Who Said Things Were Going To Get Easier?

Disclaimer: The 4400 belong to USA network...

A/n: Since I've only seen the first parts of the second series, this is where it's set. Unfortunately, I haven't seen the rest of the series due to... life, being its usual, annoying, self. If what I'm writing isn't on par with what has happened in the series, forgive me, and consider it AU.


Windows Lounge, The Four Seasons Hotel; Los Angeles

"Johnny Walker, Blue Label, neat." Shawn Farrell told the bartender, lazily bringing out the cash for the order. He looked back over his shoulder, deciding whether or not to take a seat in the throws of the plush couches that littered the bar lounge. He decided against it, slipping into the bar seat at his side and thanking the barman once he'd gotten his drink. He'd been synonymous with fatigue for the past few months, but now, there was a new sensation which plagued his thoughts. Frustration. Months after he and Jordan had exchanged words with regards to his position within the 4400 center, he'd slowly begun to feel more and more controlled, confined. He couldn't make a move without his mentor's approval; any idea was run through him first. Even now, he was at the recent convention by Jordan's request, though whether he had anything significant to contribute while there, was anyone's guess. He took a sip of his drink. After which he wondered when exactly he'd started drinking. He was a pawn on a chess board, nothing more. But, why should he be more? Until almost two years ago, he was still in high school, doing things that most high school students did. He hadn't graduated, hadn't even thought about it until now, so why did he feel he deserved more than where he was now? Shawn tapped the glass, finding that he wasn't getting anywhere with all of the questions... in truth, he hadn't been for a while.

He looked up, and froze at the site across the room and outside.

Without thinking, he took another sip of the scotch whisky blend, suddenly realising there wasn't a drop left. When had he finished it? He ordered another, asking that it be charged to his room. Doubt gripped him as he starred at the back of the statuesque figure, a pure white, floor-length dress barely covering her frame, with an open cut that stopped just short of her derrière. Jet black hair, collected in a clasp at her nape, traveled the length of her back, and glowing, mocha skin completed the palette of colours. Her body ironically mimicked the shape of the champagne glass which she'd set at her side on the balustrade. He ran his knuckles along his lips, finding they were all too dry. With a gulp of the golden liquid, he strode across the carpeted floor, finally reaching her on the small patio. She'd kept her back turned, not noticing the addition. He moved closer, his lips an inch away, and whispered a single word.

Shawn noticed how she held her breath, worried after a time that she might not breathe out. Eventually, she did, and without turning: "Bonsoir, Shawn." He missed it; that warm, breathy voice bathed in a sure French accent. It was then that she made a move to face him. Something about her had changed, though he couldn't quite be sure what it was. Her manner was cold, distant, all of the things she had never been. "I assume you are here for the convention, non? The 4400 and their impact on society?"

He didn't speak, simply studying her with his eyes. She was as simple as elegance would allow, and more alluring for it. He moved to set down his scotch glass, unaware as she closed her eyes, breathing in his scent mixed with the smooth blend. He moved back, arms resting on the balustrade on either side of her, still bound to silence. It was her turn to study him. His tailored suite displayed the authoritative businessman she had seen in him once before, though now he wore both the attire, and the manner, with far more confidence. To all around them, he seemed the perfect example of a man in control, but she'd caught the single, almost unrecognizable flaw in his armour; his features had hardened, belying his age and speaking volumes. She'd guessed correctly just what had caused him such stress, though she could never be sure. The warm night breeze sent a rush of gooseflesh as he held her gaze. Was it the breeze?

"Why?" He asked simply. Her brow furrowed, but he knew she understood the question. She was stalling. "Why did you leave?"

"I didn't leave, I moved. If I left, it means that I would've been leaving something behind... or someone, or both." She explained.

His throat tightened, sensing the unasked question that hung between them. "Where have you been?"

"Why does it matter?" She countered quickly.

Shawn couldn't answer. What the hell was going on? He'd known her for less than a week, more than four months ago and yet... "Fine, don't tell me." He shrugged.

"Safe." Now wasn't the right time to tell him, so she'd have to do the best she could. It seemed she'd said enough, and he nodded, accepting it. "How have you been?" He nodded again, though not all too convincingly. The silence lingered between them. "I think I should get going." She moved against him, blocked still by his bulk. "Shawn, please."

He dropped his head, lips brushing against the soft flesh of her neck. Her hand moved back, knocking the champagne glass of its resting place and unintentionally gripping his hand. "Why, Anäis?" Breath hot against her. "Why do you have to go?"

