[Nexus 100] 026. - 028.

[shimmerandsing]

026. Teammates
Word count: 248

"For cryin' out loud, Dazz. Are ya in or are ya out?"

Alison looked up into Logan's scowling face and just barely kept a grin off of hers. He didn't have a lot of patience for most things and even less so for cards. Wolverine considered poker a man's game. Alison aimed to prove him wrong.

Tweaking his patience was all part of her plan. The more frustrated he got, the more hands he lost. Betsy had already picked up on the strategy, Alison figured. The telepath had the ghost of a smile on her lips every time Logan exploded in growls.

"Remember, sugah," a southern drawl interrupted her mental gloating and she looked over at Rogue with the same blank expression. No giggling! "When the Wolverine blows a gasket, it's your turn ta clean it up."

"That sounds painful!" Longshot's voice piped up from the couch. He had been intent on his checkers game with Storm until that comment had caught his attention. He gave Logan a look of concern. He really was too cute for words. Alison had a very hard time not smiling at him. Poker face! Must keep poker face!

"I would not concern yourself, Longshot. If Logan does, indeed, "blow a gasket" then I am confident it will simply grow back."

"Et tu, Ororo?" Logan heaved a sigh and gave her a look.

"Easy, Caesar." Alison gave him a pleasant smile and tossed her chips into the middle of the table. "I'm in."


027. Parents
Word count: 321

The muted sounds of arguing had shaken Alison from her sleep and she crept out of her bedroom to the top of the stairs. Down in the living room, mommy and daddy were growling at each other again. They were too polite to ever really shout back and forth, but to six year old Alison's ears the growling sounded much worse. Like angry animals that would attack at any second.

She hunched down smaller and curled around her little stuffed monkey.

"What happened to you, Carter?" The sound of glass clinking together told Alison that mommy was pouring a drink from one of those bottles she wasn't allowed to touch. "Were you like this when I married you and I didn't notice somehow? Were you always such a boor?"

The sound of a snort of not-quite amusement floated up the stairs. Why did daddy think that was funny? "Cute. Yes, darling. I've always been like this. I've always had your best interests in mind. And, yes, I'd venture a guess that you never noticed that."

"Oh, please. Trying to keep me from doing what I love? That's my best interest in mind? You're, what? Protecting me from being happy? My hero!" Mommy didn't sound very happy to be rescued.

"This is pointless." Alison heard daddy's heavy footsteps stomping away and the sound of his study room door slamming.

That was Alison's cue to scuttle back into her bedroom and back into bed. Moments later, mommy's footsteps sounded up the stairs. They hesitated outside her door and she held her breath while mommy listened to see if she was awake. And then they continued on to mommy and daddy's bedroom.

The door closed much more softly this time. Alison was genuinely asleep when the same soft footsteps went back down the stairs an hour later, pausing only briefly in the living room before walking out the front door for the last time.


028. Children
Word count: 618

Her husband would kill her if he knew where she was. It was likely he'd have to race his son to get his hands on her first, though. But, it was something she had to do and she wasn't willing to risk their safety to do it.

Oh, she hated this place. Hated the heat, the humidity, the stench of death and hopelessness. How many times had she sworn she would never return to this world once she'd gotten free of it? Too many to count. And, yet, she still found herself coming back.

Alison inched around a pile of rubble that had probably once been a home of some sort and peeked around the corner. She was dirty and sweaty, but so far she had managed to avoid the roaming nasties and death squads. Mojoworld was still blanketed in evil, despite the loss of its chief cause.

Not far to go, now.

She had once been part of a revolution here. It seemed like several lifetimes ago. They had fought hard and ultimately lost. But, the losses were counted so much higher than just losing a simple war. Friends, families, lovers, and companions were all counted among the dead.

One had hurt her the most.

She found the place easily once she arrived at the old headquarters site. The resistance had hidden underground for the most part, but what she was looking for was above ground. She skirted the entrance to the old tunnels and climbed. Just over the edge of where the underground compound would have ended, there was a small formation of boulders. One of the few remaining natural things on this wretched planet. It was so far from the studio that Mojo had never seen fit to have it destroyed.

And on the smallest one, cradled protectively between the larger boulders, there was a tiny inscription carved into the stone. Alison sat cross legged in front of the rock and, like so many times before, couldn't help the tears that sprang to her eyes.

She'd carved the tiny heart and words herself. Sharp beams of light used as lasers to cut deep into the stone at a time when the slightest hint of activity could have brought Mojo's henchmen down on them at any second. It was a wonder she hadn't been caught and killed.

The tiny heart was surrounded by the words, Gone but not forgotten. Underneath it was her son's name. No date. The Mojoworld calendar had never made sense to her and she'd lost track of the equivalent Earth days long before she'd lost the baby.

There was no body beneath the stone. Nothing to bury, really. The child had barely begun to grow when she'd miscarried. Everything that had been tied to her child had been buried in his stead. The tiny clothes she'd begun to make for him. The baby blanket painstakingly cut from the softest cloth she could find in a world with very few comforts. A baby rattle that Longshot -- always handy with knives -- had carved in the scant, few happy moments between battles.

And, for a time, her hopes and dreams were buried there as well. She'd wanted that baby so badly. Dreamed of holding him, kissing him, rocking him to sleep at night. Her arms had felt cold and bereft in a way she had never imagined possible. Only holding her husband had seemed to warm them any.

She pressed both hands to the stone on either side of the inscription and leaned close enough to press her lips to the tiny heart representing the tiny life that had been lost.

"Mommy still loves you, baby." She murmured in soft assurance. "Always will."