Drowning Sorrows

by Alicia Mckenzie

Leaning against the doorframe, Domino stood there and watched Nathan Dayspring--suppose I should make that Nathan Summers now, she thought wearily--trying to drown his sorrows. She could count, on the fingers of one hand, the number of times she'd seen him quite this inebriated. Everything from the fridge with even the most remote relationship to alcohol was sitting on the table in front of him, and he'd gone through a respectable portion of it already. With no signs of slowing down.

Even with his metabolism, this was getting a little out of hand. I COULD just sit here and let him drink himself into a coma. She knew he wasn't in the mood for company. Once they'd gotten back to Camp Verde, he'd checked on Terry and Rictor, muttered something that sounded alarmingly like an apology--which told her, more than anything else, how rattled he was--and then retreated here. At the moment, his body language was almost screaming 'keep your distance!'

She should leave him alone, let him sort through this all by himself. But she just couldn't bring herself to turn and walk away, to leave him there. His distress was almost palpable, a living thing darkening the air, reaching out to snare her and whoever else got in range within its coils. Even with the fatigue and pain she was feeling from her own injuries, she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, knowing that he was down here, struggling to cope with the events of the day. A pretty damned hectic day, even by his standards--which was saying a lot.

"Domino." His words were perfectly intelligible, his voice only slightly slurred. "You should be resting."

"I'm fine," she said, adjusting her arm in its sling unconsciously. She'd be sore for a while, but luckily Stryfe hadn't thought enough of her to bother wasting the energy to finish the job in the graveyard. He'd been satisfied with just knocking her out, as if brushing away an insect that had happened to get in his way. "You don't need to worry about me, Nate."

"You're hurt." Because of me.

Domino grimaced, hearing what he didn't say. "I'm fine," she repeated. She left the doorway and came over, sitting down across from him. Still watching him. Trying to understand what exactly was hurting him so much that his usual methods for shoving the pain away were failing him. She supposed having your body hijacked, finding out your son wanted to kill you, and being 'reunited' with a father you'd never known would shake anyone's self-control. Even that of a man whose picture ought to be in the dictionary to illustrate the word. "You could start up your own bar here, Nate," she said lightly, gesturing at the small army of bottles on the table.

He gave a hollow ghost of a laugh, not looking at her. "I'd drink up all the profits."

A long, long silence ensued. "So," she finally said. "You were really quiet on the way back. What did you and your father say to each other?" She used the term deliberately, wanting to see his reaction.

She wasn't disappointed. Nathan's pale, haggard face paled even further, his jaw setting in an angry line. "My--Summers," he said harshly, "didn't say much. I gathered he wants to--get together and talk things through later."

"Later?"

"When I was feeling 'up to it', he said." Cable took a long sip from a bottle of vodka. "Trying to buy himself some time to get used to the idea, I suppose. I mean, it's not every day you find out your son's a man you--" He swallowed almost convulsively, his eye glowing brighter for a moment, and didn't finish his sentence.

Domino smiled faintly. "All this time not caring what any of the X-Men thought of you," she said, half-teasingly. "Now I bet you wished you'd made a better first impression, don't you?" The bottle shattered in his hand, and she jumped. "Okay, errant sense of humor, I know--let me see, Nate!" she said more insistently, when she saw blood drip to the tabletop. She took his hand, forcing it open, and winced. "Damn it, Nate--you're going to need a couple of stitches here."

"It doesn't matter."

For some reason, those three words, delivered in that dull, lifeless tone, made her furious. "Oh, really?" she snapped, knowing she shouldn't be losing her temper with him when he was this drunk and upset, but unable to help herself. "What does matter, Nate?" He stared at her expressionlessly, and her temper flared even higher. "I knew who Tyler was before Sinister mentioned it, did you know that?" she demanded. "Kane told the rest of us everything about the year he spent in your time--all about Tyler and the Canaanites and your Clan--"

"This isn't about Tyler," he said brusquely, pulling his hand out of hers. He flexed it, wincing, and got up to make his unsteady way over to the first aid kit.

"Right," Domino said sarcastically. "Sure, Nate. The fact that your son's alive and wants you dead--pardon me, wants you to suffer, THEN die--has nothing at all to do with this little pity-party you're indulging in."

"No, it doesn't," he said quietly, his back to her as he bandaged his hand.

"You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

"Thought I was too good of a liar." Again, that terrible shadow of a laugh. "Wasn't that--always the problem?" He came back and sat down, his shoulders slumping, as if the weight of the world had just descended on him. "Lied to all of you--to myself--"

"Snap out of it, would you?" she growled, battling the urge to slap some coherency into him. Brooding was one thing. She was used to watching him brood. But she'd be damned if she sat here and watched him drive himself into real depression. "Get angry, go find something to blow up--do SOMETHING, damn it!"

He glanced at her for a moment, and then looked away, reaching for another bottle. Her hand shot out, locking over his wrist with the strongest grip she could manage. "Leave me alone, Dom," he said dully.

Jean Grey had said something to her, just before they'd left, about keeping an eye on him. "We don't know what he experienced while Stryfe was in control of his body," the red-haired telepath had told her, green eyes troubled. "I can't imagine it was very pleasant."

Domino tried to imagine being trapped in her own mind, watching while her worst enemy used her body to attack the people she cared about. A shudder went through her. God, Nate, no wonder you're falling apart.

"I'm--fine, Dom," Nathan said unsteadily. But his gaze was distant, not quite focused, and Domino knew it wasn't entirely due to the alcohol.