He was close, too close for her to remain level-headed. Though her resolve was quickly melting, she gathered what little she had left. She countered him, moving her lips to his ear, and running them lightly along the appendage. "Because I'm afraid of what might happen if I don't." With that, she pushed against him, finally getting him to move and let her past.

888

Briefing Room, NTAC; Seattle

Tom Baldwin, Diana Skouris, Nina Jarvis and a host of ten or so NTAC agents filled the briefing room. They'd been working overtime for the past few months, fighting against an unknown threat, if it was one at all. The Elite had been a constant thorn in the side of the center for some time now, simply because nobody knew what to expect from them. Whether they were working for the good of others, or themselves remained to be seen. NTAC had thus far been unable to locate the safe house, or speak to another 4400 who knew of its possible whereabouts. Either those 4400 just didn't know, or they just weren't saying anything; the first option was more comforting. In the meantime, the center had enough brass down its neck to start its own band, and all of it was coming straight from Washington. 'Better the devil you know', seemed to be the motto, and the 4400 center couldn't be appreciated more at this point.

"Agent Ruiz, Handler, were you able to get a hold of the spokeswoman for the group?" Jarvis asked.

"Yes, ma'am. She's been dodging all contact with the authorities for a while, but we finally caught her. Unfortunately, the public relations company which she works for has received a gag order preventing any of the employees from divulging information, to anyone. Since the Elite have yet to do anything that even borders on threatening, we've got our hands tied legally." Handler explained.

"Excuse me, but am I the only one who watched the news report calling the 4400 to arms? They even said that they'd been singled out and chosen for a purpose." Tom interjected. "What part of that isn't threatening?"

Diana shrugged, leaning back. "The call to arms could've just been a figure of speech. And whether it's for good or bad, they have been singled out for a purpose. They're just telling the truth."

Ruiz: "Yeah, but they're being trained to use their abilities, probably to fight."

"That's like putting a dojo under surveillance because the students there are being taught how to fight. Besides, they could argue that they're just trying to keep the general public safe by teaching the 4400 with active abilities to control them. I doubt that anyone would argue with that, having seen how bad things can get." Diana said.

"Who's side are you on?" Asked Tom, growing irritable.

"I'm just pointing out the other side to the story." She snapped.

"Diana's right, we've got to look at this from all angles." Nina said, raising her hands. "Look," she sighed, "does anyone have anything, anything at all?"

Tom tapped his pen against the large, oak table. "I think we should keep an eye on Collier. I'm not convinced at the act he's putting on. Do you really think a man with his ambition, and connections, would just let something like this run its course?"

"Not as easy as it sounds. If they caught on that they were under surveillance, we might get slapped for invasion of privacy. After all, we don't have any grounds. We don't want another debacle like the one we had a month ago." A sudden wave of silence hit the room. "Where are we with the Mercantile Bank robbery?"

"Nowhere. We're convinced it's the work of the 4400, the Elite would be our best guess. But whoever was involved was a pro; we've got nothing but a melted steel door and some concrete. No prints, no CCTV footage, no eyewitnesses... We can only speculate." Tom answered.

"I'm not happy people. We're being made to look like bungling idiots, ten steps behind all of the 4400, and tripping over our own feet." Nina leaned, forearms on the desk. "Your top priority, is to find the Elite headquarters. Put a tag on Collier... and Shawn Farrell." She said, looking to Tom. He nodded, knowing the deceit was necessary. "Dismissed."

888

"How was work, mom?" Maia asked as Diana braided her hair at the kitchen counter.

"Tough, which it seems to be more and more often." She answered. The night had been just what she needed: downtime with her family, a good meal, and a DVD of Spirited Away, which by April's suggestion, would be great for all of them. Dinner was over, but it was a feast to say the least; she had to applaud her sister's culinary prowess. As they sat in the kitchen, all that remained was the packing of the dishwasher, which April had volunteered to do as long as she had company.

"Yeah, well, I don't agree with what NTAC is up to." April said. "I mean, you guys are treating the 4400 like criminals."

"They could be potential criminals." Diana shot.

"Oh please, everyone is a potential criminal. The 4400 just happen to have other, abilities." April winked at Maia, who smiled in turn. "Way I see it, live an' let live."

Diana shook her head, almost done with Maia's plait. "Good thing you're the only one who sees it that way." She sighed, dropping the golden braid.

"I'm glad," Maia said, raising her voice above April's soon-to-come retort, "I'm glad that, even if NTAC might not like the 4400, there's someone who cares, working for them. Like you." She kissed her mother on the cheek, then bounded through to the lounge.

