To the Last Syllable of Recorded Time - Part XIII

To the Last Syllable of Recorded Time - Part XIII

     Zach's voice was a low, furious rumble. "What do you think you weredoing back there?"
     The husky retort was more controlled, but still tense. "Saving our collective asses, that's what."
     "More like trying to get my wife killed." This time it was pure, lazy menace.
     Unimpressed, the ST supressed a snort. "Looked more like using my brain to me. Something you were obviously not able to do."
     The sense of danger rose, filling the cabin. The confrontation was primal and needed, but Niko simply wasn't up to it. And since Doc chose to ignore it, snuggling deeper into his chair, she moaned.
     Long and subdued, the sound was enough to startle them out of the haze of violence that floated around them. Two pairs of eyes turned towards her, worry chasing the last vestiges of outrage away.
     She allowed her forehead to relax, granting them a tired look. They turned away, silenced for the time being.
     Grateful for the ensuing silence, Doc thought the feeling of the soft upholstery against his maltreated back was the most heavenly sensation he had ever experienced. A part of his mind wanted to reflect on the present and worry about his teammates, but the largest part just wanted a good nap.
     Drifting in and out of a fitful sleep, getting up only to eat and take his tranquilizers, eight days later he still hadn't truly decided which part was going to win. He was immensely thankful as Ranger One entered one of the countless hangars at BETA, and Walsh's worried face greeted them at the entrance.
     The problem was off his hands -- for now. He only hoped Q-Ball would cease fussing soon, so that he could get a good night's sleep in his big, comfortable bed...

