Okay, I have posted this on the She Knows All group on LJ as Mind's Eye. A wee bit cliched, yes? So, it's been retooled, and changed. Love this movie, and kinda hope that there could be another little movie sometime in the future. When Joe isn't battling Wraith, I guess...

These characters aren't mine, but oh! the possiblilites!

Chapter 1

Brendan Dean sat at his desk, typing, amazed as always, how months of endless research and planning could lead to one moment. The moment passes, congratulations are handed out, then back to the office to fill out endless amounts of paperwork. Rubbing his tired eyes, he glanced over at the clock. Three in the morning? He retraced his steps, remembering what had led up to this impossible time of night. Passing a hand roughly over his face, Dean silently hoped he didn't look as bad as he felt.

"Well, maybe you should go home, Agent Dean," said a voice from behind.

Brendan nearly covered his start, but not the stuttering of his heart. "Hey, Doctor Welles." He drew a quick calming breath. "I could say the same thing to you. It's three o'clock in the morning."

But the doctor said nothing. Michael Welles stood, with his hands, as always, in his pockets, and a wry smile. Instead he said, "And your reason is –?" Welles already knew what the agent would say, but talking seemed to put the younger man at ease.

"You know how it is; there's no point going home now." Forty-five minutes to get home, then an hour of tossing and turning...

Welles smiled wistfully, remembering days gone by. "I don't have your wherewithal, Mister Dean. Those days of sleeping in my car are over; my back can't take it." Then turned to leave, hoping that Brendan would walk out of the office with him. No one should be at work after five, right? But the agent stayed seated, chin resting on hand.

Brendan watched him go, wondering briefly about the esteemed doctor's past. He still was not sure about the doctor's ties to the NSA, only that Welles had gone out of his way to recruit him. Always having the Director's ear, Welles seemed more the Devil's advocate than a resource for employees of this think tank. Now, he recruited Freya MacAllister, not just for her mind, but what she could do with it. Telepaths are still science fiction to me, Brendan thought. But she had proven herself, time and again, to be a worthy agent-in-waiting.

After catching himself dozing a third time, he stood, and decided to take a walk. Once outside, the chilled air renewed his spirit. A little colder than I thought, he said to himself as he paced the dark, non-descript entrance. He walked briskly to a small park nearby, and found his favorite bench thankfully free of transients. At this hour, Brendan surmised, there shouldn't be any problems. Letting the cool air relax his tired body, he watched the clouds drift across the moon, and cars speed by, and various people staggering home or elsewhere.

As his eyes drifted over the park, he spotted some activity. A figure detached itself from the shadow of a tree as a long black car drove up and parked. Man, I hope this is not a bad thing. After all, he and his team just put eight people in custody for arms dealing. Scanning the park, Brendan searched for a vantage point. Can't take the agent out of me for even a second! He moved quickly to the shadow of a tree, watching.

Under the dim light of a nearby street lamp, a young, well-dressed man stood still at the curb with his hands at his sides. He seemed as though he wanted to put them in his pockets, as he kept reaching for them. He stiffly bent to speak through the partially open window. After a moment, passenger doors opened, emitting two more young, well-dressed men. One had hair almost as pale as his skin in the moonlight; the other had dark hair. The first man reached slowly into his jacket, extracting a slip of paper. Brendan watched the dark-haired man closely as he snatched the paper out of the other's hand. Dark Hair nodded to White Hair, and the trunk came open. White Hair held a flashlight, shining it inside the trunk.

Scanning the park once again, Brendan moved quickly to the next tree, thankful that the moon was setting, making him less noticeable. Laying stiff cold fingers against the rough bark, he closed his eyes to concentrate on their voices. However, they said nothing; the transaction continued silently. Opening his eyes, he watched a duffle bag being lifted from the trunk. Brendan thought suddenly, Why am I here? I don't need more paperwork. What the hell is going on here? But curiousity kept him rooted to the spot.

Dark Hair handed the duffle to the first man, letting it slip from his fingers. Don't fall for it! Brendan silently warned. But the man, not having Freya McAllister's thought-reading abilities, fell for the oldest trick in the book. White Hair came up behind the kneeling man, clipping him just below the ear. He went down, but was still conscious.

