The Hunters: Part One

by Alicia McKenzie

'The right drink for the right occasion', that had always been her motto. Sort of like there was a language of flowers, there was a language of alcohol, though learning it took years, and far too much practice for your own goods. But she'd had both. So she knew that beer was for social drinking, that Scotch helped take the edge off the world when a little constructive 'blurring' was in order. She knew that enough tequila got rid of certain key inhibitions.

Unfortunately, the question of what to drink when she wanted to achieve total unconsciousness as quickly as possible was still, as it had always been, highly problematic. Her alcohol tolerance had actually grown higher over the years, if such a thing was possible. Though it was occasionally a blessing, there were times when you just needed to get absolutely stinking drunk, and she couldn't. Not unless she really worked at it.

But the bottle of pepper-flavored Stolichnaya she'd just fetched from the kitchen was nicely chilled, so she'd give it the old college try, yet again. Domino smiled mirthlessly and filled her glass, managing not to spill any. Her coordination was suffering just a little from her afternoon's experimentation with good old Jack Daniel's.

It was a good start. But only a start. Leaning back against the headboard of the bed, Domino wondered precisely when she'd given up on yet another of her once iron-clad personal rules. Drowning your sorrows--she'd always hated the idea, which was sort of ironic given how often she'd needled Nathan for being such a control freak. But she'd never liked the thought of losing control while you were struggling with the latest trauma life had thrown at you. If you did, you might let something slip, let someone see that you were bleeding inside. The mask might crack. And that would be bad.

Right now she didn't give a shit about any of that. Wouldn't have even if someone had been here to see her. Somewhere along the line, her pride had vanished entirely. It had probably been about the same time that she'd come back to consciousness in that medevac 'copter to hear someone say that the rest of X-Force was dead, that she was the only survivor.

Alone. Again.

Her arm started to itch beneath the cast again. A bit apathetically, Domino considered taking it off. It had been two weeks now, and the break was probably pretty much healed. There were definite benefits to the mutant metabolism, even if hers didn't let her get properly drunk.

She swished the vodka in her glass, her gaze drifting apathetically around the bedroom, lingering for a moment on the glass doors leading out to the deck. But it was too bright out there; she preferred the shadows. Not to mention the air conditioning. She'd rented the beachhouse last week, more for the view of the ocean than anything else. But it was anonymous, too, and semi-isolated. A good place to lose yourself in--and damn, how she wanted to lose herself.

Almost defiantly, she gulped the vodka down. It burned, but nowhere near as badly as her memories did.

***

Someone was standing over her. Ordinarily, this would have been a cause for alarm, but as she cracked open eyelids that felt incredibly heavy and saw who it was, she couldn't bring herself to be more than mildly started. And maybe a little irritated, because he was definitely looming over her. Looming was an art. It took skill, and practice. She'd been around some talented loomers in her time, but he, of course, really had it down--

The looming person shook his silver head. "Oath," he said coldly in that deep, gravelly voice. Domino shifted irritably as the sound of it shredded at her very last nerve. "Look at you."

Now he was making faces at her. Typical. Dull, petty anger smouldered inside her, and Domino tried to sit up. It was harder than she'd expected. The room kept spinning around her, and her head didn't seem to want to stay upright, but she managed it, and glared up at him blearily.

"Fuck you," she said. The words came out a little slurred, but she didn't care. She'd stopped caring what he thought ages ago, because it had been so perfectly clear that he didn't give a damn about her. No more one-way streets for her, oh, no. "G'way. Get out of my h-house."

"I don't think so." He bent over her suddenly, and Domino let out a yelp as he scooped her up as if she were a child.

"Put me DOWN!" she shrieked at him, trying vainly to hit him. But his face didn't seem to stay in the same place for more than a moment at a time, and so she kept missing him. "You sonnuva--"

"Let's not get tedious, shall we?" He strode across the room and kicked open the bathroom door. Domino was too busy thrashing in his arms to wonder what he was doing, until his eye flashed bright gold and the sound of running water filled the air.

