Nathaniel is dreaming
[Locked to Isobel_Chambers and Benditlikebea]
Nathaniel is not used to having pleasant dreams.
When Apocalypse altered him, he made it so that Sinister dreamed of only terrible things. Nightmares that woke one from a sound sleep, gasping as if trying to shout, to scream, to speak. Phantoms in the dark, designed to torment. Apocalypse did not want sleep to be a respite. In the same vein, the healing factor with which he gifted Sinister hurt while it healed.
These alterations had a purpose. They were to make Sinister stronger, to drive out weakness with a metaphorical lash. It was to make him a monster, soulless and dispassionate and hardened to physical and mental pain.
They worked.
When Apocalypse went to sleep a final time amidst the stars, his servant-turned-betrayer had nightmares still. Nightmares of Apocalypse's return. Of him finding Rachel, torturing her and making her suffer for the sins he'd committed.
And then Rachel had restored his emotions. And the man Sinister had been before Apocalypse woke back up, and Sinister became Nathaniel Essex again, slowly but surely, without even noticing. Apocalypse would have been angry, if he were able to notice.
Nathaniel sleeps very little, even now. He is at home in the quiet darkness of the early morning, when everything is still and the city sleeps around him. Sometimes he dreams about genetics. Sometimes he dreams about things that make no sense; making bread in a laundry basket, playing marbles with Isobel who is wearing a bonnet.
Tonight, Nathaniel is dreaming about Rachel.
She is beneath him, sprawled out on his bed, all naked long-limbed grace. Eyes drowsy and bright with lust. That smile on her face that both challenges and seduces, makes him want to hurt her and make her moan for him.
Nathaniel has his hand around her neck. "I hate you," he says to her. Feeling the fragile bones beneath his hand.
"I know," she says, and touches her fingers to the diamond on his forehead. She draws them down, over his face. Presses them against his lips. "Poor Sinister. It doesn't feel very nice, does it, to be the one who's manipulated. Maybe now you know how my family felt. How they all felt. Gambit. People who had nothing to do with your vendetta against Apocalypse. You ruined lives, lover. You know it's only fair someone ruined yours."
Nathaniel knows he is dreaming. He knows Rachel is not there. His hand is not wrapped her around neck, and her body is not beneath him, naked and faintly damp with sweat. "I always survive," he says, leaning down. He kisses the side of her neck. There is enough fresh memory to recall her scent, the way her skin tastes. The feel of her pulse dancing beneath his tongue.
It will fade, in time. The memories always do. Lilacs no longer make him think of Rebecca. Cigarette smoke and whiskey-rich voices no longer make him think of Faye.
"Yes," Rachel gasps, and digs her nails into his back, sharp hot pain just like he likes. The Phoenix mark she burned on his skin is becoming a memory. Like she will be. Something that burned bright and hot and then was gone. "But now you know. There are better things, than just surviving. Now you know what it is like to suffer loss. My gift to you, lover."
Nathaniel bites her neck. Rachel cries out, in pain and want. "You still want me. I know that you do." He pulls back, to look down at her. She is smiling up at him, lips parted. Face flushed. White spills out of the deep green of her eyes.
"Take them back," Nathaniel says, tightening his hands. He is not sure if he is speaking to her, or the thing that glows and burns and casts shadows on her beautiful face. He remembers with an almost unholy craving the feeling of utter dispassion, what it was like to arise from that machine and care for nothing and no one. He wants it back. "You healed me without my permission. Fix what you did to me."
"You never ask. None of them. Jean or Scott or Cable or Madelyn. You steal and bribe and torture and use. And you never asked, not once." Rachel smiles, and there is fire licking out of her mouth. "I did fix you, Nathaniel. So that you could feel it when I broke you." She kisses him and it burns against his mouth, but he doesn't stop.
The next voice that speaks is not Rachel's, though it comes from her mouth.
{{why don't you go find him, in the stars, your master. a lifetime of servitude and you could have it back what you want nothing nothing you could be nothing and it would be so easy maybe he'll forgive you }}
After the Phoenix speaks he sees the deadened metal eyes of En Sabah Nur standing next to the bed. "Are you ready to accept my offer, Nathaniel Essex?" Words spoken years ago, when Nathaniel made his deal with the devil. Apocalypse has one hand wrapped around Isobel's neck. She is human and therefore unnecessary and weak. Beatrice stands beside Apocalypse with metal wings and vacant eyes, the mark of the Horseman. You bring me servants, and I will give you back what she took. After I have had my vengeance upon you for your eons of betrayal. Maybe I'll let you kill the Grey girl for what she did to you.
Nathaniel wakes up. He is choking his pillow. His heart is pounding and he can hear it in his ears, an echo like the sea. Apocalypse is not there. There is no breath of a sign of his former master. Beatrice is asleep in New York. Isobel is dreaming something pleasant and benign, she's fallen asleep with the television on in her bedroom and the screen glows a soft, cheerful blue. Rachel is--
A man is hurting her. Rachel is making him. It is not what she wants but she lets him do it, graceless and unrefined as his is about the whole thing, and she lies down for him and gives him her body in return. Nathaniel does not want to watch. He stands up and pulls his hair back.
He will go downstairs and play the piano. In the morning, he will go to work. Tomorrow night, he is not going to sleep.
This is the fourth night in a row he has had that dream. He does not want to have it again. Nightmares are worse when you know how to feel.
