a request.
"Spill it."
"Well," Dom leaned back in her chair and regarded him, her voice light, "Either you want me to answer you or you don't. Make up your mind."
"What's wrong."
“I had a bad dream. Then you came in here and used your Dad Voice on me, and now I'm wishing you hadn't come to my shop today. Do you want a drink?" She opened a drawer, and pulled out a bottle. Then remembered she couldn't drink any of it, and thinned her lips into a line.
She put it back into her drawer, and whacked it shut, "You can't use that tone of voice on me young man, I'm older than you and frankly you're not the boss of me."
"A bad dream," He repeated. "A bad dream doesn't leave you catatonic." He'd had a few minutes like that the other night, though not as severe. No where near as severe. Domino had been..frightening.
"And regardless of what else, you're still a daughter to me."
The mention made her stare at him for a few seconds, and then look off to the side, "It was a bad dream about being in a catatonic state. One which I was in for a handful of years. Until I manifested, and ran away to begin my life of crime."
She looked at him again, and managed a smile, "It's such an inspirational story, really. I should sell it to some book writer or other and retire."
After a pause she added, "I'm not sure that was ever in the cards for us, you know. We never got back together after he let himself blow up inside Providence. And then Hope was his priority. And then he was dead. Just like everyone else."
"A handful of years." Scott grimaced, then sighed. Really, was long-term happiness ever in the cards, for any of them? It didn't seem to be the case, which was a depressing thought. All the more reason to make it different here. Make it better.
"Wrex is rebuilding the ranch, and we're going to also turn it into a school. A partnership. Space wizards and mutants."
"Three or so, I think. Yes. All part and parcel of being conceived in a test tube and then gestated inside my mother as the world's most hilarious practical joke." Dom quipped. Then the part about the school registered, and she arched a brow.
"Space Wizards and Mutants sounds like some kind of crappy iphone game, Dad." Despite how her and Nathan might not have worked, the family dynamic was still there. She was actually slightly bitter he hadn't asked her to say a few words at the ceremony.
But I guess even I didn't know him as well as Hope did.
Or he'd thought she wouldn't be able to find the words. He'd wanted to spare her. But that was there, not here, "Between an omega level telepath and any number of other people that might manifest, I wanted a place where they could train safely and secretly. Without all the theatrics and heroics that Xavier tainted us with."
"It was more than just Xavier, from where I'm sitting. You don't start out an agenda about coexisting with humans by sequestering a bunch of mutants at a school, painting a giant target on it, and then training them to be soldiers."
Dom sighed, "And no matter what, there's going to be people out there who hate us. Just like the republicans still hate me just because I have a uterus, still dislike Black people just because they have the audacity to have browner skin, and dislike gay people just because of some messy shit in the bible that doesn't even mean what people think. We're still going to be hunted. We're still going to reach a place where we're going and going and going with no time to stop or decompress."
"I want measures in place to ensure that won't happen, or at least we'll have ways out. Because the train is already out of control. The box has been opened and there's no putting these powers back. I'd rather have a place, than have someone explode in the middle of a city street because they didn't know they could control it."
"Scott, it's going to start out as 'I'd rather have a place', and then it's going to become, 'how can we have these powers and not help people', and then it's going to become, 'the muties saved the day but there's 38 million dollars in property damage', and then they're going to know where to find us. You might as well put up a big sign when you build the thing that says 'bomb here' and 'park your Sentinels here.' "
She shook her head, "I believed in the dream, I did. And for Nate, and then later for You - for the family we built, the only one I've ever had, I fought. You sent us off to the future, you sent us on missions to secure our survival, and I did all that willingly. All the X-force stuff was proactive too, even if we didn't kill people. I was old, and I'm still old, and I accepted those risks. But those kids grew up way too fast, Scott. Way too damn fast. Look at Kitty. She's already out there. I want to strangle her."
"You and me both," He admitted sadly. "She won't be the only one. There's no winning here, Neena. Maybe I'm trying to have my cake and eat it too."
His laugh was devoid of humor, "There's enough different here. Tony Stark is less of an ass, for one."
"Tony Stark wasn't the one letting them pen the last of us up in a camp on their back lawn," Dom snerked. God she really wanted that drink. Would it hurt the baby if she gargled it and spat it out? She looked down at her drawer again, like she was pondering that.
“Not my brightest moment,” He replied. But he’d thought it would give them time to regroup. In the end, they had been able to, but they were pretty much a target no matter where they went.
