Leave: Part One

by Jaya Mitai

She giggled at him despite herself.  "You tease."

The charming grin thrown her way was anything but the innocent it intended.  "And exactly how am I a tease?"

She dropped her eyes demurely to the sand, digging her toes into it as she lounged on the rock sofa.

"You led me out here under the pretense of looking at the stars.  You've been staring at me all night, which I might add, is silly, because your face resembles a star more than mine.  And you still haven't kissed me yet!"  Her tone spoke volumes of indignation.  Of all the nerve, to take a girl out on a night like this and not kiss her!

His laugh was soft, deep and mellow like the inner creakings of a settled earth.  "I see.  So I'm a tease because you want a kiss and I just wanted to spend a quiet evening staring at the stars . . ."

"Don't you dare give me that 'quiet and stars' line again, or so help me, I'll trap you in rock and leave you here in peace to stare at your stars!"  Her eyes were mischievous, and he threw his head back and laughed.

"I'd like to see you try, little geokinetic."

Her grin widened.  "Is that a challenge, little brother?"

His mischievousness turned to pain.  "Oh, don't start up with that again.  You're not even a full sister –"

She crossed the distance between them, settling her head comfortably on his thigh, to get a better look at him and the sky at the same time.

"Nor do I want to be. And turn down your eye.  It's distracting."

"Yes, sister.  By all means, sister.  Am I in your way, sister?  I shall move at once!  All hail the Askani sister!"

She swatted at him.  "You're not funny."

"I'm hysterical."

"Then perhaps I should call someone, before you do yourself an injury."

"And how will I do that?"

"Run your mouth more and find out."  She put a finger to his lips, which he then took between his teeth and refused to let go.

"Give that back."

#No.#

"Oh, yes."

#Oh no.#

"Yes."

#No.  You gave it to me. It's mine.#

A purr. "Does that include anything I give you?"

#I don't know.  Try it and see.#  A smile, just at the very corner of his mouth.

"I just may."

#I'm waiting.#

She leaned up, using his strong, solid shoulder for support as she pulled herself to him.  To be truthful, his right arm was helping her with that, and when presented with her lips, he took the lower one between his teeth as well.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

#Careful.  I bite back.#

The two lovers froze, the memory perfectly clear but unmoving, as if a vid had been paused.  It had, in a way, for a young voice was asked, #Is that my father?#

#Yes, Mallie.  He is your father.#

#He seems nice.#

* * * * * * *

The door was pulled open without hesitation, timed perfectly with the footsteps.  Their Lord General always strode with purpose, somewhere between allegretto and march tempo.  His boots were made of particularly soft materials, so that while they needed to be replaced frequently, he could control the volume of his steps, announcing himself as he did now, or walking with the grace and silence of a grand pendulum, swinging ever closer to the time he would make his presence known . . . less conventionally.

There was no need to interpret his intentions this morning.  As he usually did this time of day, he was heading downstairs, to the greenhouses and the holding facilities.  In this lull of peace he had more time for his pet project, as he liked to call her.  His advisors loudly delighted in the twisted 'recreation' but behind closed doors and psishields they worried quietly and tried to guarantee that such amusement would never spread any farther than the doors of the prison.

He knew, of course.  He knew most if not all of what went on in the Palace, and it was very obvious to even the casual guests that Haight answered to the telepath with the gleaming golden eye.  Some time ago the man that had seized control after the death of Apocalypse had tried to use telepaths to bend the silver-haired man to his will, but they had failed, and Haight had become his chew-toy.

Dayspring was not a generous Lord General, and he was less forgiving than Apocalypse.

The doors were closed solidly behind him, and Dayspring's head didn't turn as a slender form came from the side to stick close to his right elbow.  He said nothing, and after a short time, the form spoke.

"He is close."

"He has been for some time now."

"No.  The plan is nearly flawless.  It will still cost him dearly, but the chance of success is . . . less favorable than we had hoped."

The hard face became harder.  "How long?"

"If the others agree, he'll be here tomorrow evening.  He still needs several components he will not receive until that time."

"Due to chance or orchestration?"

The slender form smiled, displaying perfect teeth.

"Which do you suppose, Lord General?"

He stopped, glaring down at the Askani.  When her expression continued to be one of lofty arrogance, he closed a metal fist around her delicate throat and hurled her into the nearest wall.