Brendan reached for his weapon, still not sure what was going on with this odd meeting in the dark. Then, from the open door of the car, female laughter drifted out. "... I got it all!" she triumphantly said, as the Dark Hair and White Hair raised the other man off his knees. He rubbed his head. "Not so hard next time..."

Then man with white hair briefly stared in the direction of Dean's hiding spot. He can't see me, right? But there was something about his manner that made the agent shudder. Finally, he turned his attention to his friends who were now laughing. "No one saw us, man," someone said. "Don't worry about it." Climbing into the car, they sped away.

Cursing himself for watching this piece of bad melodrama, the agent took a deep breath and leaned against the tree, filing away the whole scene in the back of his mind. Gazing up at the lightening sky, he sighed greatly, and walked towards the office with a new resolve to finish his paperwork. However, he wasn't sure he'd share this incident with anyone. Maybe Freya, but at least she could just read and see his thoughts. The teasing would be nonstop from Merriweather.

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Freya McAllister came into the office building, boucing on the balls of her feet. She felt triumphant, invincible. Finally, she and her sister, June, were able to have an evening together without a single arguement. A huge achievement, considering their background. Freya hummed a little tune as she approached a cluster of desks, one currently serving as Brendan Dean's pillow. Leaning on the desk, she said loudly, "Mornin', Agent Dean!"

No response. He sure is cute when he's asleep, she thought, then immediately banished the statement. After all she had been through, that should be the last thing on her mind.

Freya made a quick scan of his thoughts, as she called his name again. A car, a tree, and three figures in the dark appeared in her mind's eye. Perhaps he was dreaming about his last case? Reaching over to give him a gentle shake, she said quietly, "Brendan, you should wake up now." This time, a low moan was her answer.

After another moment, his eyelids fluttered. He began to stir slowly, working out the kink in his neck. "What time is it?"

"Later than you think, Brendan." Freya sat on the edge of the desk. "You know, this is, like, the third time I've found you like this. Don't you have a home?" When he blushed, she gave him a winning smile and a pat on the back. "Was all that paperwork really so important?"

Brendan scubbed his hands over his pale face, and through his hair. "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time." He glanced quickly around the office. No one here just yet. In that case...

"This drawer," Freya said as she moved away from the desk. "Shirts in the bottom drawer, ties in the top."

"I know, I know..." He tried avoiding her searching eyes. "I know that, too," he said to answer her unsaid statement. "And, no, I haven't looked in a mirror lately."

She gave a quick laugh. "Are you reading my mind?" Moving away, Freya glanced around the office. "Well, your secret's safe with me. I'll make some coffee. And," she began, pointing at his chosen tie. "Don't ever wear that tie again. In fact, throw it away." Then she marched towards the small break room, laughing.

"What? This tie?" Brendan tried to look hurt as she berated his fat, outdated tie. "I thought maybe they'd come back in style."

"I agree, Dean. Get rid of it." Agent Merriweather appeared behind in front of his desk. Terri Merriweather looked a bit bookish, with her glasses, and smart suits. It surprised Brendan how young she was; Merriweather's crisp suits and wry demeanor made her years older. "For that matter, it's really time for a new pair of shoes." She gave a lopsided smile, and a wink then walked quickly to her desk. Naughty librarian at least, he thought, inwardly wincing as the image popped into his head. He sincerely hoped Freya did not see that!

"Is everyone going to come down on Brendan today?" He threw the tie back into the drawer, and pulled out another, along with an electric razor. Once safely in the restroom, he shook out the neatly folded and pressed shirt. Gotta get to the cleaners, he thought absently. As he took off the shirt he was wearing, Brendan noticed his reflection. Wow, I guess I do look bad. A shadowed, unshaven face, and a sad smile gazed back at him. Splashing very cold water on his face, he dried and shaved quickly. A few minutes later, fully dressed, he tightened his tie and smoothed out his hair. One last glance in the mirror showed the same pale, tired face; only now, at least, it was shaven.