Dom ran a hand up into her hair again and let out a long sigh, “You know who I am, you know what I do. What kind of help do you think I can be, here? Do you need money? I can probably at least provide you with some of that, but … I’m not sure what else you want, since I know you didn’t come here to tell me to re-start X-force.”
She pulled that bottle out of the drawer again along with a glass, and poured him one, then slid it across the desk, “And for god’s sake, Dad. Lighten up. You should see your face right now. If you don’t want to become that guy you should start by not being that guy to begin with.”
"The last thing we need is X-Force again. If it comes down to that we've already lost." Scott shook his head, but picked up the drink anyway, "I want you involved, somehow. I think that's just the beginning and end of it."
There was a long moment of silence after he spoke, most of which Dom spent running her finger along the incision at the back of her neck. It was thrumming more than usual, but she had no idea if that meant anything at all.
She wanted to be a part of it, even if she didn't. She felt like she was supposed to. She was one of the family. Pete wouldn't agree, she was pretty certain of that. He was never a fan of what the X-men did. He'd been more about fine-tuning X-force and leading them on covert ops. Those sorts of things turned the world on its ear without leaving a fire on every street corner.
She wondered if the fires had already started, and guessed that Scott wouldn't be sitting in her office unless they had. But what could she offer, in this state? Yesterday she'd been staring down the barrel of her own gun.
"I need to think about it," she whispered, finally.
"Don't do it because you think you're supposed to," Scott said, after a moment's contemplation. "Or even if you think it's the right thing to do. It would be a disservice to yourself."
He put his hand on her shoulder. Then he pulled her into a hug.
She'd been about to push his hand off of her shoulder when the hug came. The emotions it caused threatened to shatter the guard she normally tried to carry herself with, and Dom found herself torn between trying to fight him or just breaking down into tears.
He'd already seen her in a catatonic state today. That was honestly enough weakness on her part. So she erred on the side of fighting him, her voice a dangerous rumble, "Let me go, Scott."
Scott waited a moment, then let go of her. As if to say he wasn't afraid of her dangerous voice.
"Just think about it. I won't hold it against you if you don't want it."
She turned away from him, busying herself with screwing the cap back on the bottle of alcohol as an excuse not to look at him, "I want to help, but ... there's a lot going on. For me, right now. I'm not sure what help I'd be. I'm not sure I wouldn't bring danger right to your doorstep. And I'm not sure what a woman like me has to teach anyone."
“I think you have a lot to teach, and I hope you realize it.”
“Are you going to tell me what that might BE, or are you just going to stand there staring at me?” Dom snarked, and folded her arms.
Scott smirked a bit, “You can offer a what not to do. You can also offer how to blend in.”
Dom thought back to the dream she'd had the day after that chip in her head had said hello to her and given her painfully violent welcome home hugs. It was true, she did know how to blend in. It had taken that Prime Sentinel years to track down 5 or 6 puzzle pieces of her past.
"Maybe. But... you're going to have people who don't want to become that again. And you're going to have people who were heroes there who become villains here, just because they can. Or even villains trying to be heroes. It's going to be like navigating a minefield. ... Though I guess I don't need to tell you to be prepared for that. You're you, even when you aren't."
She ran her finger along the back of her neck again, then shrugged, "I'm neck deep in trouble right now, so I have a bit to think about it before I get back to you. I need to get clear of that, first. And there's some ... I might be getting married. Maybe you could come have cake. I'll definitely want to talk it over with my other half first."
"It's a minefield," Scott agreed. "With no real way to tell friend from foe until contact is made. It means being extra cautious, but also more welcoming. It's not like Emma and Magnus didn't change their stripes."
Magneto, who'd bowed to him. That had still been something he had trouble really dealing with. But he'd understood the gesture.
"I'm flying blind." he tapped his glasses, "But I always have. Clear up your mess, but I've got your back if you need it. I'd like to be there, somehow, too."
Dom snerked, "You're flying blind and I've was a naive young girl once. I call bullshit."
Then she blinked at him and tilted her head to the side, "I was going to ask but then ..." she trailed off and looked off to the side again, because tears were threatening to prick at her eyes, "... I didn't know how you'd feel, since he's not Nate."
"I loved Nate. And I loved you two together. But I care about you for who you are." Scott's glasses glinted in the overhead lightning. He wanted to put his arms around her again, but refrained. He realized it was important for him to see this, somehow, on a level he couldn’t really explain.
“You don’t even know who I am,” she replied, and squeezed her eyes shut, “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
Dom sunk back into her chair and rested her head in her hands, “Every day I look in the mirror and wait for that fucking spot to show up. For a while I was seeing it, even though it wasn’t there.”