"I suppose nothing.  You forget who you serve, Askani."

She had managed to somewhat catch herself with telekinesis, and her eyes still held that arrogance.  "I serve the Askani'son, Dayspring.  Sanctity will not yet accept it, but that will always be you.  You serve the Askani, Canaanite Lord General.  You serve me."

Only his eyes moved, watching her walk towards him with such self-assurance that he almost laughed.  "Besides, without me, your cause is lost.  Yours is a learned cruelty, his is born of his soul.  You shall lose, Dayspring Askani'son, unless you are aided, as the Mother Askani taught."

His laugh was deep, and did nothing to discourage the sister facing him.  "Yes, the Mother Askani, in her wisdom, planned all this.  Of course.  How could I have forgotten?"

He didn't let her answer, walking past her without another glance.  She had served her purpose, and while she would be useful later in battle, she was not irreplaceable.  Another Askani could always be persuaded from Stryfe's side to his.  The one advantage Stryfe hadn't managed to steal from him.  The one he would use as deftly as a psimitar to take everything back, one little piece at a time.

His T-O fists curled with desire.

That she saw.  "Thinking I might have outlived my usefulness?  Perhaps killing me might sate your anger.  By all means, do so."  He didn't look, but he heard her move, probably spreading out her arms in invitation.  Undoubtedly she'd created some sort of problem in the event of her death.  Pity.  He didn't really think Daphne would be up for any rigorous punishment today.

"Leave me."

He didn't have to look to know that she had teleported away, and could only hope that smug, arrogant look had faded to relief.  She would die when next she came, regardless of the consequences.  It was too difficult to use the Askani without giving them something with every encounter.

Time that he started taking.

The greenhouse doors admitted him at a wave of his right hand, and the six foot eight inch metal-clad Lord General strode through, emitting waves of menace and cruelty to the rows and rows of neatly potted saplings.  The tallest of the young trees was about two and a half feet high, with bright green leaves that somehow didn't wave a greeting despite the air handling system just above caressing the young plant in gentle waves of air.

The conditions in the greenhouse were absolutely perfect for growing, and the one hundred and eighty-nine potted plants were all healthy and resilient little things, from the barely sprouted to the ones bearing a bit of bark.  It still amazed him she encouraged their growth, knowing precisely what would happen to each and every one.  Never had he fought such an unrelenting, unwavering opponent.  Her tireless resistance was something alien and very attractive.

He past the plants slowly, knowing the anticipation of his coming was always the most telling on her.  She was in for a surprise today, however, and he wanted to draw things out as long and gradually as he possibly could.

Past the far greenhouse doors he paused, eyeing the expanse of flawless steel around him.  There was something clean, something simple about metal.  He rubbed the T-O on his chin thoughtlessly, remembering the time he'd finally decided to succumb a little, use the strengths of it without giving it what it wanted.

He'd finally rendered the T-O his slave, thanks to Apocalypse's technology.  It was dead, but obedient.  He had struggled to find ways to use it to reanimate corpses, giving his army the same characteristics, but had been unsuccessful in the extreme, to such a point that his advisors had unanimously trembled before him and begged him to desist with that particular 'recreation.'

Given the smell in the soldier's bunkers, he'd finally agreed.

Past the psishielding and the teleport shielding and the energy field specifically keyed to cancel out one very specific brainwave, past the neatly cultivated dirt and mulch, past the hydroponics that watered that soil religiously, past all the technology was a form of life that had been on the planet since its birth.

A single ash stood proudly in the center of the room, its leaves turned upwards to absorb as much of the sunlight pouring through the skylight as possible.

He stood watching her for a long time, appreciating the lines of her bark, how versatile and flexible she was, for a tree.  How she could move her leaves just so, to catch every single ray of sunlight possible.  Such marvelous things, trees were.  He'd thought that in Ebonshire as a child, but he'd never really had a chance to appreciate one up close like he did now.

What made her such an attractive enemy, such an undaunted opponent, was the fact that she was a tree.

But Daphne was so much more.

The bark was badly burned on the right side, a fire that had started with one of the saplings from the greenhouse and traveled, eventually, to the larger tree herself.  That fire had burned for a long time, longer than the others, as the exhausted tree had finally summoned enough sap to wet herself into extinguishing it.  He was curious at what point she would finally shut down, finally lie dormant as a tree in the winter.