The realization of what he was about to do pierced the alcoholic haze. Domino struggled harder, calling him every profanity she could think of in half a dozen different languages. But he didn't let her down. He strode right over to the bathtub and dumped her in beneath the running shower, as if she were a sack of potatoes. Domino shrieked again as she was immediately drenched in ice-cold water.

"You bastard!" she howled at him, all too alert now. She tried to scramble out of the tub and wound up on her rear again. Clearly, her coordination was still gone. "Get me OUT of here!"

Cable leaned back against the edge of the sink and watched her. And he WAS Cable, a part of Domino's mind observed a bit hazily. That was the Cable-face, and there wasn't even a tiny little gleam of Nathan in his eyes. Domino opened her mouth to swear at him again, and the intensity of the water increased as the faucet turned all by itself.

"Are you trying to fucking drown me?" she screamed. He tilted his head at her, and she tried to throw the soap at him. It missed by a mile. "Stop it!"

He smiled thinly at her. "Make me."

She lunged for the faucet once more, but slipped again, barely managing not to smack her head. STOP IT! she finally shrieked at him silently.

Nathan's head jerked backwards as if she'd slapped him. He grimaced, his brow furrowing for a moment, and the water turned itself off. "All you had to do was ask," he murmured as she slumped, gasping. He grabbed one of the bath towels off the rack and moved towards her.

She was too cold and disoriented to resist as he lifted her up and out of the tub as if she weighed nothing, and wrapped the towel around her as he carried her back out into the bedroom. "You b-bastard," she repeated miserably as her teeth started to chatter. "W-what was THAT for?"

"You're drunk," Nathan said calmly. "I need you sober."

Anger reared up inside her like a striking snake. "You son of a bitch, do you think I give a damn what YOU need? Fuck you!" Wrenching around in his arms, she tried to hit him again, and actually managing to connect this time.

With the wrong side of his jaw. Domino groaned in pain, wondering dimly if her hand was actually broken, or it just felt that way.

Nathan merely shook his head. "Don't do that," he sighed, and deposited her on the bed.

Domino laid there limply, staring up at the ceiling. What the hell had she done to deserve him showing up here to torment her like this? Come to think of it, there had to be a reason why he was in her life, period. She had to have done something REALLY bad in a previous incarnation.

He muttered something, and Domino went rigid with disbelief as she felt him unbutton her jeans. "What the fuck are you doing?" she spat, batting at his hands feebly.

"Getting you out of these wet clothes."

Now he was undressing her? She didn't fucking think so. "Don't TOUCH me!" she growled instinctively, flinching as he touched her. She didn't want anyone to touch her.

His hands were--so gentle, though.

Nathan sighed again. "Far be it from me to interfere in someone else's self-flagellation," he said, his voice clipped, "but I'm not letting you get sick just to satisfy your need to punish yourself."

That momentary feeling of wistfulness faded. "Fuck you!" she hissed, and kicked out at him as he pulled her jeans down over her hips.

The kick connected solidly. Nathan rocked backwards with a grunt, pain flashing across his face, but his expression hardened again almost immediately and he went right on undressing her. Domino squirmed away as he got her jeans off, but he caught her by the back of the shirt and hauled her back.

She did the first thing that came to mind, and tried to hit him again. Nathan caught her wrist, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Stop that," he said in a low, deadly voice. He sounded like he meant it, too.

Domino laughed, feeling a little reckless. The vodka, she knew, but she didn't really care. "Or what?" she snarled as he started to pull her shirt up over her head. "You'll take me over your knee and spank me?"

"Don't tempt me."

"Since when did you ever need tempting?" Domino leaned towards him, baring her teeth. His turn to stiffen, and stare back at her warily. His posture altered subtly, and for a moment she thought he was going to push her away, but he didn't. "Let me guess," she went on viciously. "You've gotten bored with the X-Men, and so you decided to come look me up." He raised an eyebrow again, and she leaned in closer, letting the angry smile linger on her lips. "And you dumped me in the shower, just to have an excuse to get my clothes off."

