Letonia - 7/10

Letonia
7/10

The clock face glowed brightly in the dark.

3:08. Scully lay fulled clothed on the bed, her head tilted towards the red numbers.

*And now...*

3:09

She didn’t know how long she’d been lying there. She’d only taken to counting the seconds at 2:17. Before that, she’d been sleeping. She’d awoke completely refreshed, despite the depth of weariness she had felt earlier, despite the fact that she’d slept for a few scarce hours, at most.

After she’d pronounced the girl (*Rogue *) dead, things had moved quickly, after the initial period of shock. Storm had just stood there for awhile, crying silently. Logan had finally put an uncomfortable arm around her shoulder. The Professor had looked solemn, not saying anything. Scully wondered if he was blaming himself. Marrow had shrugged her spiny shoulders and stalked out of the room. The young blonde man, who she’d learned was named Sam Guthrie, had watched the girl’s body silently, his eyes empty, then bolted outside. The big black man, Bishop, had simply took everything in with the look of one who’d been in this place much too often. Aside from Storm, Remy was the only one who’d shed a tear. A single drop had rolled down his face.

The sunset had been spectacular. Betsy had disappeared while Scully was watching it.

This had to have happened too many times. These people all had a role, knew what they were to do, even if it was simply to get out of the way. Ororo was calling the right people, the Professor making arrangements for a funeral. They didn’t even need to talk about it. Everyone had gone their separate ways, looking as if they had a job. Bobby had sat down beside her for a time, then wordlessly escorted her back to the room that they’d lent her.

He looked absolutely numb, worn out. Without thinking about it, she’d lent forward and given him a light hug. Surprise had broken through his mask of weariness, and after a slight pause, he’d lent forward, resting his cold head on her shoulder for the briefest of seconds, then disentangling himself. Shooting him a slight smile, she’d gone into the room and passed out on the bed.

And now she lay here in the darkness of a moonless night. What was the point in getting up and roaming the still house? With the way things had been going for her lately, she’d get hit with some sort of security system, then have to spend time recovering again. It would be longer before she could get out of here, see Evan. She just had to figure out what she was going to do once she’d left.

An off key hum reached Scully’s ears. It sounded desolate. She looked around for the source. She finally pinpointed it as coming from outside the balcony. It must have been pretty loud for her to be able to hear it through the glass and curtains. Her curiosity piqued, and having nothing better to do, she rose and walked over to the doors leading outside. Drawing back the heavy drapes, she opened the door and stepped out.

The sound actually didn’t seem any louder. Peering through the darkness, she failed to located the source of the humming. She drew her arms close around her. There was a chill in the air, and she was only wearing the sheer shirt, tank top, and pants from earlier in the night.

Had that only been tonight?

She had just turned to go back inside when she heard the yelp. Spinning quickly, she turned around just in time to see a flash, then a dark clothed figure plummet to the ground below. She ran to the edge. Someone large lay spread-eagled in the pools of shadows cast by the house and the trees. Glancing up, she saw that the roof was several stories above her. Who ever it was must have fallen at least four stories.

Blink.

The scene below her seemed to be illuminated in perfect relief. She could see the hollows of Remy’s face as he lay still and silent in the grass.

Spinning on her heel, she ran through the room and out of the Mansion, all worries of security systems forgotten. Urgency pounded in her head. He didn’t have long. When she reached his side, he still wasn’t moving. His breath was shallow and shuddering.

He was lying in a pool of blood.

Scully couldn’t see anything that could've cause that type of injury. The grass was free of twigs, so there shouldn’t have been any puncture wounds. Leaning in closer to him, she smelt alcohol on his breath. Lots of it. Taking a closer look around her, she could see a few shards of glass.

Something clicked. He’d been up on the roof trying to drown the pain, and he’d gotten so drunk that he’d fallen off of it. He probably would’ve walked away from the thing with a concussion and a few broken bones, if he was lucky, but he’d fallen right on the bottle.

Why hadn’t she woken the others when she was still inside? She couldn’t go back in now, leave him alone. Looking at the amount of blood that stained the grass, she thought that even if she had called for the others, even if they did have advanced medical equipment, that it would probably be too late for them. Listening to his breath, Scully thought that she could hear fluid on his lungs. Never the less, she carefully rolled him off of his stomach, being careful of his neck and back.

If he bled to death, then it really wouldn’t matter if he had spinal injuries. Her shirt was mesh, it wouldn’t stop any bleeding. She grabbed the tail of his trench coat and ripped it. Mashing it up into a ball, she pressed the makeshift pad over the worst of the wounds, trying to staunch the flow of blood.

A bright flash of pain shot through Remy, bringing him back from the safe, warm place he’d started to drift to. His eyes flew open. Crouched by his head was an angel.

*No, not an angel.*

His angel was gone.

This woman was too strong for that, too smart, too stubborn.

“It’s ok,” she whispered, trying to calm him. “You’re going to be all right.” The words sounded weak even to her ears, he could tell.

Remy opened his mouth to tell that it really was okay. He felt fine. She pressed a pale finger to his lips, stopping him from speaking. “Shh, save your strength.”

