Scheherazade: Part Three

by Alicia McKenzie

When Domino got back up to the bedroom, she found a bleary-eyed Kitty sprawled in the chair by the window, and no Ilsa anywhere. "You get drafted?" she asked from the doorway, studying the younger woman measuringly. The dark circles beneath Kitty's eyes were all too noticeable, even in the dimness.

Kitty yawned and nodded. "Ilsa had to run," she said. "Couple of the newcomers ate some spoiled food--stuff they'd brought in with them, I guess."

Typical. "Well, people will be idiots," Domino murmured, going over to the bed and sitting down beside Nathan, careful not to jar him. The atmosphere in the room didn't seem nearly as crushing. She supposed the fresh air, such as it was, had done her good.

Kitty's mouth quirked upwards. "Always so blunt," she murmured.

"Tact is for lesser beings," Domino said, keeping her voice just as low, and managed a smirk. "Anyhow, go back to bed."

"You sure?"

"No, I'm lying through my teeth. Shoo."

Kitty shook her head, and got up wearily. "Glad to see you're cutting back on the profanity, Dom," she said, and slipped out of the room before Domino could summon up an appropriate retort.

Domino sighed and stretched out beside Nathan, on top of the covers. "To think she's the one who's always getting on my case about not swearing around the kids," she muttered, taking Nate's hand in hers. It was startlingly cold. "She can be so perverse at times."

Maybe not perverse. Mercurial, probably, would be the better word. Then again, weren't they all? Theirs wasn't a world of happy mediums. You bounced constantly between joy and tragedy, peaceful calm and impending catastrophe.

Domino stared down at Nate, trying to ignore the part of her that insisted on fretting about how pale he was. Extremes, she thought distantly. He was a creature of extremes, even more than the rest of them. Most of the time, he blazed with whatever was animating him at that given moment--anger, determination, good old-fashioned lust.

But there were times he seemed so lost. So fragile. Like tonight, in the bar.

She didn't like those moments. Domino sighed and leaned back against the pillows, not letting go of Nate's hand. The contact was comforting. "Should've dragged you in here in the first place," she muttered, trying to figure out why she felt so guilty about this. She'd told him to stay out of it.

So why had he gotten into it? She'd been doing fine. He was just a born meddler, that's all it was. "Asshole," she muttered darkly, squeezing his hand. Wishing, vaguely, that he'd wake up and growl at her, or at least glare. Just to let her know that he was okay.

The link was too quiet.

She wasn't used to not having his thoughts in her mind. It reminded her too much of before.

***

Before. Or maybe it would be more accurate to call it 'between'. The world she'd found herself in after the crash hadn't stayed stable for long--too close to the accident, she supposed. It had hardly mattered, really. She'd been too shell-shocked, too far gone into simple survival mode, to learn anything about her new world that would have made her care about its fate.

That world had fallen, torn apart by the shifts in the space of two months, and she'd wandered into the chaos, nothing driving her except the determination to stay alive. For a while, the shifts had been a way to keep her mind off her loneliness. She didn't feel the lack of her friends or the empty place at her side nearly as keenly when she was focused on adapting to whatever this broken world was going to hurl at her next.

Her mind would go strange places as she wandered. She often thought about her life and how much different it could have been. That night when she'd been eight, when Creed had broken into their house--what would have happened if her father hadn't gotten home in time to put a bullet through the bastard's brain? What would have changed? Would she even be alive? Her mind would work through all the permutations of all the close calls she'd had in her life, remove random elements, until she worked out outcomes that could have led to a wildly different Domino.

After all, she had to do something to explain why some of the other versions of herself she met were so different. And probability had always been her personal playground.

Eventually, though, she started to realize that she was merrily heading down the road to a very particular sort of madness, trapping herself in a perpetual loop of 'what might have been'. Her powers weren't meant to be directed inwards. So she turned them outwards, focused that vague awareness of what was and what might be at the shifts themselves.

And so she slowly, painfully, learned to navigate the shifts. It didn't always work. Sometimes, in fact, her hazy sense of when to jump a shiftline and when to turn around and run the other way betrayed her. But that made sense, after all. It was all about chance.