April closed up the dishwasher, and set her arms across her chest. The sisters were quiet, both finding Maia too damn smart for her age. "The munchkin's right you know." She said finally, walking around to her sister. "As far as I'm concerned, NTAC's only saving grace, is having a gem like you in their ranks."

"Thank you." Diana smiled, the moment of sincerity felt by both. She took the DVD case from the table, and handed it to April. "You get this going, and I'll start on the popcorn." She moved to the microwave as April left, and tossed in a packet of popcorn. She couldn't suppress her smile as she watched April tackle Maia, tickling her until her squeals became no more than gulps of air. The scene was almost complete... almost. She couldn't help but feel as though there was one person missing...

"M.. M... Mom!" Maia squealed. "Help!"

Diana shook her head as she laughed, removing the popcorn from the microwave. "You've got it, sweetheart." She called, making her way into the lounge.

888

He'd stayed late at the office, his partner waving goodbye to him hours before he'd made the move home himself. It was his gift and his curse; a staunch... obsessive work ethic. Tom threw his coat on the couch, dropped his keys on the side table, and left his shoes just next to it. The house was dark, though the beams from the street lights filtered in from the far windows. He rolled his neck as he made his was upstairs; stealth so much a part of him that he no longer noticed it seep into an act so simple. Kyle's room was his first stop, not just this night, but every night since his recovery from his coma. He'd never tell him though, it was something private, that was his and his alone. He opened his son's room door and stepped in, watching the form turn and sprawl limbs in every direction. He smiled, noting the sock that hung just barely on Kyle's toe, and the intermittent sounds of light snoring.

He'd seen him sleep, just sleep, for over a year, but it wasn't the same. There had been no life in that confined pose, laced with needles, hooked up to machinery, and monitored twenty-four hours a day. This was the Kyle he knew; his son, his flesh and blood. How could he explain the pain he felt when they fought, the feeling of absolute failure as his son bore a single emotion of hate in his eyes. Kyle thought he didn't care, didn't love him enough, but it was the opposite. He loved him too much, so much so that his need to keep him safe and protect him threatened to destroy their relationship. Tom sunk to the ground, back against the wall. All that he did was for him, and while he didn't know how to be the perfect father, he knew how to be the perfect soldier; he would use the later to strengthen the first. He agreed with himself, and crawled over to Kyle's bed.

"I am proud of you," he whispered, "every, single, minute of my life." Tom smoothed back the section of hair covering Kyle's forehead, and kissed him there. With that, he left, closing the door softly behind him. His next move was to the kitchen, or more precisely, the fridge. He needed the cold water to put his thirst at ease as he resigned himself to one last look at his notes of the case files of the robbery. He turned the TV on, sinking into the couch and taking the overstuffed notepad from its wresting place.

"The convention on 'the 4400 and their impact on society', held at the Four Seasons Hotel, came to end today, unmarred by any violent attempts on the attendants. Concerns rose as to the safety of all involved, resulting in an unprecedented assembly of security equipment and personnel..."

Tom rubbed his eyes, the news anchor's voice fading into the back of his mind. He needed to figure this case out; his annoyance at the lack of progress was eating away at him. There had to be something he was missing, something that he just wasn't seeing. His cellphone vibrated, and he fidgeted for a moment, trying to find it somewhere in his jacket pocket. "Baldwin." He answered. "You've got something for me?" After a moment. "I'm on my way."

888

Shawn knocked on Jordan's office door, sliding his head in through the just open crack in the door. "Jordan, I'm uh, gonna turn in." He said, trying not to disrupt the man too much.

"Before you do, would you mind taking a seat." Collier asked, setting down his work and leaning back. "Things have been so hectic around here, it's been a while since we've had time to just talk." Shawn nodded, sitting down. "So, you okay?"

"Yeah, not sure why everyone keeps asking me that though." He laughed, clasping his hands in from of him.

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "Who else has asked you?"

"You know, just people." He answered. "What about you? How're things going with, the situation?"

They both knew what, the situation, was. "I think we might have a real problem on our hands." He said, running his index finger across his lips. "I actually wanted to talk to you about taking over the projects which I need to delegate, if you don't mind."

Shawn sat up slightly. "Of course, not a problem."

"With everything that's happening, I need to focus the bulk of my attention on this, group, the Elite. I would like to find a way to work with them, if it's at all possible, but I doubt that they'll be open to the idea. Barring that, we need to at least know what we're dealing with, and put a face to our opponents." He smiled, lifting two slender tickets from his shirt pocket. "But before all that, this is for you." He handed them to him. "Courtside to the Sonics versus the Lakers. It's not much but I figured you could use the downtime."

The young man tapped the tickets over his fingers. "You gonna join me?" He asked, grinning.

