Just A Stretch Of Mortal Time

by Alicia McKenzie

The door slid aside and Logan strode into the Danger Room's control booth, his mind already moving ahead to the simulation he was about to run. He'd taken to using this particular program only in the dead of night, to avoid the lectures. He'd had enough of Chuck's psychobabble lately to last him a lifetime.

All he wanted to do was to turn some Magneto drones into scrap metal. Vent a little. Pretend it was flesh, shredding beneath his claws. What was so flamin' unhealthy about that? Not like he was stupid enough to take off for Genosha to take on the real thing by himself. No--he knew better than that. His lips drew back over his teeth in a bleak, sardonic, not-quite smile.

Harder for a man to forget his limits when he faced them in the dead of the night.

Sitting down at the console, he realized with a start that the Danger Room was in use. At four in the morning? Grumbling to himself, wondering in annoyance who was fighting insomnia tonight, he called up the details on the program that was running. A snarl of pure outrage burst from him as he skimmed the information displayed on the screen.

Someone was running HIS program.

His Genosha program.

Someone had circumvented the password he'd gotten Kitty to put on it--which had to have been a feat in and of itself--and was poking around where they didn't belong, invading his privacy. Running his personal program--

At the original, lethal difficulty level.

With all the safeties off.

A cold thrill of fear wormed its way through the anger, and Logan leaned forward, entering the command to raise the blast shield. He'd designed that program himself, he KNEW every possible twist and turn it could take--sure, HE ran it with the safeties off, but dammit, he had a healing factor! Whoever was in there was either too stupid to know what they were doing or trying to commit suicide via Danger Room--

On the floor of the Danger Room, fighting his way through a swarm of Acolytes, was Cable. Psimitar whirling and flashing, he was obviously putting everything he had into it, fighting with a wild, almost frenzied abandon Logan had never seen from him before. Each telekinetic shadow-blow lashing outward from his psimitar, reflecting its movements, was a killing blow--or would have been, if he hadn't been fighting drones. Utterly gone was that glacial, almost inhuman composure that usually characterized his fighting style.

He was beyond that, now. Way beyond that. Logan watched, his anger over this invasion of his privacy fading into the back of his mind, inconsequential in the face of what he was seeing.

This revelation.

The man he was watching right now wasn't the man who, reeling from the shock of Domino's death at Magneto's hands and the agony of their broken psi-link, had tried to kill himself no less than four times in the last three weeks. The first time in the Danger Room, Logan remembered dimly.

This wasn't that man. This was someone else, a different Cable. And not a Cable who had pulled himself up out of that black pit of despair that Logan and everyone else in the mansion had watched him sink farther and farther into by the day. No. This wasn't any kind of improvement. All he saw, plain as day in the way his old friend/enemy/rival moved, in the savagery with which he dismembered the Acolyte combat drones, was rage. Rage and a profound loss of balance that was somehow even more disturbing in someone like Cable--someone whose whole life had been shaped by an iron-willed self-control.

Logan didn't LIKE what he saw. As the last Acolyte fell, and Cable, swaying, favoring one leg and bleeding from half a dozen minor cuts, turned to face their 'master', Logan's instincts gave him a determined shove towards the only sensible course of action.

"Computer," he growled. "Halt program."

The Magneto-drone froze in midair. Cable, who'd already begun to lunge, bringing his psimitar up in a wide, sweeping arc, arrested the attack in mid-motion and whirled awkwardly towards the control booth.

Their eyes met. Even at this distance, Logan stiffened, breaking into a cold sweat as he fought the flight-instinct that seized him at the touch of that blazing, hate-filled gaze.

Then, a fist of incandescent golden psi-energy smashed through the glass, seized him in a crushing grip and flung him to the Danger Room floor.

#HOW DARE YOU??!!#

Struggling to his feet, he nearly crumpled again at the force of the telepathic roar. He spat blood--he'd struck the floor face-first, and blinked blearily at the tall figure, surrounded by a nimbus of golden fire, who stood there glaring at him, as if debating which wall to bounce him off next.

"G'morning to you too, Nate," he slurred, working his jaw carefully. He forced his aching body to straighten, ignoring the sensation of his healing factor at work. Inside, part of him was cursing steadily, appalled by this sudden and violent demonstration of power on a level he'd never seen Cable display in all the years they'd known each other. He'd walked in on a conversation between Xavier and Jean a few days before, where Jean had cut herself off in the middle of saying something about 'Nathan's increased power levels', but he hadn't pushed. Hadn't been his business. He didn't want to make ANY of this mess his business--hit a little too close to home. "Enjoying my program?"

Cable blinked, the light around him dimming slightly, as if in reaction. "Your program--" Then it blazed again, brighter, hotter than before, and Logan found himself airborne again, headed for the ceiling.

Wrong thing to say, I guess. I should've stayed in bed-- The impact was a little gentler this time, but he was held there, pinned absolutely immobile, the telekinetic grip almost crushing. "Nate--" he wheezed as loudly as he could. "What--say you put me down, bub?"