Her luck, in a general sense, was good. It kept her alive, if not always unscathed. She got to the point where she almost felt a little at home in the shifts--at least, to the extent of forgetting precisely long it had been since all of it had started.

Somewhere around that time, she'd found him. Or he'd found her. Whichever.

***

Her instincts were telling her that the shift wasn't just relatively safe, but might even be somewhat hospitable. Usually, that strong an impression on her part didn't turn out to be wrong. Then again, Domino reflected with a flicker of bleak amusement, there was always a first time.

Still. Couldn't hurt to take a look. Breathing deeply, she stepped through the shift wall. Only the ease of long practice let her ignore the not-quite-painful sensation of being simultaneously squeezed and stretched until she thought the molecules of her body were going to fly apart.

Nastier shift wall than usual, she thought a bit hazily as she stumbled out the other side, into the rainforest. The humidity of the air, so different from the cool, dry shift she'd just left, struck her immediately, and she was already beginning to sweat. Wiping her forehead, she sighed deeply, looking up towards the canopy, high above her.

Well, this wasn't so bad. She might even be able to find something more to eat--bugs, if nothing else. She'd been too long in the shifts to turn down any source of protein, and she didn't have much left of what she'd salvaged from the ruins of that supermarket she'd found ten shifts back. Hitching her pack up higher on her shoulder, Domino smiled whimsically, and stretched out a hand, pointing in each direction as she turned.

"Eeny, meany, miney--"

#Mo,# a voice said in her mind, and Domino yelped, nearly jumping out of her skin. Her knife was in her hand before the thought that it would be a good idea to draw it had quite formed in her mind.

"Where are you?" she growled, turning around more slowly this time. The canopy was so thick that little sunlight got down to ground level, so there were plenty of shadows. Not that a telepath would need the shadows, not if they were dead-set on hiding--

"I'm not hiding. I was just trying to decide how to introduce myself," the tall, silver-haired man said as he stepped out from behind a tree about ten feet in front of her.

Domino's hand spasmed on the knife, but she managed not to drop it. "Shit," she muttered, staring hard at him. "Hey, Nate," she finally managed, a little weakly.

"Dom," he said very quietly, not moving towards her. "What are the odds, eh?"

She gave a tense laugh. "Better than you might think."

It wasn't her Nate, of course. She'd gotten over that particular knee-jerk reaction the first time she'd run into a Cable who had no idea who the hell she was. There'd been a few of those. Meeting them had been a bit disturbing, but not too bad.

Some of her experiences with Cables who'd known her had been far, far worse.

This one looked--relatively calm, at least. Thinner than the Nate she'd known, but then, in this world of uncertain food supplies, they were all carrying less weight than they should. His hair was longer, too, down to the collar of the battered leather jacket he was wearing.

He was eyeing her watchfully, as if he was just as unsure of her as she was of him. Domino glanced at the knife, and then wiggled it at him. "Not going to try anything?"

His lip curled upwards. "Wasn't planning to."

"Good. That's always awkward," she said, and sheathed the knife.

"Met a few unpleasant versions of me?" he inquired, a sort of dark good humor underlying the words.

"That's putting it mildly." Still half-keeping an eye on him, Domino went over and sat down at the foot of one of the trees, leaning back against the trunk as she pulled her pack around onto her lap. "Have you eaten lately?" she asked, and pulled out one of the few cans she had left. She wasn't sure what it was. From the shape, maybe tuna. Or cat food.

Nate shrugged, and sat down, keeping a careful distance between them. She appreciated the caution. It was a pretty good indication that this Nate still had his head screwed on at least somewhat right, and that would be refreshing, wouldn't it?

His pack was a little larger and more battered-looking than hers, and Domino raised an eyebrow as he reached into it and came out with a small package that looked like it was wrapped in some sort of hide. He opened it up, and Domino twitched before she could stop herself.

Beef jerky.

Nate looked up at her, and smiled. A real smile, this time, although a little thin and tired. "Not beef," he said, and pushed the package towards her. "Deer. I think."

"You think?"

"Well, it was a strange color. Had these--spiny things on its back. And it hissed at me just before I killed it. I'm fairly sure it had a forked tongue." He shrugged again, almost irritably. "Tastes okay, at least. Help yourself or don't, I don't care."