"Don't flatter yourself, Dom," he growled.

"Oh, come on, Nate," she hissed at him. Hating him so fiercely that she could taste it, like bile at the back of her throat. "We both know why you're here. You're bored and you're horny, and I'm better than a favorite whore because I've never made you pay for it!"

Nathan's eyes went flat. He yanked the shirt up over her head and it caught on the cast, trapping her arms. Domino tried to pull away, but the breath caught in her chest as he pushed her back flat against the bed, pinning her to the mattress easily. Something close to fear fluttered inside her, and she tried desperately to ignore it. He wouldn't. He was a bastard without peer, but he wouldn't. She shifted under him anyway, trying to get a little leverage, find an opening.

He didn't give her one. "You know, that depends entirely on how you define paying for it," he murmured, a strange, savage little smile playing on his lips. Hatred choked her again, but he went on, his voice so soft it was barely more than a whisper. "But say that it's true. Say that all I came here for was a friendly drink and a good quick fuck. What do you think you could do about it, in the shape you're in?"

Grey bleakness tried to crowd the anger out as she realized how true that was. "L-Let me go." It was the vodka, causing that stammer. Just the vodka.

Nathan didn't budge. "You were so out of it, I could have done anything I wanted to you when I first got here," he said, reaching up with one hand and stroking wet hair back from her face. It was a gentle gesture, almost tender, but Domino shuddered and tried vainly to heave him off her. No luck. It was like trying to move a mountain. "I could have done it then, and I could do it now." His eyes burned as they bored into hers, and Domino turned her face away with something perilously close to a whimper. "Not because you're drunk," he murmured in her ear, "but because you don't care what happens to you."

Then he straightened, letting her go. Domino sat up and yanked the shirt off all the way, throwing it at him. "Fuck you," she rasped, on the verge of tears and despising him for it. If she'd had a knife in her hands at that moment, she would have gone for his throat. "Get the fuck away from me!"

Nathan stood up, gathering her wet clothes. "I'll look after these. You get some sleep," he went on coolly. "We'll talk later."

Domino laughed shakily. "You'd better be gone when I wake up, or I swear to God I'll blow your fucking head off," she said, meaning every word of it.

Nathan raised an eyebrow, studying her as she huddled, wet and shaking on the bed. "Don't make me laugh, Dom," he said, and closed the door behind him.

***

The smell of coffee woke her up. Fresh coffee. It was so familiar, bringing to mind so many good things that she relaxed, instinctively. Morning already? she thought, smiling sleepily and reaching out a hand to the other side of the bed, expecting to feel warmth there, where he'd been--

--only he wasn't. And he hadn't been. Nate hadn't been in her bed for a long, long time. Domino's eyes snapped open as the memories of where she was and what had happened came back in a rush, all of them surprisingly clear.

She sat up too fast, and groaned as her head pounded with pain. "Shit," she muttered shakily, pushing tangled hair out of her eyes and looking around through narrowed eyes.

She relaxed a little as she realized she was alone in the room. The lights were on, but dimmed almost to nothingness. Outside, it was full dark, the moonlight gleaming on the water. It had been four in the afternoon when she'd sat down with the bottle of Stolichnaya. She must have been asleep for a while. Glancing at the clock, Domino stiffened as she saw that it was after midnight.

Hours. She'd been asleep for hours. And if she was smelling coffee, then he hadn't gone. This was--not unexpected, but that sure as hell didn't make it all right. She remembered very clearly telling him to go, or else.

Taking a deep breath, Domino slid off the bed. The room seemed to swim around her, and she started to wonder just how much alcohol was still in her system. She walked very carefully over to the dresser, took out a t-shirt and shorts, and donned them as quickly as she could. Ignoring the cold, agitated flutter in the pit of her stomach, she went back over to the bedside table and picked up her Browning.