#WHY SHOULD I???#

"Your--sterling--sense of fair--play?"

A moment of silence. Then, Logan was lowered, not ungently, towards the floor. He had just started to relax, thinking that Cable had settled down and decided to be reasonable when, ten feet up, the telekinetic support vanished and he fell the rest of the way, landing on his rear.

"That," he growled at Cable, "was just flamin' spiteful, bub. I ought to have your liver for an early breakfast."

Cable didn't respond to the half-threat. "Your program," he almost hissed. The light around him had died, but his eye was still blazing. "Yours."

"Yeah? So?" Logan growled, hating the faint sense of defensiveness Cable's accusatory tone was stirring in him. What the hell was the problem, anyway? You'd think I'd insulted his mother or something, the way he's acting. "What do you want me to say, Nate? You think you're the only one who wants Maggie's head on a pike?"

Cable's gaze wavered for a moment, flicked to the Magneto drone, still hovering in midair, motionless. "I don't want his head on a pike." His voice was suddenly hesitant, unsure. "I want--I want--" Then the mask cracked, his features twisting into a horrific mixture of anguish and hatred as a cry, half of despair, half of fury, burst from him.

And that same telekinetic fist manifested once more, slamming the Magneto drone into the wall. Over and over and over again, a pounding, inexorable rhythm punctuated by savage curses from Cable in that strange, musical language of his. Over and over and over again, Cable staring fixedly at it, teeth bared, eye blazing, until what had been a combat drone was less than scrap metal. Almost pulverized.

Logan's skin was busy trying to crawl off his body entirely. He watched in frozen shock, saying nothing as Cable finally let the wreckage drop to the floor, spitting a few last, unintelligible profanities. There was a significant dent in the wall of the Danger Room, a distant part of his mind noted absently.

Cable turned back to him. He looked more in control of himself, his expression cold and composed, but his eyes--good lord, his eyes. Logan felt an involuntary growl start deep in his chest. He felt like he was trying to stare down a rabid wolf.

"I--don't want him dead," Cable almost whispered. "Not yet."

Logan stared at him for a moment, his mind whirling in an incoherent jumble. What came out was a surprise, even to him. "You could, you know," he said in a strained voice. The admission was almost physically painful. For a minute, selfishly, he hated the man standing in front of him. Hated him for having the ability to do what he himself wished he could--but knew he wouldn't. Couldn't. "One-on-one--you could. I wouldn't have said it before--"

A hard, humorless smile. "But now," Cable said almost mockingly. "What, you think I haven't NOTICED Xavier and Jean whispering? Am I supposed to be so--" He blinked suddenly, stiffening, and Logan smelled pain. "Am I--" The muscles along his jaw rippled, his face paling. An arm crept across his midsection, as if he was fighting the urge to double over. "You think I'm so wrapped up in--grieving that I haven't noticed what's happening to my powers?"

Logan shook his head slowly. Trying to change the subject-- The pain he was seeing bothered him. He'd asked Jean about it, trying to be diffident. She'd told him how the psychic damage would flare up, getting worse every time Cable thought about Domino, as his mind unconsciously tried to reach out to the other end of the link--the end that wasn't there anymore.

It's like pushing your hand into a bag of razors over and over again, she'd said bleakly, and not being able to stop. That's what it's doing to his mind.

"This ain't grieving, Nate," he said bleakly, wincing again even at the thought of that metaphor, "and you know it."

"What, YOU'RE going to give me advice now?" Cable snarled, the flush of anger replacing his previous pallor. "Based on what? How well you handled Silver Fox and Mariko's deaths?"

Logan froze. "You're getting out of line," he warned softly. Here and now, he was willing to cut this man a considerable amount of slack--which was the only reason why he hadn't done SOMETHING to retaliate for being treated like a ping-pong ball--but there were some lines that weren't to be crossed.

"Lines," Cable said bitterly, wiping sweat from his forehead. It was almost a relief to see that, to know that display had taken at least a little out of him. "Boundaries. Rules. I wasn't much for them before, Logan, but now--take a wild guess as to how much they mean to me now."

"Nate--"

"Shut up! Don't even say it!" Cable was pacing, rapidly, angrily. "I've had enough sympathy, I've had enough flonqing ADVICE--"

"Wait a second--"

"All of you, all you ever do is whisper and look at me cross-eyed to see what I'm going to to do next. I'm sick of it! I'm sick of being watched, I'm sick of people moralizing at me about how I'll get through this and move on--" Cable's gaze fixed on him, pierced him to the core. "And you! This 'buck up and be a man, don't take the coward's way out' crap!"

"Would you shut the fuck up for a minute?" Logan snapped. Cable hesitated in mid-pace and glared at him. Logan continued quickly, before Cable could decide that he'd look better as a smear on the ceiling. "First of all, I don't give a shit how you deal with this, Summers, as long as you do. You may not think your life's worth much of anything at the moment, but there are a few people around here who think otherwise. People I'm not going to let you hurt because you'd rather curl in up a corner and die--or go out in a blaze of glory fighting Apocalypse or everyone's favorite bucket-head."