Her mother might have taught her never to take candy from strangers, but Mom had never been in this situation. "Thanks, I think," Domino said, and chose a small piece, nibbling at it a bit cautiously at first.

But he was right. It did taste okay. Better than okay, actually. It had a spicey edge to it, but she'd never minded that. Boldly, she reached out for another piece, still watching him.

"So what makes you different?" she asked, chewing contentedly. He raised an eyebrow, and she waved a dismissive hand. "From the unpleasant versions of you, I mean."

"Sheer bloody-minded stubbornness, maybe," Nate murmured, and then gave her a sharp look. "Oath, how do you know I am different?" he demanded roughly. "Jumping to conclusions, aren't you?" His eyes narrowed, went flinty. "Dangerous thing to do, Dom."

She nearly choked on the jerky. *Sudden mood swing--not a good sign.* Chewing a little more, then swallowing carefully, she looked right at him, unblinking. "I guess I don't," she said as calmly as she could. "But let's just get one thing straight. I may be eating your food, but I'm not going to play games with you." She rested her hand on the hilt of her knife, quite deliberately. "The last one of you I ran into decided to fuck me, then kill me. Let's just say I killed him before he finished act two, and I have no intention of letting you even get that far."

He flinched violently, all the color draining from his face. For an instant, she was buffeted by waves of shock and horror, so intense that she threw up her hands in a futile attempt to defend herself.

In the next moment, he got himself back under control and stopped projecting. Still looked pretty pale, though, she thought, lowering her hands and studying him cautiously. She hadn't expected a reaction like that. "Well?" she asked, as if his little outburst hadn't happened. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

Nate swallowed visibly, running a shaking hand through his silver hair. "No. I wouldn't hurt you, Domino."

"Good." She eyed him for a moment, trying to figure out what he was thinking. "If it's any consolation," she ventured, remembering just how concerned some of the other Cables she'd met had been with their counterparts' behaviour (that overdeveloped sense of responsibility again, she supposed), "I'm not saying he raped me. We'd been travelling together for a little while, but he flipped out in the middle of the night and came after me."

"Oh." He relaxed minutely, and reached for a piece of jerky. "You going to see what's in the can?" he asked.

"I don't feel like wrestling with it right now," Domino muttered. "Half the time I wind up stabbing myself when I try to open them with the knife."

He glanced at the can, sitting on the ground beside her, and Domino jumped as the lid peeled neatly away, revealing--

"Hah!" she said delightedly. "Look! Little baby shrimp!" She reached in and scooped out a few, then handed him the can. "I seriously thought it was cat food."

"Hey, don't knock cat food," he said, his expression lightening a little. "Better than some of the stuff one winds up eating, these days."

"I know, I know."

They made quite a decent dinner, between the shrimp and the jerky and another of her mystery cans that turned out to hold peaches. They ate more than they should have, really, but they needed to do something to fill the sometimes awkward silence. She was pretty sure that he was safe, or as safe as anyone was who'd actually managed to survive the shifts for this long, but that didn't mean she was feeling at ease about him.

The Nate she'd had to kill--there'd been something wrong with him from the get-go, she'd been fully aware of that, but even so, she'd let herself get too comfortable. Too fond of having him around. She'd been addicted to the nostalgia, maybe. They'd slept together from the first night, and it had made defending herself when he'd finally snapped very--hard.

She'd cried, holding his body in her arms.

She never intended to do that again.

Eventually, though, they'd eaten as much as they dared, and there was only the silence, now. Nothing left to fill it, to distract themselves.

Domino nudged the peaches can back and forth with her foot. "I don't like this shift," she finally said, breaking the silence. "Too hot."

"It's the humidity that's bothering you." Nate was lying on his back, staring up at the few stars that were visible through the canopy.

"You--" Domino hesitated, shaking her head angrily at her own slip of the tongue. "He--my Nate always used to laugh, and say that he didn't mind heat as long it was a dry heat."

"I guess he and I have that in common. Comes from being a desert brat."

"Desert brat?" Domino asked, almost tentatively.

Nate sat up, blinking at her. "You didn't know, did you?" he asked, his mouth twisting bitterly. "Where he--where we came from?"