He'd never know, now, and the denial of that knowledge irked him.  Stab his eyes, couldn't Stryfe have listened to his aides?  They had written her off the instant she'd been captured.

Using one of her own children to burn her had been quite the eyeopener.  Though he could hear little of their language, he'd gotten the faintest feeling that she'd been comforting the burning sapling even as it had unwittingly hurt her so.  There was a great well of compassion tied up in those leaves and branches, cellulose and simple sugars.

He couldn't quite understand her.

"Hello, Daphne," he said softly.  He always spoke gently around her, was very gentle around her.  Never had he injured her by his own hand, never had he injured one of the saplings with his own hand.  It was very specific, it had built a trust that would be shattered today.

He knew she could hear him, knew that she was somehow at least peripherally aware of what was going on around her.  He also had learned that her attention sharpened with touch, though he blamed her empathic inclinations for that.   As a mutant, she was gifted not only as a weretree, but with slight empathic abilities as well as being a first-rate geokinetic.  As a tree, it doubtless came in handy, but luckily it was a power that she had to be at least partially humanoid to manipulate.

The inhibiting field around her large pool of soil had been installed some weeks ago, for this very day.  He'd seen no use for it the first two weeks, but once Stryfe's rescue plan became suddenly more likely to succeed, it had seemed prudent.

Now Cable was completely certain Stryfe used the Canaanites as he used the Askani.  Crossed loyalties to the true heir of Apocalypse warring with the teachings of the Mother Askani being the poor crippled version of them.

"It has come to my attention," he continued gently, "that your refusal to absorb the nutrients in your soil, as well as the extensive burns to your exterior are causing you to die.  Plant matter is plant matter, I beseech you to reconsider this suicide."

It was no surprise she was no longer absorbing food or water.  Every 'child' they'd killed had been torn up and left to rot at her roots, then churned under into the soil, specifically to be used to feed her.  While she still photosynthesized, without water on top of the burns she was slowly dying.  He had intended it.

She didn't react, as was normal, and he sighed.  "Very well.  I respect you greatly for your relentless attitude towards your children and life, and before you die I would not deny you the joy and closure of seeing your children."

Still nothing.  Undoubtedly she interpreted that to mean that he was going to order each and every one paraded into her enclosure, and watch their deaths.  In fact, he had exactly the opposite in mind.  Her death had to be slow, before Stryfe realized what was going on, restored their link.

He had known for two weeks now that Stryfe had sealed off the psilink, though he didn't feel that it was broken.  Perhaps Daphne herself had encouraged it.  It had to be driving his clone mad, knowing the pain and suffering Daphne was enduring for him, and all for Clan Chosen.  If he had been given Clan Chosen back when he'd asked, politely, none of this would have taken place.

How it had to irk his twin, his inferior, to know that now.  Pity he'd shut off the link; he'd been a lot more rational after it was sealed, made this all end too soon, too easily.

Dayspring telekinetically flicked the switch on the mutant inhibiting field, without any other movement, hurling Daphne from treeform to her natural form, human, without any warning whatsoever.

She fell with a cry, roots becoming toes so quickly he heard two crack, breaking.  Her trunk slimmed into a too-narrow abdomen, shaky legs that could not support her, and prominent ribs. The loss of twigs, which had gone to create her children, her saplings, seemed to have come from her actual mass, not any particular region.  All fingers and toes, all extremities remained.

Her hair was mostly gone, the glorious dark brown waves, the leaf green highlights rotted to a few ragged, short patches about her head.  Her skin was badly burned, as her bark had been, particularly on her right side, and as she crashed to her knees in the soil he finally heard what he'd waited a month to experience.

He heard a cry of pain, an admission of weakness from her.  His heartbeat quickened.

"My poor lady, my apologies . . ."  He strode forward, not too purposefully, not too slowly, entering the inhibiting field and temporarily nulling it.  She was far too weak and in too much pain for her to revert back to treeform, he could read her thoughts now as easily as he might read a simple child's.

Daphne's fingers were curled into the dirt, her breath coming in gasps.  Not a sound she'd made after that cry, and when she dragged her head up, just enough to look at him, he was surprised to see a very calm determination in them, completely at odds with her sagging, shaking frame –

The dirt beneath him opened, swallowing him up to the shoulders before he even had time to register that he was falling.