Starlight caught in her silver shirt, covering her in moonshine. Her hair glowed red and gold. Goddess of Night and Day. Letonia. He hadn’t even realized that he had spoken out loud until she pressed her one hand a little more firmly over his mouth, her sky eyes glaring at him reprovingly. Even they were night and day. Hot summer sky irises, midnight cat’s pupils.

Scully sat helplessly as Remy reached towards her. There was too much blood. Those eyes of his, warm beyond what any white eyes could ever convey, searching her. Their gaze filled her with a strange determination.

These people had lost one of theirs all ready today.

She’d be damned if she’d let them loose another.

She loosed her hold on the wad of cloth. Acting totally on instinct, she reached out with her right hand and marked the middle of his forehead with her thumb. She did the same to the hollow of his throat, the spot above the centre of his throat, his hip bones. Placing her hands flat on either side of his stomach, about an inch and a half above his belly button, she reached inside herself, and *pushed*.

It bubbled out of her, silver and gold in her blood. She didn’t move until the flow stopped, leaving her more worn out than she could remember ever being. The world wasn’t bright anymore. It had gone back shadows, the way that it should be on a moonless night. Scully tried to rise then. Her legs wouldn’t cooperate, and she had to catch herself on her arms. Beside her, Remy stirred.

Looking down at himself, he saw his wounds had faded to tiny scrapes, the glass inexplicably gone. There were still holes in his clothes, he hurt like a bugger, and in the morning, he’d have a hang over to remember, but he’d live.

Beside him was a very shaky Dana Scully. Her eyes were back to their normal shape, her skin ashen. He wondered what effect this would have on her.

She was more than any of them had even dreamed, with the possible exception of Logan. She didn’t know that, though. She had reference, no way of knowing.

“You all right dere, Miss Scully?” Gambit asked.

“Just give me a minute.”

There was an almost comfortable silence.

“Remy.”

“Oui, chere?”

“I was thinking. . . Even the people that I’m closest to call me by my last name. There’s not a single person outside of my blood family that I’m on a first name basis with.

“So I was thinking that, if you wanted, you could call me Dana.”

“I’d like dat, Dana.”

When she finally had her breath back, Scully stood up. She offered Remy a hand, which he refused, instead ponderously pushing himself up onto his knees, then crouching, then finally rising.

The two limped slowly back inside.

*

Scully woke up that morning slowly, savouring the feel of warm sunlight on her face and fresh air against her skin. She’d managed to change into pyjamas before falling asleep again, but had left the doors to the balcony open.

She snuggled back under the duvet, and dozed for awhile longer. Sleeping in was a luxury she rarely afforded herself, but her internal clock had always predisposed her to stay out late and sleep even later.

When she could no longer even pretend to rest, she rolled out of the bed and prepared to face the day.

She grimaced at her freshly scrubbed face as she brushed her teeth. Someone had put all of the mirrors back into the suite while she was out shopping. It scared her a little how quickly she was adjusting to this world. She was even almost used to the way that she looked.

And worst of all, the events of the other night weren’t causing her to obsess.

Had she really only woken up here the day before yesterday?

Rinsing her mouth, she headed down for breakfast.

Remy was sitting at the island wearing a pair of dark glasses and drinking a cup of coffee. Scully almost asked what the glasses were for, then remembered how strong the alcohol had been on his breathe. Ororo, dressed completely in black, was at the stove scrambling eggs. “Good morning,” she said quietly. “I was just making myself and Remy breakfast. Would you like an egg too?”

“No thanks, I’ll find myself something.”

Scully was trying to figure out if Remy had told the others what had happened last night. She looked askance at him, and he shook his head quickly. Satisfied, Scully started to hunt for food. She found just what she was looking for in the freezer. Chocolate chip toaster waffles. High in fat and containing nothing the least bit good for her, they were a treat which she rarely allotted herself. Dropping a pair in the toaster, she watched as Ororo shovelled heaps of scrambled eggs onto Remy’s plate. He didn’t look interested in them at the least. Scully watched with some amusement as Ororo stood by Remy’s shoulder and glared at him until he finally gave in and started to eat. Checking her waffles, she found them not quite done. She grabbed a mug out of the cupboard and poured herself a cup of coffee to pass the time.

It was a good thing that she was standing by the sink. Taking a swig of the coffee black, she immediately turned and spit it all out. “You could chew this stuff.”

A low chuckle emanated from behind her. “That’s nothing. You should try the stuff that I make.” Scully turned to find Logan standing by the entrance way.

“I’ve been drinking Bureau coffee for years, but I have yet to find coffee as strong as this.”

“I’d be willing to bet that if you had a cup of wuss coffee, you’d find it just as disgusting.”

“I can hold my coffee.”

“I don’t doubt that you could hold your coffee, but it looks to me like your body decided that caffeine wasn’t good for it. It’s pretty smart. If you don’t like the way something tastes, you won’t drink it.”

Scully looked longingly at the toaster and prayed that if this hairy man was right, it only applied to coffee. She didn’t know if she could live without chocolate.

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