Domino gave an uneasy chuckle. "You're going to laugh, but GW and I always had him figured for a time traveler." Nate's smile widened, growing almost malicious, and Domino closed her eyes with a sigh. "Shit."

She couldn't muster even a flicker of amazement. Given what was going on around them, time travel seemed pretty blase, actually.

"I wish I'd told my Domino more," she heard him murmur.

"Did you--lose her in the shifts?" she asked, opening her eyes and watching him carefully for a reaction.

His smile dwindled, growing faint, unsteady. She got the impression that he wanted very badly to look away, to break eye contact, but that his pride wouldn't let him.

"No," he said, after a long pause. And didn't elaborate.

Silence, again, and twice as uncomfortable. Domino finally worked up the nerve to break it. "So what do we do?" she asked, trying to sound casual. "Shake hands and go our separate ways once the next shift gets here?"

"It's all right, you know," he said quietly. "We can do that if you want." A sarcastic note crept into his voice. "We don't owe each other anything."

She flinched. Part of her had been thinking just that, trying to see a way to wiggle out of any involvement with this Nate, however rational he seemed. "Are you reading my mind?"

"A little, maybe."

The forthrightness was getting to her, and not in the bad sense. Domino stared across at him almost hungrily, trying to reconcile caution and need. He might lose it, like the last one--but she WAS going to lose it, if she spent too much more time on her own.

And she missed him. Fuck, how she missed him.

"I've been alone for a long time," she said abruptly. "This isn't a world to be alone in."

"Safety in numbers?" he inquired, almost gently. In contrast, his mismatched eyes were almost fearfully intent. As if he knew she was trying to make a decision, but was afraid of the outcome.

"Something like that." Was it so wrong, to want to be with someone she knew? With him?

Nate hesitated, then grimaced slightly. "You don't really know me," he pointed out, something in his voice that made it sound as if the honesty hurt. "And I don't know you."

"Maybe we could change that," she persisted, some of her uncertainty fading. That flicker of resistance on his part--she couldn't help but take that as a good sign, as an indication that he was more like her, someone trying to survive amid all this madness, than he was like the other Cables she'd met, the ones who'd gone mad with grief or guilt or some mixture of the two.

"Maybe," he said very softly, meeting her eyes almost hesitantly. They stared at each other for a moment, until he jumped as if someone had reached out and tapped him on the shoulder. "Shift's coming," he said sharply, grabbing his pack and standing up.

"You can feel it?" she asked, following suit.

He frowned at her. "Can't you?"

"Yeah," she admitted. The sensation of an approaching storm was growing steadily, keeping pace with the increasing queasiness in her stomach. Typical shift-warning, for her. "But I think I feel something a little different than you do." She bit her lip at a faint stab of remembered grief as she thought about that last conversation on the helicopter. "It's like something--broken for you, isn't it?" she said slowly.

"We can talk about it later," he murmured, and reached out a hand. She stared at it for a moment. "Coming?" he finally asked, his voice almost gentle again.

"Yeah," she said, and took his hand as the shift swept across the rainforest and carried them somewhere else.

***

Domino sighed, her eyes lingering on Nate's face for a little while longer before she slid off the bed, carefully, and went over to sit in the chair where Kitty had been. As tired as she was, she didn't feel ready to sleep. Still too tightly wound, she supposed.

Taking a deep breath, she slouched in the chair, focusing on relaxing, muscle-by-muscle. It took a conscious effort. Stress was a constant companion around here, and it took its toll, no matter what you did.

*Face it, Dom. You're not going to be able to sleep until he wakes up and laughs at you for worrying about him.* He probably would, too. The shift-madness aside, he was every bit as much of a tough guy as the Nate in her world had been.

Tougher, when it came right down to it. He'd been able to survive being dragged back out of madness, time after time after time, and stay himself. His personality--his soul was intact, if a little frayed around the edges. It was really kind of remarkable, when you looked at it that way.

Most people, when you broke them, stayed broken.

She'd never regretted staying with him, not for a moment. It struck her that she should maybe consider telling him that, one of these days.

[next part]

back to Alicia's stories | Shadowlands archive | comicfic.net