Nathaniel is not used to having pleasant dreams.
When Apocalypse altered him, he made it so that Sinister dreamed of only terrible things. Nightmares that woke one from a sound sleep, gasping as if trying to shout, to scream, to speak. Phantoms in the dark, designed to torment. Apocalypse did not want sleep to be a respite. In the same vein, the healing factor with which he gifted Sinister hurt while it healed.
These alterations had a purpose. They were to make Sinister stronger, to drive out weakness with a metaphorical lash. It was to make him a monster, soulless and dispassionate and hardened to physical and mental pain.
They worked.
When Apocalypse went to sleep a final time amidst the stars, his servant-turned-betrayer had nightmares still. Nightmares of Apocalypse's return. Of him finding Rachel, torturing her and making her suffer for the sins he'd committed.
And then Rachel had restored his emotions. And the man Sinister had been before Apocalypse woke back up, and Sinister became Nathaniel Essex again, slowly but surely, without even noticing. Apocalypse would have been angry, if he were able to notice.
Nathaniel sleeps very little, even now. He is at home in the quiet darkness of the early morning, when everything is still and the city sleeps around him. Sometimes he dreams about genetics. Sometimes he dreams about things that make no sense; making bread in a laundry basket, playing marbles with Isobel who is wearing a bonnet.
Tonight, Nathaniel is dreaming about Rachel.
She is beneath him, sprawled out on his bed, all naked long-limbed grace. Eyes drowsy and bright with lust. That smile on her face that both challenges and seduces, makes him want to hurt her and make her moan for him.
Nathaniel has his hand around her neck. "I hate you," he says to her. Feeling the fragile bones beneath his hand.
"I know," she says, and touches her fingers to the diamond on his forehead. She draws them down, over his face. Presses them against his lips. "Poor Sinister. It doesn't feel very nice, does it, to be the one who's manipulated. Maybe now you know how my family felt. How they all felt. Gambit. People who had nothing to do with your vendetta against Apocalypse. You ruined lives, lover. You know it's only fair someone ruined yours."
Nathaniel knows he is dreaming. He knows Rachel is not there. His hand is not wrapped her around neck, and her body is not beneath him, naked and faintly damp with sweat. "I always survive," he says, leaning down. He kisses the side of her neck. There is enough fresh memory to recall her scent, the way her skin tastes. The feel of her pulse dancing beneath his tongue.
It will fade, in time. The memories always do. Lilacs no longer make him think of Rebecca. Cigarette smoke and whiskey-rich voices no longer make him think of Faye.
"Yes," Rachel gasps, and digs her nails into his back, sharp hot pain just like he likes. The Phoenix mark she burned on his skin is becoming a memory. Like she will be. Something that burned bright and hot and then was gone. "But now you know. There are better things, than just surviving. Now you know what it is like to suffer loss. My gift to you, lover."
Nathaniel bites her neck. Rachel cries out, in pain and want. "You still want me. I know that you do." He pulls back, to look down at her. She is smiling up at him, lips parted. Face flushed. White spills out of the deep green of her eyes.
"Take them back," Nathaniel says, tightening his hands. He is not sure if he is speaking to her, or the thing that glows and burns and casts shadows on her beautiful face. He remembers with an almost unholy craving the feeling of utter dispassion, what it was like to arise from that machine and care for nothing and no one. He wants it back. "You healed me without my permission. Fix what you did to me."
"You never ask. None of them. Jean or Scott or Cable or Madelyn. You steal and bribe and torture and use. And you never asked, not once." Rachel smiles, and there is fire licking out of her mouth. "I did fix you, Nathaniel. So that you could feel it when I broke you." She kisses him and it burns against his mouth, but he doesn't stop.
The next voice that speaks is not Rachel's, though it comes from her mouth.
{{why don't you go find him, in the stars, your master. a lifetime of servitude and you could have it back what you want nothing nothing you could be nothing and it would be so easy maybe he'll forgive you }}
After the Phoenix speaks he sees the deadened metal eyes of En Sabah Nur standing next to the bed. "Are you ready to accept my offer, Nathaniel Essex?" Words spoken years ago, when Nathaniel made his deal with the devil. Apocalypse has one hand wrapped around Isobel's neck. She is human and therefore unnecessary and weak. Beatrice stands beside Apocalypse with metal wings and vacant eyes, the mark of the Horseman. You bring me servants, and I will give you back what she took. After I have had my vengeance upon you for your eons of betrayal. Maybe I'll let you kill the Grey girl for what she did to you.
Nathaniel wakes up. He is choking his pillow. His heart is pounding and he can hear it in his ears, an echo like the sea. Apocalypse is not there. There is no breath of a sign of his former master. Beatrice is asleep in New York. Isobel is dreaming something pleasant and benign, she's fallen asleep with the television on in her bedroom and the screen glows a soft, cheerful blue. Rachel is--
A man is hurting her. Rachel is making him. It is not what she wants but she lets him do it, graceless and unrefined as his is about the whole thing, and she lies down for him and gives him her body in return. Nathaniel does not want to watch. He stands up and pulls his hair back.
He will go downstairs and play the piano. In the morning, he will go to work. Tomorrow night, he is not going to sleep.
This is the fourth night in a row he has had that dream. He does not want to have it again. Nightmares are worse when you know how to feel.