Brendan took a deep breath, ready for the beating he would take from the Director, Jon Harper. When he returned to his desk, he found a hot cup of coffee and a glazed doughnut. Glancing around the office, he spotted Freya, who was sporting a creampot smile this time. Thanks. You didn't have to, he thought, waiting for her response. Nice thing about having a telepath.

You're welcome, she mouthed silently.

As he took a sip and a bite, Jon Harper breezed past him. "Agent Dean, I'm looking forward to your report." Brendan gave a little smile, wondering why he was so nervous. The bust went without a single hitch, thanks to his team's extensive research and preparation. Don't forget to bring that out, Dean. Maybe somebody'll get a raise outta this.

Entering the small conference room, he took several deep breaths. Harper was a very intense, direct person; there would be no mincing of words. He gestured the agent towards a chair. "HQ commends the hard work your team put into this case. They say they have a solid case, and should have no problem convicting DeMarco and his accomplices. Nice job."

Well, that wasn't so bad. "Thank you, sir. Agent Merriweather found the last piece of evidence that allowed us to put everything together." Was that enough? He ran through his memory for any other details.He remembered everything about the case from the beginning. The tip, the follow-up, the endless research. And one pesky little weapon that started it all. As the entire library of information flashed in his memory, Brendan closed his eyes briefly against the headache making itself known. When he opened them, he saw the director with a strange expression on his face.

Twitching his brows together, Harper folded his hands, placing them on the desk. "I've heard some things about you, too, you know. Just one more thing," he said quietly.

Brendan's heart stuttered. What now? "Ask away, sir," he said, unsure of the outcome.

Harper gave a quick chuckle. Not often did he express any outward emotion, other than the utmost control. "I'm just wondering when was the last time you slept?"

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Freya sat at her desk, eavesdropping on Brendan's thoughts. She masked her actions by staring at a newspaper, occasionally flipping a page. In her mind's eye, she watched and listened to his thoughts as he remembered everything about his case. As he did so, the details became sharper, clearer, and sped by like a super-fast slideshow. But underneath it all, like a ghostly image hovering in the background, the image of a car, three men, and a park. Freya marveled how he was thinking about all these things at once. How does he keep that memory in check?

:He uses a complex filing system. Are you spying?:

Freya snatched her focus back quickly to cover her violent start as she dropped her newspaper. "Michael! I didn't see you there."

Michael Welles gave her the usual enigmatic smile. You know me... He said aloud, "Keeping an eye on our agent?"

Freya smiled, this time, more than a little embarrassed. "You know me..." She saw a figure come towards a desk out of the corner of her eye. "Back so fast?"

Brendan sat down heavily at his desk, eyes closed. Resting his head in his hands finally, he opened them, looking directly at Freya. Yes, yes, I'm going home. He stood slowly, snatching up his overcoat. If he moved any faster, it was possible he would fall.

"Need a ride?" Freya asked, rounding her big, dark eyes at him.

He laughed. "From you? Do you even have a license?" Slipping on his coat, he bowed slightly. "No thank you. I'm relying on the fine public transportation provided by this fair city." He waved, nearly dropping the stack of files he carried. "See ya tomorrow." He turned on his heel and left.

:No you don't have to follow him:

:Are you still here?: Freya sighed internally. But I worry about him sometimes.

They both glanced up as Harper gestured Welles to join him. "Brendan will be fine." He paused before moving away. "I have an assignment for you. My office, fifteen minutes?" Then he was gone.

A little thrill traveled through Freya's spine. She enjoyed her new line of work, although she had missed a great deal of her life due to all that institution-hopping. Interrogating smug liars and criminals gave her a feeling of power, now that she had the upper hand over the voices. Then, there were those who could not speak for themselves. People so terrified, so traumatized by their experience; people injured and catatonic. There was so much information out there. So many lies and misdirection, so many plots and conspiracies, it boggled the mind. It was her job now to find the truth.

"I'll be there," she said quietly in the direction of Welles' back.

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How am I doin' so far?

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Please R&R! I'd love to hear what ya think...