"I think you're with the rest of us on this," Scott replied, trying to be reassuring. She was certainly very pale, anyway, "The bleed over, between there and here. The similarities and differences." He wasn't even joking when he added, "I'm going to see about having shrinks on staff."
"Well that's a step in a direction Xavier never walked in," Dom mumbled, from behind her hands. She'd thought the paleness was due to being so sick for awhile there, but when it'd stuck after the chip, she knew for a fact it was her mutation kicking in.
She'd wanted to smash the mirror into pieces that morning.
"I can imagine how much better certain things could have gone," Scott admitted. "When we rebuilt the school, we made a concerted effort to try to help the students out. Give them more down time. That was Emma's influence I think. And Dani and Xi'an's."
“Dani always was a good kid,” Dom nodded, then added, “You’re going to need those shrinks, I think.”
"With these memories and powers all coming in? I think so too. We lucked out with Alma. She had some good influences. Otherwise that could have been catastrophic."
He looked at Dom worriedly, and touched her arm, "You sure you'll be okay?"
She looked up at him, actually allowing herself to show the fear in her eyes, "I don't know. You'd think that a pending wedding and being pregnant would stop you from looking into the barrel of your own pistol, but it hasn't."
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She looked a little shocked afterwards, and then looked away from him. That was great. Really. Way to go, Dom, you're an elite badass who blurts the wrong shit out to the one guy who'd be even more of a pain in the ass about it than Pete would be.
As a little mushroom cloud rose in the room, Scott struggled to come up with some sort of reaction beyond 'wow'.
Finally, after a moment, he said by way of trying to empathize, "I understand the gun to the head part, but pregnant?"
"Oh, so the gun to the head part isn't the part that concerns you?" Dom quipped, and leaned back in her chair. She hugged herself, "It was kind of an accident. We're not sure it'll ... take. I've been seriously ill. And now there's a chip in my head. And with that, I believe we're about halfway up to speed with my life."
Scott hoped for her sake she didn't lose it, "It usually is an accident. Or you end up with a half-dozen alternate reality kids somehow, because you have a forked and twisted family tree."
He’d never seen her as the type to give up, before. Then again, he hadn’t seen himself that way.
In Dom’s book, it wasn’t giving up until someone actually pulled the trigger. Which, obviously and thankfully, she had not done yet. And since he was standing there, neither had he.
“Which, if you’re the X-men, you welcome with open arms. Then your adopted son brings home some extremely militant and deadly spot-eye chick, and your wife welcomes her to the family instantly, too.”
Dom smiled a bit, though it never reached her eyes, “I’m sure I’ll get it all sorted out. It’s mostly the chip part. I can’t even toss paper balls at the trash can right now and get them in. But hey, you don’t worry about me, and I’ll try not to worry about why it is you empathize with me holding a gun to my own head. Deal?”
"Have you talked to Moira?" Scott entered all business and problem solving mode. He would assume she had, "Or Stark?"
“Moira can’t remove it without killing me. I haven’t talked to Stark yet, no.” Dom shook her head, “Though I do have to talk to him about something else already, so I might bring it up while I’m there.”
"Think about it. The man might be an ass but he's still a genius with this sort of thing." He clasped her shoulder, "I'll try not to worry. Key word, try."
That wouldn't stop him from worrying, and they both probably knew it. But she was family, in a way that a lot of other people weren't.
Scott wanted to look out for family. He'd felt he'd failed in that regard, much too often.
"Well I'll try not to worry, too. We'll see how we do with that."
Dom let out a long sigh and pulled out her little Starkphone, then started tapping around on it, "Building a school is going to take resources. That, I can give you, today."
“Neena, Wrex has plenty of money,” Scott protested!
“Well now he can have some of mine, too.” She was already in the process of setting up a charitable and sizeable donation.
Scott knew better than to argue this, “All right. Just don’t put yourself out of house and home.”
“Please. You think I work this job because I need the money?” Dom snerked, and shook her head at him, “Nathan helped us all set up diversified financial profiles with our paychecks. If I wanted to I could retire very comfortably tomorrow. It’s better to put the money to good use. Name a wing after me or something.”
That last part was a joke. No one would ever take the ‘Thurman’ wing seriously.
But maybe the Domino arts center.
When she was done getting the transfer settled, she looked up at him again, “... I don’t need to tell you that the state you found me in and just about everything we talked about in here is a well guarded and sacred state secret, right?”
Scott smiled at her fondly, “Boy Scout’s honor.”