The soldier in the control booth saved him, there was no doubt about it, looking back.  His head was nearly covered, and he telekinetically created an air bubble, suspending himself but unable to rise due to the crushing weight of the very earth. She was trying to flatten him like coal into diamonds, and his legs ached sharply as some of that pressure came a little too close to its goal.

Dayspring had begun to think he was in a deep trouble, using his TK to support the walls of earth around him but no match for the strength of the earth.  But it eased off suddenly, so that only the weight of the earth itself was holding him, allowing him to levitate himself out of the hole, letting it collapse on itself afterwards.

He nodded to the Canaanite, noting the energy weapon he'd used had been set to stun, noting it had still left an angry red mark on her bare back.  Touching down lightly on ground once more, he hauled her up by what hair remained, earning a flinch and a surprised look, that he of all people was now inflicting physical pain.

"That's a very dangerous power. We should make sure it stays safely tucked away where it belongs."  A very simple telepathic procedure cut off her ability to access it, and then he was focusing on her face once more.

No tears.  Nothing but the same calm determination.  He would not have known she was afraid if he couldn't read her thoughts. And apparently not as well as he thought he could, either. Stryfe had taught her to hide her intentions well.

He gently released her hair, stroking her head and neck gently as he dropped his T-O hand, when he was sure she could stand by herself.  Despite the burns and the starvation, she was still a beautiful woman, long in limb and willowy, graceful.  It was not difficult to see what Stryfe saw in her, saw in both her mind and her body.

Ignoring his quickening pulse, he took his time looking over her, as if appreciating a fine piece of art or a dish.  Reading her nervousness and then grim realization.  Relishing it as it was tucked away as a memory, for Stryfe to see later.  He had been right about the psilink, it was sealed off on Stryfe's side.

Daphne was all alone in the world, with one hundred and eighty nine children in her mind, crying for attention and love.

Her memories of the past few weeks startled him.  She had been lavishing them with attention, she had named them all. She had sung them to sleep at night, she had woken them with the impression of warm sunlight and free wind in their leaves.  It was a very warm, green feeling, one that seeped into his bones as simple comfort without his even noticing.  And those little saplings had leaned into it, had experienced true joy and comfort despite their surroundings.

Even now she was reaching out to reassure them after her tiny lapse and pain, and they were being reassured by the impression of large, soft leaves brushing theirs, of older roots making small channels so groundwater was more accessible to them. Again, the feeling of warmth, so like the human joy of being cradled by a soft, warm mother on a cool desert night –

He ripped his mind away as he realized what it was she was doing, luckily in time to catch her hands, reaching for his face.  He was reacting on instinct, and he had thrown her to the cool wall, both wrists in a crushing grip at her right shoulder, before he slacked off the pressure.  She pulled at him, more strongly than he expected, but he held her locked in place, only a body's length from her.

"Tsk, Daphne.  You're no telepath."

"I can't help it," she told him, a lilting voice made harsh by dry throat.  "Your mind is screaming for your mother's comfort, and you're touching me."

Her words angered him, as she had intended them, and he purposefully drew her against his body, stepping to meet her halfway.  He felt her barely perceptible flinch, he watched her eyes grow wider as he deepened his breath.  She tried to pull away again, but with the wall behind her and him before, there was nowhere to go.

"Is that what you wish to bargain with, Daphne?  Comfort?"

Even burned, even starved, he could watch those deep green eyes forever.  Her dark brown skin was in lovely contrast to his paler, though tanned flesh, and if that link were active, the things he could find pleasure in doing to her . . .

But he didn't want to kill her just yet, and given her condition and his own strengths, rape was probably not prudent at this point.  He honestly wasn't sure how much self-control he could muster, not after the month they'd spent together.

It didn't stop him from touching her. Didn't stop him from building the memories that would haunt Stryfe for the rest of his life.

"I think I have more comfort to offer than you, empath," he whispered, watching her eyes widen as his hand wandered ever lower.  Every shade of green imaginable was in them, lightest at the pupils, ringed in a darker hunter green with golden rays expanding outwards like his own eye.  Like the earth mirroring the sun.

"You are a beautiful woman, Daphne.  I shall keep a few of your daughters ever present near me to remind me of how beautiful you really were.  I fear even my perfect memory will lose some detail of you."

Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers struck home, and once again he had to gather himself from going too far.  He had planned this too well, he had to remember the greater rewards, not the immediate ones.  She was trembling in his grasp, now, yet she didn't beg.  For the first time he could see a little fear in her eyes, but had he been a foot away, it too would have been invisible.