This was probably more or less completely insane, but it felt so weirdly--right. Drawing on that strange, disassociated resolve, she straightened, squaring her shoulders. Hangover be damned. Nathan had pushed things too far. It was about time that he learned that she meant what she said. That she didn't take kindly to being manhandled and threatened. And used--

I need you sober, his words echoed in her mind.

What he needed was a bullet in the head. But she'd settle for an extremity.

Slipping out into the hall, she saw the lights and moved soundlessly towards the kitchen/living room area. The idea of him plopping down contentedly in the place she was calling home these days infuriated her. He had no right to be here in the first place. Why hadn't the bastard just left her alone? She wasn't going to buy that he'd suddenly started caring about what happened to her--

He WAS in the living room, too. Sitting calmly in one of the armchairs by the bay window, and reading her newspaper. Perfectly at home. Smouldering silently, Domino stepped forward, raising her gun.

#Put it away, Dom.# Nathan's voice in her head sounded almost bored.

He had even less of a right to be in her head. "Shut up," she hissed, moving farther into the room and keeping him in her sights. Her hand wanted to shake, but she forced herself to keep it steady. "I told you I wanted you gone when I woke up, Summers. Why the fuck don't you ever listen to me?"

"I listen," Nathan said calmly. "I'm just not very good at doing what I'm told. Besides," he said, turning the page, "you don't know what you want--well, other than to shoot me. But I'm hoping you haven't killed enough brain cells the last couple of weeks to make yourself stupid enough to do that. Put the gun away."

Domino choked back a slightly hysterical laugh. "You're telling me what to do?" she demanded wildly. "I'm the one with the gun, Nate."

"And I'm the one with the telekinesis." He folded up the newspaper, tossing it in the direction of the table as he rose and turned towards her. His expression was bleak, set in an uncompromising mask. His game face, she thought, inconsequentially--but there was something just a bit off about it. A brittleness, barely visible around the edges. "So, who has the advantage here?"

Okay, so the gun wasn't going to do her much good. But she didn't want to put it down just yet. It would feel so good just to shoot him, once, in the arm or something. She ITCHED to do it.

Nathan smiled faintly. It was the sort of smile that made most people take a step or two back, just in case. She'd always wondered if he practiced it in the mirror. "Dom? If you pull that trigger, I'm going to take the gun away from you and do something unpleasant with it."

He probably would, too. "Fuck you," she said dully, lowering the gun. He wasn't going to let her shoot him, and she didn't have the energy to keep posturing. "Why are you here, Nate?"

"Later. Want some coffee?"

Her stomach tried to tie itself into knots at the thought. "No, I don't want any bloody coffee."

"Fine," he said, his eyes still lingering on her, intent. "Hope you don't mind me having some, then."

"Knock yourself out, asshole." She leaned against the wall and watched as he went into the open kitchen and poured himself a cup. There was definitely something off about him, she thought fitfully. There was almost an--energy, crackling around him. He was all but vibrating with it, but not in a good way. He looked edgy.

She really didn't give a fuck what his problem was, though. She wanted him to go away, to get out of here and away from her. Whatever he wanted, whatever he needed, he could just go and find it somewhere else. There was nothing left for her to give him.

Not that she was inclined to feel generous, in the first place.

"You sure you don't want a cup?" Nathan asked again, his back to her.

"I said no, damn it."

"Something to eat, then?" he inquired. "Not that you've got much in your refrigerator, but we could order something in."

Her stomach lurched again. The thought of food was even worse than the thought of coffee. "This is touching, really," she said in as cold a voice as she could manage. He turned to face her, sipping at his coffee, and she folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. "But aren't you a little late, Nathan?"

His eyes narrowed, but his expression stayed bland. "Late?"

"You should have looked me up two weeks ago. You might have been able to make yourself useful." Her imagination tormented her briefly with how that last confrontation with Romany Wisdom might have gone if he'd been there. If they'd had his tactical sense, and his telepathy--it could have changed so much.

