Internal Conflict

The torturous scream would have ripped through the night air had the thick rain not successfully dampened its effects. Heavy drops pounded the woman’s soaked body as she struggled to alleviate the burning sensation that reverberated through her entire frame. Her breathing was erratic, borderline hyperventilating, as her pale face became further etched with anguish. Grabbing at the red brick, her fingers clawed for anything to hold her weight up. But there was nothing other than cold stone. Then another cramp stretched from the small of her back and wrapped toward her abdomen, incapacitating her yet again. Dropping to her knees onto the unforgiving pavement, hands on her rounded belly, she screamed again. The contractions were relentless.

She rolled to her back, those hazel eyes searched the churning storm-filled sky. She used the lightening bolts to uncover the shadows and illuminate the invisible. But he was nowhere and the pain was not stopping. She clutched a silver medallion around her neck, awaiting the next wave of pain. Blood was beginning to mix with the water and before long she was lying in a red puddle.

The contractions were one after another, her loins seeming to be on fire. She grabbed the fabric of her skirt and forced it upward to expose her thighs. Separating her legs partially, she found this to be the only comfortable position that wasn’t compromising to her or the child within. She knew she could either push, and make the pain end quicker, or fight the urge and endure the intense agony until someone, anyone, came.

But, the baby would not wait and the raging contractions were right on top of one another. She could actually feel the flesh tear, as her body strained and ripped to allow the infant more room to depart from its 8 months in gestation.

She had never given birth before, and aside from watching videos in high school health class, she had absolutely no idea what to do. Her body shook uncontrollably. She felt cold and still he was not there. More painful clinching and tightening in the abdomen forced her to muster what little strength she had to finish the onslaught of brutal pain. Another scream climbed to her lips and flew unanswered into the blackness. Tears streamed from her probing hazel orbs, each tear a reminder of his absence and her desire for his strength and touch.

And then, when she felt she could take no more and that her body would cease function, the pain subsided as quickly as the assault began. The infant, unmoving and covered in a layer of milky white vernix and blood, had finally finished passing from the birth canal and rested silently in a pool of the mother’s warm blood.

Her energy utterly vanished, body trembling and an isolated coldness settling, she reached for the child, unable to touch the precious newborn. Her eyes fixated on what seemed to be a lifeless form, until the infant’s eyes opened and the small lips parted. A fistful of cold air swept into the virgin lungs, a new and strange feeling for the baby. One more gulp of air sent the child into a screaming fit marking the moment that the mother passed from this plane of existence to the next. All the baby could see was a slight smile upon her mother’s serene face, a calming expression that meant nothing to the child.

Nathaniel flung his head up, bullets of sweat pouring off his thick, grey brow. He furiously rubbed his eyes, demanding the horrible vision from his mind, the eternal nightmare that would not concede to reality. The very thought of the heartrending moment only intensified his feelings, sending him into a mental battle of chaotic emotions.

Laced between his thick fingers was a simple medallion on a thin silver chain. The circular object boasted what appeared to be two overlapping sideways U’s that were carved away from the metal. It was plain though quite delicate in nature.

“Hey, are you alright?” Nathaniel pulled his hands away from his tired, old face to witness Rose’s warm smile and caring blue eyes. Her red hair rested comfortably on her shoulders in bouncy ringlets, a sharp contrast to her pale skin. There was no questioning her beauty, and there was no denying her kind heart. With one hand on her extremely round belly, she placed the other on her father’s shoulder. “Bad dream?”

“Yeh. They seem to be haunting me.”

Rose leaned down and placed her lips on his moist forehead, transferring a loving kiss to the man before stepping away and finding a seat. She carefully guided her pregnant frame onto the couch cushions, balancing her body carefully. “You shouldn’t worry so much. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“I know. I just can’t help it. I worry for all of you. And I fear what would happen if any of you fall into the wrong hands. And I…” He hadn’t the heart to describe the recurring dream or explain the significance. “I…I just don’t want anything to happen to any of you.”

“If she needed our help, she would contact us. She knows where we are. She is smart. Just like you.” Rose knew her father was hiding something from her and the entire clan, but she assumed there was a good reason for the secrecy. She would not disrespect him by prying. “If you would like, I can get you something to drink.”

“Don’t be silly, Rose. You dote on me too much.” Nathaniel flashed her a forced grin then moved to sit next to her. “If anything, I should be offering to get you something. I’m sure this one here could use a drink.” He tenderly placed a hand on her belly. “What do ya say, little one? Hungry? What? What was that? I do believe my grandson is indeed hungry.”

“Don’t you mean granddaughter?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe. We don’t know that yet. I’m still hedging my bets that it’s a boy. I can see him now. He’ll have his mother’s red hair and good heart, his father’s intelligence, and his grandpa’s good looks.”