How could a woman be this strong?  "You surprise me, Daphne.  Your strength is unequaled."

"You disappoint me, Dayspring," she replied levelly.  "Your honor is dead."

He smiled, leaning his forehead on hers, letting his eye reflect in hers and studying it.  "You Askani still believe in the prophecies of the Mother.  When will you accept that she was daydreaming?"

Daphne didn't answer, she was trying too hard not to give him the satisfaction of her voice faltering.  He wasn't hurting her, he knew in fact that due to dehydration and lack of food that she would be enjoying the sensation even against her will.  Perhaps it was that she wished to hide more than her fear.

A smile touched his lips softly, like a leaf floating to the mirrored surface of a lake.  The ripples of it didn't extend all the way to his eyes.   "If there is any comfort I can give you this day, fair lady, I will.  Tell me what it is you desire most, and it shall be yours."  He didn't stop what he was doing, and despite himself telepathically gave her just a nudge in the right direction, just enough that she was completely unable to ignore what he was doing.

She fought to keep her breathing under control, and broke eye contact, looking away.  "I wish to see to my children."  It was the only time her eyes had left his, and it only made his desire grow.

"Your clones."  No more than a breath.

"My _daughters _" The anger gave her a distraction from giving him satisfaction, as though the faltering, the looking away had never taken place.  Now her eyes had tinges of browns and reds, earth tones.  "You seem to be the only one that doesn't quite understand –"

He used the strategic placement of his fingers to jerk her closer, and got a tiny little inhalation of pain.  "I seem to be the only one that does," he hissed, ever so softly in her ear.  "Anything that is a perfect genetic copy is a clone, Daphne.  It's a very simple definition."

She somehow managed to twist her face into something mocking, green eyes dark with suppressed emotions.  "Nothing is ever black and white, Dayspring.   Didn't Sanctity teach you that?"

Startled, he leaned back, watching her face.  Was it common knowledge that Sanctity had actually gone out of her way to teach him, rather than fight him?  She was useless as a spy, he supposed that it didn't matter if they knew now, but if they had known before, if the flonqing woman had somehow betrayed him –

Her eyes were almost mocking, but there was such a sadness there that it made both ineffective.  "You could have been the best of friends, the closest of brothers," she told him softly, as softly as he'd ever spoken to her.  "You could have, if you'd wanted it."

He tried not to snarl, but he wasn't sure how it came across.  "I wanted my parents back."

"You never lost them."

"Your daughters will not say the same," he murmured, composure back despite the fact his blood was boiling now with rage rather than desire.  His lips were less than an inch from hers, and with the barest brush of them against her lower lip he withdrew all his support, telekinetic and otherwise, watched her stumble with hands against the wall behind her to catch herself but fail, falling to her knees at his feet.

The symbolism wasn't lost to her, she was back on her feet as soon as she was able, the quiet confidence slipping back into place.  "My daughters, Dayspring.  I want to see my daughters."

He'd intended to make her beg for the privilege, but reconsidered.  "You shall see them."  He gestured with a slight nod to the guard in the control booth, who had one sent in from the greenhouse.  Daphne practically squared her shoulders before she started the long, painful walk to the door and past, to the greenhouses.  She never looked back to see if he was following, though he had turned to watch her leave.

When the doors closed, he allowed himself to relax, one hand braced on the wall in front of him.  A few deep breaths cleared his head, helping him get his sense of perspective back.  He'd very nearly taken that too far.

When he had sufficiently recovered his composure, a brief telepathic scan revealed the man in the control booth had come down.  It was a younger soldier, one he knew didn't approve of his tactics.  It came as no surprise; the soldier's brother was the palace healer.  Dayspring looked up at the approaching Lieutenant Brynt.

"Good reflexes.  You'll receive a commendation."

He received a curt nod.  "What are your orders?"

"Give her a few hours. When she is no longer able to stand, notify me.  Have someone else enter the room with flame, burn only half of them.  I have something more in mind, and we can't tip Stryfe off too early.  If she fades slowly enough, he won't even notice."

He received another curt nod, and watched Brynt leave him, back to the palace to get the equipment necessary.  And took another deep breath.

[next part]

back to Mitai's stories | Dayspring archive | comicfic.net