But he hadn't been there. He'd been off playing hero, so wrapped up in himself that he'd pushed her and the kids right off his priority list. He'd abandoned them, and now they were dead. Domino caught her lip between her teeth, biting down until she tasted blood, trying desperately to lock the building storm of emotions inside her safely away. She wanted to scream at him, to beat him into an unrecognizable pulp for having the gall to show up here, now--

But she wouldn't.

Nathan slammed the coffee cup down on the counter, so hard that the contents splashed out onto the pristine white. "Let me get this straight," he said, his voice soft, almost pleasant. The contrast between it and the look in his eyes was so vast it was almost comical. "I should have been around then, because you needed me. Any other time, though, I'm expected to stay as far away as possible. Have I got that right?"

Domino's mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "Sure," she said, her voice shaking with anger despite her best efforts to keep it steady, "make this about us. Not that there is an us." If he made this about them, he didn't have to deal with the fact that the kids were dead. Avoiding difficult subjects was what Nate did best, after all.

Muscles rippled along his jaw, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, then relaxed. "Touche," he said, that mask of neutrality descending over his features again. It wasn't nearly as convincing this time. The brittleness was almost painfully obvious. "What I can say? You bring out the worst in me."

"Fuck you," she said harshly, and sat down on one of the tall stools beside the island. She laid the Browning down on the counter, within easy reach.

"Right," he said in a voice that sounded hoarse enough to make her look up at him sharply. But his back was to her again, as he mopped up the spilled coffee. "You sure you don't want a cup?" he asked, refilling his.

"Stop--trying to change the subject," she gritted. Calm. She had to stay calm. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of losing control again. He'd probably enjoyed that scene in the bathroom to no end. "The kids are DEAD, damn you. Don't you care?"

Nathan turned and glared at her. She felt a momentary petty satisfaction at the heat in his gaze. "What kind of a question is that?"

"A fair one," she said bitterly, staring right back at him. "Where have you been, Nate?"

He leaned back against the counter and smiled coldly at her. "Let's make a deal, Dom. I won't make this about us, and you won't make this about me."

"Why shouldn't I?" she challenged him, trying to keep her voice, her expression, as cold as his. "Plenty of blame to go around, Summers--"

"Oh?" he murmured, his eyes never leaving her face. "Is that why you're trying to drink yourself to death? You're wallowing in your share of the blame?"

Domino flushed. "Bite me," she grated. "I'm dealing with it--"

"Bullshit."

"Like you'd know?" Domino laughed a little breathlessly, and picked up the Browning again, turning it over in her hands. "Like you'd know about dealing with anything, you stupid shit--"

"True. All too true. But you know what?" Nathan asked, that same bitterness in his voice, now. "I don't blame myself for not being there." She folded her arms across her chest again, continuing to glare at him, but he went on implacably. "I should have been there. I--wish I'd been there, but I don't blame myself. I don't blame myself because I made the choice to leave them and let them go their own way. And I still think I made the right choice."

"Oh, really."

"Yes, really. You think I liked the idea of them hooking up with Wisdom? I didn't. I liked what I heard about their activities this past year even less, but--" Nathan hesitated, his mouth twisting. "It was time to let them go," he said more quietly, sounding suddenly tired. Old. "They were ready to make their own choices. They weren't 'kids' anymore, Dom."

"Is that what you tell yourself to make yourself feel better?" Domino asked, gripping the gun so tightly that her knuckles went white. "They were all grown up, so you had no responsibility to them?"

"Maybe," he murmured with an almost feral smile. "What do you tell yourself, Dom? You were the one who was there. You walked right into that situation with them--"

Rage exploded inside her and the gun came up, almost of its own accord--

--and he was there beside her with impossible speed, wrenching it out of her hand. Domino couldn't do anything but gape up at him, wondering how the hell he'd done that. His telepathy? Nate didn't--couldn't move like that. He had to have tricked her perceptions, somehow.

"I didn't come here for this, Dom," he said, taking out the clip and passing the Browning back to her. His expression was neutral again, the mask nearly perfect.

"What then?" she asked numbly, bracing herself on the edge of the counter. Her balance felt iffy, and she didn't want to fall off the stool. "To save me from myself?"