“Don’t you mean my good looks?”

“And where do you think you got those looks, little miss,” he teased.

“Clearly not you. Mom was stunning. You are just old.” She elbowed him playfully.

“Ouch. Mean words,” he responded, pretending to be offended.

“In the event that it is a girl, you had better be ready to put her in dresses and play dolls.”

The man laughed, a good wholesome laugh that lifted his spirit. “Oh, dear Rose. I didn’t even play dolls with you. I tried to get you to play with G.I. Joe, but all you wanted to do was have Joe come to Barbie’s tea party. It just wasn’t right. Joe doesn’t do tea.”

She grinned. “Well, you had better start practicing now, because Joe will need to learn to brew and pour the tea. Barbie doesn’t want any deadbeats.”

“My grandson will make sure that Joe destroys tea parties.”

Rose sighed. “It might be a girl.”

“We’ll see. Just a few more months and we’ll see.”

Moments later, the tall fit figure of Marcus pushed through the door and marched across the room. He fiddled with some paperwork scattered on a desk and scribbled some notes. He dropped into a high back chair and pushed toward a computer, punching in a series of commands while chewing on a toothpick. His black hair was more awry than it usually was, his boyish features deceptively hiding his true age. A major difference from him and present company was his rich cobalt eyes that were filled with mischievousness and intrigue.

“Excuse me for a moment, my dear.” Nathaniel lifted from his seat and drifted toward the man. He was concerned for Marcus. His aide and friend had not been the same since the horrible, unforeseen event. For three long months, he was forced to watch Marcus beat himself up inwardly over a situation that was not his fault. “Any news from the surface?”

Marcus did not look toward Nathaniel. He just kept pounding on the keyboard and flipping through notes. His soul ached. “Still got my eyes and ears toward the northeast. I’m narrowing it down, but it’s probably Vermont. Though,” he paused, thumbing through his legal pad, “it might be Maryland. She’s getting better at covering her trail, but I’ll find her.”

“Take a break and join me for a drink.”

“No thanks.”

Nathaniel rested his chin on clasped hands just watching the computer screen and listening to the hum of the fan cooling the hard drive. “You are going to make yourself sick. Please, Marcus. A drink.” It was no longer a request.

Suddenly the typing ceased, Marcus’s fingers merely hovered over the keys. He dropped his head and sighed. “Very well.”

It was as if Rose had heard the entire conversation. She had already fetched drinks and handed them off to her father who mouthed a grateful ‘thank you’ as she left the room so the men could be alone. Nathaniel gulped the dark fluid, a consistency somewhat thicker than water. Marcus merely stared at the contents, eyeing a red reflection that brought him shame.

“This isn’t your fault, Marcus.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it. You did nothing wrong. She left to protect you. To protect all of us. She doesn’t know any better. We can’t blame ourselves for her selflessness.”

Marcus shook his head disagreeably. “But, Nathaniel, if I had handled the situation differently. If I had just fought back or maybe even died, she wouldn’t have run. She would be safe and in your protection. Because of my poor decision-making, she is out there being hunted by the best. And until I find her, she is in immanent danger.”

“Is she in danger? Yes. But that is not your fault. You did nothing wrong. You did something very courageous and in doing so saved her life. We cannot change the course of past events. We can merely accept that they happened and try to overcome them.”

“And that is exactly what I’m doing. I owe it to you to find her and bring her back safely. I don’t care what you say. I promised you that I would protect her. This is my fault.”

“Dear Marcus. You are like a son to me. We do not need to be flesh and blood for me to love you as my own. And I tell you now, my son, you did nothing wrong and you owe me nothing.” Nathaniel paused, unsure how to proceed. A hand was placed on the man’s shoulder for assurance.

When Xavier and his crew had arrived at the cliff, they had found Alena hovering over Marcus to prevent the deadly sun from consuming his badly mutilated body. Anthony had left him for dead, but Alena had found him and sheltered him for hours. Once they were within the safety of the clan and relocated to a secure hideout, Alena stayed by Marcus’s side, refusing to speak to anyone about what had happened or who had attacked them. After about a week, it was apparent that Marcus would recover completely from his countless injuries.

The very next day, Alena was gone. She had slipped past the people that were watching over her and disappeared like a phantom into the night. No one had heard from or seen her since that day, though everyone was convinced she was still alive and on the run. Nathaniel had returned from Rome one day late, a regret he silently harbored every day.

“Honestly,” the elder continued, “I think she stayed around as long as she did because she was concerned for you. I was told that for five long days she sat next to your bed, refusing to eat or talk to anyone. She cared for you deeply.”

Marcus lifted his distressed gaze to meet his mentor’s. “I’ve got to get back to work.”