"I can't." Shawn masked his disappointment well, so well in fact, that Jordan failed to see it. "I need to sort things out, and I can't afford to skip a day or night." He rounded the desk. "I know that things are tough. This may not be the life you dreamed of, or the life you want, but it is the life you have. You're needed now, by myself and others. Take the time off, at least until the end of the week, and come back ready."

"Yes, sir." Shawn joked as he stood, bringing his hand into a salute.

"You know I would if I could." Jordan said seriously, looking down at the tickets. He embraced him, patting him on the back before they parted.

888

A visibly shaken, older man, fell to his knees, courtesy of the Asian man who stood behind him. He looked up slowly, taking in the wooden walls of the office which he had been brought to. Opulence would best encompass the feel of the room. Thick, white carpeting decorated the floor; four flat screens mounted the wall, each with a different news station; long crimson curtains hung from the high windows, and there appeared to be a fairly large private library upstairs. But he wasn't all to concerned with investigating the scenery. The only thing of interest to him, was the woman standing directly ahead, delicate features unflinching in light of current events.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Hicket." Anäis said, smiling, sitting casually on the edge of the large desk.

"Yeah." He said, politely. He hadn't really had a choice in the matter.

"I assume you know why I asked you here?" Though she sounded mostly American, a slight accent could be heard. She received no more than a flicker in his eyes, as her response. "You were not to divulge the location of this safe house, to anybody. And yet, I am told, that you were to meet with an agent from NTAC later this evening. Am I correct?"

He shook his head. "It wasn't like that. I was set up! Some guy I know's been leaking information to NTAC, he's the one who set up the meeting, not me."

"I know that you are aware of how important it is for us to keep this place away from those that would try to harm us. So the question must become: 'why some guy you knew' was aware of our involvement?" She stalked toward him and knelt, lifting his chin with a slender finger. "I like you, Garret, so I'm not going to take this as far as I should. Your expertise are valued here with us. Take this as your first, and last warning: if you let slip, anything about us and your employment with us, you will not live to say much more." He nodded feverishly. "Go." He needed no more than that. Though his legs were about to give way beneath him, he stood and rushed out.

"That easy, huh?" The man that had brought Hicket in, shrugged.

She walked up to him. "It will not serve our purpose to kill him. NTAC will only see it as a solidification of their suspicions that we are not 'the good guys'." He nodded, and turned to leave. She grabbed his arm. "But, could you do me a favour, Jin?" The veil she'd placed over her accent dropped, and her smile evoked a slew of indecent thoughts.

Jin returned the gesture, moving in close. "Anything for you, beautiful."

"Follow him, and break his jaw. He should be made fully aware of the weaknesses of his loose lips." Though the words were menacing, the delivery was intoxicatingly pleasant to his ears.

"Done." He winked at her, and strode out, not phased by the request.

"Should I be afraid, Anäis?" A deep voice asked, coming from the library upstairs. A familiar male figure stepped out, descending as she closed the doors. He ran a hand through his black hair, finding that it might just be time for a cut. "It seems you are mastering more than just the powers given to you from the future." Walking to her, he planted a kiss on her hair.

"That's why you put me here, is it not, Michael?" She asked.

He cocked his head to the side, smiling finally. "Yes it is." His blue eyes smiled in turn. "Still, I never would've imagined how adept you've become at manipulation. I wonder whether you're deceiving me at this very moment."

"No, I would never. Besides, you know me too well not to realise if I would." She seemed hurt by the statement. "You've been my savior and my friend, and I would not be here if it were not for you. Anything you ask of me, I will do."

"I know, why do you think I put you in charge? You're the head of the Elite, and you'll remain that way." He moved to the screens, caught by one of the news reports. "I know that I can rely on you to get things done. I need to have someone that I can count on, especially now." Michael turned to her. "I've already set events in motion, and it's time you knew where I want to take things." She waited for him to continue. "Power, Anäis, and not just of the individual 4400, but political power. You, all of you, will be the driving force I need to secure it. Once the 4400 affirm themselves politically, the sky's the limit."

She thought on it, looking up to the screen as she did. "That might be difficult." That much was obvious.

He sighed. "Especially with Jordan being the poster boy of the 4400." He chewed on his lower lip, watching Collier's face on screen. "You know, I always thought my brother should get rid of that stupid beard."


To Be Continued...

A/n: I wanted to use this first chapter to establish the status of all the relationships before I dug into any action. I also tried to steer away from making things too 'fluffy'. This is my second 4400 fic, and a serial following "You never can be too sure these days". Feedback, though not necessary, is greatly appreciated!