"No," Nathan said, far too calmly.

"Then WHAT, Nathan?" Her voice broke. If he hadn't come because of her, why was he here? There was nothing else to do, nothing that COULD be done. They were dead, and there was no fixing that--

"Think about it for a minute," Nathan said, turning away to pour another cup of coffee. He moved towards her slowly, unthreateningly, and pressed it into her free hand. "About what you were just thinking, I mean." His eyes were fierce, but the fierceness wasn't directed at her. "THINK, Dom. You didn't see them die. You only know what they told you."

"You--think they're alive?" she asked in a voice that came out sounding very small. She'd wondered. She hadn't been willing to take British Intelligence's word for it, but she'd been afraid to start looking. Terrified of what she might find.

And part of her had been convinced that they were dead. Everyone she cared about died, or left her. She killed them or drove them away, it was just that simple. Domino swallowed, opening her eyes very wide to keep the tears back. Part of her writhed in shame. Shit, she was a mess. A pitiful, maudlin mess--

Nathan shrugged, his eyes a little softer as he watched her. "Jimmy, Tabitha, Bedlam--I don't know. Knowing what happened, my guess would be not, but that's just my natural pessimism."

"Sam," Domino breathed, her heart clenching in her chest as her mind processed the name she hadn't heard.

"Sam's an External, remember?" Nathan looked grim, anger flaring behind the walls in his eyes. "Hard to kill, and a lot more valuable alive to someone like Romany Wisdom."

Sam, alive? She hadn't--she hadn't been thinking about this, period, Domino realized, running a shaky hand through her hair. She hadn't been thinking about much of anything. It had just been--the same old nightmare, and she'd been stumbling through it because she hadn't been able to do anything else. Instinct. It had just hurt so much--

"Sam," she murmured brokenly. "Do you really think--"

"I don't know. But if he is alive, I'm going to find him," Nathan said, absolute icy conviction in his voice. She knew that tone. It was his 'I want this, and I'm going to move the world to get it' tone. "If he and the others are dead, I'm going to find the people responsible."

"So why are you here?" she managed to ask.

He smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Because I want you to come with me," he said. "Why else?"

***

"Surveillance photos, sirs," the young intelligence officer said briskly, handing the latest folder over. "From our operatives in California. They were faxed in on the secure line this morning."

Alistaire Stuart nodded and took the folder, opening it. A moment later, his eyebrows headed for his headline and he swore softly. "Is that who I think it is?" he asked, holding the first picture up to the light and then turning it so that his companion could see it.

It showed a tall, silver-haired man at the door of a beachhouse. The subject was looking back over his shoulder, as if he'd become aware, in the moment of being photographed, that someone was watching him.

"Bloody hell," the man in the shadows observed sardonically, and lit himself another cigarette. "Guess it's a good thing we kept a tail on her."

Stuart sighed. "Lovely," he said, rifling through the rest of the folder. Cable appeared in a half a dozen other shots. In the last, he and Domino were loading bags into a Jeep. Leaving, apparently. He suspected it would be very interesting indeed to know where they were going. "This is liable to complicate matters," he muttered.

"Depends, old son," his companion observed casually. "I mean, it's clear as day what he wants with her, isn't it? And neither of them are the type to let sleeping dogs lie."

"The 'dogs' in this case are dead, no?"

"Dead, sleeping, who's to know?" the other said with a nasty chuckle. "Either way, those two could wind up being very helpful." He tapped his cigarette against the ashtray. "If they go hunting for the truth and turn up my nasty sister, we'll be there to jump on the opportunity. So it depends, Stuart. It depends entirely on whose scent they find."

"Still playing your game, Peter?" Stuart asked, a bit distastefully. X-Force's fate had bothered him more than he was willing to admit. The fact that the other man seemed so unconcerned was just one more reason to look at him a bit sideways. "They're a dangerous pair to be using as pawns."

"True," Pete Wisdom said with a hard, cheerful smile. "But that's what makes them so useful, isn't it?"

to be continued...

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