"You're not angry, are you?" she asked softly, holding his eyes with her own. He didn't make any move to look away, or to pull free, and she sighed deeply. "It hasn't sunk in enough to let you get pissed off yet, and that's the problem." She let go of his wrist and leaned back in her chair, regarding him closely. Shit, he's still in shock--why didn't I see that? Didn't make the self-destructive behavior any more acceptable, though.

"I keep--" He swallowed. "I keep thinking I should have done something. Stopped him." For an instant, that dazed look was gone, replaced by an expression of such anguished terror that it pierced her right to the heart. "I couldn't see anything, hear anything--all I knew was what he told me. And he said he'd--that he'd--" He reached out for another bottle again, his hand shaking. "Terry and Tabitha and you--that he'd--"

His implication was obvious. Domino spared a moment to curse Stryfe, who was hopefully burning in hell at the moment. "But we're all okay," she said calmly, reassuringly. "We're fine, you're fine. It's over."

"Is it? Yesterday I was--me, and now I'm someone else," Nathan muttered, his eyes wild. "Now I have a son who's alive, who I have to find, help somehow--and a father who doesn't know what to make of me." He took a deep, shaky breath. "He couldn't even look me in the eyes when he said my mother's name, Dom. And I know about what happened to Madelyne Pryor. Maybe he wishes I'd never been born--"

It felt like someone was ripping her heart into little pieces and stomping on it. In all the years she'd known this man, she'd never dreamed she'd ever see him like this. "Then he'd be a damned fool," she said, her voice a little hoarse. "Scott Summers may be anal-retentive to the point of stupidity, but he's never struck me as a total idiot." She got up and went over to the cupboard to get a pair of glasses, more to gain herself a moment to get her composure back than anything else, although she did have a half-formed idea of slowing him down if she couldn't convince him to call it a night.

"I don't know him," Nathan said, almost distractedly. "I don't know him at all. Fought beside him all these times, and I still know nothing about him. My own father."

"Well, now you'll get the chance to learn," Domino said, as briskly as she could, as she came back to the table. She picked out a bottle of scotch and filled both glasses, handing one to him before she sat back down again. Quite a feat, one-armed, but she managed without spilling anything. "Don't you want that, Nate? To know your father?"

"I--don't know," he whispered, shifting in his chair uneasily.

"You've lived your whole life away from your family," she prodded, watching him carefully. "Time to change that, maybe?"

"I had a family." His voice was suddenly harsh, bleak. He straightened in his chair. "Tetherblood, Tyler--Jen--" His voice cracked on the name, and Domino flinched.

Jen. The wife she hadn't even known existed until Kane had told her and the rest of the Pack about the recordings he'd seen in the future--the battle where Nate had lost both wife and son in one shattering blow.

"Tell me about them," she asked quietly. He started to shake his head, and she sighed, reaching out and covering his hand with hers. "C'mon, babe. I don't care what, but you've got to talk about something--let some of this out before it eats away at you--"

He took a deep, shaky breath. She thought she saw tears in his eyes, but couldn't be sure. "Oath, Dom--I wouldn't even know where to start." The weary, pained amusement in his voice was a marginal improvement, she reflected.

"Wherever you want," she said gently. "I'm not going anywhere."

An indeterminate number of hours later, she shook the last few drops out of a bottle of rum and grumbled. "H-Had to drink all the good stuff first, didn't you?" she said, as acidly as she could manage with her head swimming. "Pig."

Nate didn't answer. His head was resting on his folded arms, on the table. His eyes were wide open, though, as if he was clinging to awareness, desperate to ward off whatever was waiting for him if he fell asleep. "Wish--wish I could've met her," he slurred. "Just--once."

Domino blinked at him. "Non sequiturs--great," she growled. "Not that y'make sense normally, but still--meet who?"

"Madelyne. Even if she did try to sar-sacrifice me as a baby," Nate muttered. "Still--my mother. MY mother, the Goblin Queen--"

Domino gave a weak laugh, scanning the bottles for anything that still had liquid left in it. "Yeah--you're going to have some issues to work out, that's for sure--" She wrinkled her nose at a half-full bottle of whisky. "Think we've just about cleaned out the resher--reserve of intoxicatin' substances, big guy. The good stuff, at least. Feel like callin' it a night?" He didn't answer, and she looked over at him irritably. "Hate it when you ignore me, Nate--" She trailed off, realizing that his eyes were closed, his breathing slowing down to a deep, regular rhythm. "Oh," she said. "Guess you're allowed t'pass out. Just wish you'd done it before. We're both gonna feel like shit in the morning--"

She rose, swaying on her feet. Have to get Jimmy and Sam or someone-- Times like this, she really missed Grizz. No way was she going to be able to get Nate back to his room. Something told her she was going to have a hard enough time staying on her own feet.

She started towards the door, but then stopped, turning and going back over to the table. Leaning over him, trying not to lose her balance, she stroked silver hair back away from his forehead in a tender gesture she would never have allowed herself if he was awake. Fear and pain and shock aged most people. Not him. He looked like a kid when he slept. Innocent, peaceful--it had always amazed her.

"Still the same person, Nate," she said softly. "Still you." He'd just gotten knocked off the horse, that was all. And he'd get back on. She knew that. He was too damned stubborn to let this, or anything else, beat him. It was why she--

Why she--

Domino muttered a curse under her breath, kissed him gently, and then straightened. "I am WAY too drunk to finish that thought," she said with as much dignity as she could muster, and went off to rustle up a couple of kids to carry their team leader and token Summers to bed.

fin

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