     Lying between cool sheets in a bed that was big -- too big -- and too lonely, Zach was sweating, despite the pleasant coolness of climate-controlled air. He watched the colored lights of the nightly ship traffic travel over his skin, highlighting the white material of bandages and healing patches for the bionic side of his body, where the artificial skin required special treatment.
     Caught between restlessness and an exhaustion so complete that it was almost impossible to deny, he couldn't sleep. Twisted as it was, he had become used to hearing the raspy breathing of his wounded teammates as they hovered together in a small cell, Shane's low, meaningless whispers as he tried to comfort Niko over yet another nightmare.
     Niko, maybe the one who carried the deepest wounds from this nightmare of a mission. She had explained the wonder of Eliza's rescue to Zach, even allowed him a glimpse into her mind to convince him. And he had been convinced, despite the mistrust and the older, long-nurtured belief that something quite so good never happened to him.
     Through the tentative happiness blossoming inside him along with a giddy sense of wonder, he had still seen a world of hurt in her haunted eyes, as she related her view of the mission to Q-Ball then Walsh, a tale of time manipulation so incredible that it sounded impossible. But the increase in her powers was important proof, as was the now useless implant. All in all, she had behaved like an automaton, just going through the moves until at least her physical injuries were dealt with and she was granted a few hours of rest in her quarters.
     She had demanded them in order to meditate. She would have to settle down and focus so that she could prepare herself for the transfer of Eliza's consciousness into the body that was just now being transferred to the mountain from Longshot.
     It was still hard to believe, but so was the fact that he was lying alive in his bed at BETA, soaking through his standard-issue sheets and feeling the night lights pass over his face. He would have to change the sheets for Eliza's return -- he still had the white satin ones stashed away in a drawer somewhere. He remembered how much she liked the slide of satin against her skin but had refused to indulge in the luxury of actually buying genuine satin sheets until he had surprised her...
     The hiss of the door was low, almost inaudible. He reacted instinctively, swinging long legs out of bed and tossing the light coverlet aside. His eyes registered the blurry form of a woman outlined in the yellowish light of the opening, her stance soft, whispering of cozy familiarity. He even sensed the tantalizing texture of a familiar presence, but his eyes insisted that it couldn't be her while his brain screamed the opposite.
     And still, his eyes betrayed him. She should have been smaller, of sweeter, rounder shapes. The shadow was slender and pale in her white nightgown, but too tall, too -- willowy. Only the auburn lights in her too-long hair were almost the same, the husky intonation of his name as she rushed toward him on naked feet.
     "Zach."
     He caught her as she stumbled against him in a jumble of forgotten reflexes and burrowed against his naked chest, shivering. His treacherous mind rejoiced, recognizing her accents as she murmured nonsense against his skin in sweet flowing tones, husky from lack of use.
     Eli! his mind screamed, defying reason.
     "Niko." This was his voice, somehow overriding the crazy impulses that sent his arms tightening around her waist. "What are you doing here? You shouldn't be..."
     Her voice was small, choked when she answered and he felt like a big, careless animal. "I -- I'm sorry. I couldn't stop her. Myself." She paused, blinking up at him with luminous eyes. "Brain patterns react instinctively to a carrier body, you know? They -- they tend to take control. She -- I -- didn't do it on purpose."
     Strangely enough he understood what she was telling him, stroked her hair in reassuring motions when he couldn't think of a better reaction. Exhaustion and potent tranquilizers had combined to a haze around his reason, rendering his surroundings increasingly dreamlike. He barely winced as her arms went around his neck, hitting against one of the nastier bruises in the process.
     "I missed you so much!" Her face burrowed in the curve of his shoulder, her clinging hands small and needy against his skin. It was hard not to answer when clouded reason told him he was holding his wife while his eyes claimed he was embracing a teammate he had no business touching, much less in such a familiar manner. It was even harder when he was suddenly confronted with the entreaty of her warm mouth against his, her fingers locked around his neck demandingly. Half convinced he was still asleep, he longed to yield to the sweet illogicalness of it all for a moment, allow her what she was so intent on doing.
     It was even more of a surprise as she suddenly broke free, the elegant line of her spine stiffening under his hands. Her expression as she looked at him was a strange mix of horror and longing.
     "Oh, Zach." He wondered at the mortified redness of her cheeks, screaming against her redhead's skin. "Gods, I'm so sorry! I must have fallen asleep during meditation -- I can't keep her separated any longer. Our -- our minds, they are starting to merge. I have to transfer her soon, else --"
     "Niko?" Fully awake now Zach shook his head, steadied her as she threatened to fall from his lap. Only now did he fully register her clothing, the slim white column of thin silk that flowed down to her ankles. He thrust a hand through his hair, frowning. "I thought I was asleep, to tell the truth."
     Too tired for true embarassment, he still felt the need to excuse himself for the instinctive response to her kiss, but she merely shook her head. "No need. She wanted to kiss you, and being part her, I wanted it as well. Your mind recognized her, you know." She smiled wistfully.
     To someone of his principles it was still mortifying -- half asleep or not. He started to tell her that in halting sentences, but as the door hissed open again, with a much more ominous sound, Zach realized that explaining things to her might be futile after all. At least judging after the expression of the six-foot-five predator with flashing green eyes and bared fangs who was now effectively blocking out most of the light from the corridor.
     "Shane." It was Niko's voice, a wealth of nuances in the one word. Softness and horrified fascination were the predominant ones.
     "What the hell is going on here? And what are you doing in hisquarters?" The low, menacing rumble heralded the ST's advance towards the bed. Zach wondered why there was no fist already adorning his face. If Niko, or Eliza, more exactly, had wanted a kiss, the ST obviously wanted Zach's dead body. Preferably at his feet for further maltreatment.
     He had expected Niko to rush to Shane, explain something he himself had had trouble understanding. Instead, she remained perched on his lap, looking the blond directly into the feral green of his pupils.
     "Eliza wanted to pay Zach a visit," she announced with the boldness of the doomed. Was that fear he heard in her voice? It was strange of the telepath to fear Shane, even when he moved with that barely leashed, lethal grace. And he seemed to sense her fear as well, for the predatory intent changed into a strange disgust, causing a faint snarl to curve his beautiful lips.
     "I see," he stated flatly. "I called your quarters, but you weren't there. I was afraid something had happened to you."
     He nodded curtly towards Zach in a silent peace offering. Then he looked coldly at Niko, letting her see the feeling of betrayal her reaction had caused. She shivered in response, tried in vain to swallow the hot painful knot that formed in her throat. This was not about Zach anymore, it was about her mistrust. About the image of a battle knife in Shane's elegant hand, the surgical precision with which it had found her heart.
     All of which he didn't know. Didn't need to know, even if it caused a rift the size of a canyon between them. Still, there had been tenderness as well, a tentative closeness -- Niko couldn't evade the feeling that she had crushed something very precious. As in validation, he stared long and hard at her, but the shower of angry words she expected didn't come.
     "See you tomorrow," was all he said instead, before turning on his heels and striding out of the door, feeling as if a forest fire was ravaging his stomach. And this time it was truly Niko that lay sobbing in Zach's arms, mourning the loss of something she had never truly owned.