"What's so wrong with the second option?" Cable asked suddenly, a flicker of feral humor in the question. "At least if it's Apocalypse. Isn't that what God--pardon me, Sinister put me here to do?"

Logan didn't like the sensation of someone else having fun at his expense. Especially when he was trying to pound some sense into that someone's overly thick skull. "Glad to see your sense of humor's in working order," he growled. "Such as it is."

"It wasn't a joke, Logan. Why deny it? I was created for a purpose. Maybe this--maybe I should take a message from this." Cable's gaze wandered to the wreckage of the Magneto-drone, and his breathing grew a little ragged. "All of this--I--I want to blame him, Logan--"

"Why wouldn't you?" Logan asked bluntly, not entirely surprised by the sudden switch to self-loathing. "He killed her. Ain't no two ways about that."

"And she never would have been there, if it hadn't been for me. I can't--my hands aren't clean in this--"

"Snap out of it," Logan said with deliberate harshness. Cable stiffened, his expression hardening again. Logan took a step towards him. Only one step, not anywhere enough to crowd his personal space but enough to make him pay attention. "You really going to go on like this? Bouncing back and forth between deranged and suicidal?"

"Why not?" Cable snapped. "Works for you--on a smaller scale."

Logan shook his head slowly, in growing frustration. "You think you're the only one who's lost someone?" he growled. "That the world's gotta stop, just because you feel like your heart's ripping itself into little pieces?"

"Shut up--" Cable muttered, turning away. But Logan pursued him, not willing to back off quite yet. He had never and probably never would call Nathan Summers a friend--there was too much between them, too much old anger and fresher blood--but he wasn't ready to sit back and watch him slide headlong into self-destruction, either.

"You don't think you've got anything left to live for? What about your family? Or those kids you've been playing surrogate father for? You think they deserve to lose both their 'parents' because of one damned accident?"

"Accident?" Cable nearly shouted, whirling on him. He was trembling violently from head to toe, as if trying to hold in some sort of explosion. "ACCIDENT?"

"You heard me right. Did you take X-Force to Genosha, expecting to get Domino killed? Did Magneto mean to kill her?" He'd heard chapter and verse on it from the kids, every little detail of what had happened. "You took a chance, and things went bad. You've been living this life for long enough to know--"

"If," Cable suddenly interrupted him, his face as pale as a ghost's and his eyes terrible, "you say 'these things happen', I will kill you where you stand."

Logan stopped. Gave Cable a measuring look. There wasn't the slightest doubt in his mind that he was perfectly serious. "To know that you can't control everything," he said, more quietly. "You ain't a god, Nate, just because you've seen the future. You're just as much at the mercy of whatever decides these things as the rest of us are."

"I don't believe in fate." Clipped, cold words, the savagery seething just below the surface. "We make the future, Logan. Our thoughts shape the universe--"

"More Askani bullshit--"

"The truth." Those lost, burning eyes bored into him. "And if things don't fall out the way you want them to, it's on your shoulders. You were the one who wasn't fast enough, or strong enough--and then all you can do is pick up the pieces."

"If you really believe that, it's no flamin' wonder you're so screwed in the head right now," Logan growled in disgust.

"Not so--screwed," Cable said, a bitter smile twisting his mouth. "I know what I have to do--what's left for me to do before I can--" He swallowed, then lifted his psimitar to his shoulder. "Room's all yours," he said coldly. The conversation was clearly over. "Keep something in mind, though, Logan?"

"And what would that be?"

"It may take me a while to get there--I have a few other things to take care of beforehand--but Magneto is mine," Cable said simply. "And anyone who beats me to the punch is going to wish they'd never been born." He leaned towards Logan, that left eye still blazing, and gave him that unnerving smile again. "Clear enough for you?"

"Not having all that much trouble blaming him after all then, are you?" Logan asked levelly.

The shot hit home. Cable blinked. "I guess not," he said, his voice suddenly weary. "Maybe--maybe it's the only safe thing to feel. I have too much to do--to give in to the other side of it."

Logan felt almost depressed. "You didn't hear a damned word I said, did you?" he growled in resignation. "What, have I been standing here talkin' to the air?" It struck him that maybe it had all been futile, right from the get-go. Maybe Nate wasn't ready to listen, let alone come out of this.

Cable straightened. "Pretty much," he said in a neutral voice, turned on his heel, and headed for the door. Almost there, he paused--and the remains of the Magneto-drone suddenly jumped, spitting sparks.

Cable's back was still to him, but Logan somehow knew there was a smile on his face, the type of smile that would make a man's blood run cold.

"Not just safe," Cable murmured quietly, so quietly that Logan's enhanced hearing had trouble picking it up. "Easier, too. So much easier."

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