Epilogue

     The awakening of Eliza Fox was a small and somewhat hurried affair. Not at all the solemn event her husband and children had expected when Zach had made his vow long ago. Two years, three months and two days ago, to be precise.
     Q-Ball wiped away a little moisture out of his eyes as he stepped back and allowed Ranger Niko to pass. He refrained from commenting on the lateness of the hour, her unusual choice in clothing, or her red-rimmed eyes. It was not only politeness but also the way Gooseman was staring at everyone in the room, his black mood obvious in his gaze. As obvious as the fact that he was just waiting for someone to make a remark he didn't like.
     No, Q-Ball knew better than to comment. Instead, he watched reverently as the telepath placed her hands, palms down, on Eliza's psychocrystal and closed her eyes. Her hands seemed to glow red for a moment with the light of the quartz, and then her eyes flew open again, something suddenly gone from them. Something that had been there before.

     Compared to the effort and pain that had preceded this moment, it was obscenely easy.
     But as it was, the crystal had vanished, and everybody could see Eliza's chest lift instinctively with the first real intake of air. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused like a newborn's.
     Trembling and confused, Niko moved to make room for Zach, who was already rushing to his wife's side. She tripped over the hem of her silk robe with uncharacteristic clumsiness -- the strong hand that gripped her elbow to steady her belonged to Shane. It felt warm against her icy skin, but a short glimpse revealed no such warmth in his eyes: she stared into icy emerald slits. Swallowing painfully, she averted her gaze and chose to watch Doc instead -- the only cheerful person in the room, with a grin that threatened to split open his face.

     Oblivious to everything else but the new sensations flooding her, Eliza stared at the ceiling, struggling for control over another body, this time truly her own. The impressions were overwhelming: the light tickling of warm fingers across her face, the bright artificial light and the many smells... The blurry, beloved face just above her. It was a huge effort to focus, but she managed to imbue her lips with a slight upward tilt and to curve a finger, motioning for Zach to bend down. He did, kneeling beside the bed, his gaze never leaving her face.
     There was only one thing she wanted now, the one thing she had wanted for the whole time her mind had been trapped in a crystalline prison. It was a symbol of everything that had kept her sane whenever she thought she would never feel anything again. It was worth the effort to speak.

     Zach watched Eli's lips part slowly, curling tentatively around the first word she was going to speak in more than two years.
     "Zach?" The hoarse, raspy sound of her voice didn't bother him. Instead, it flooded his eyes.
     "Yes, sweet?"
     A slim hand crawled slowly up, aided by rusty muscles. His own hand joined hers, placing it around the column of his neck where she wanted it. Her eyes managed to focus, the blue bright and misty. Slim fingers dug determinedly into his skin.
     "Kiss me again."
     And he did.


END

To the Last Syllable of Recorded Time - Part XIII

From Betamountain.org