Disclaimer: The Tomorrow People is the property of the CW. No Copyright Infringement is intended.
~ X ~
Dialogue in italics indicates thought
Dialogue in quotes and italics indicates mental communication.
~ X ~
John prowled the streets of Manhattan. He had abruptly teleported out of headquarters after making a fuss over something he now couldn't even remember. The looks on the other agents' faces would have been comical if John hadn't been so upset. His brain felt like a sheep being herded by a particularly vigilant sheep dog. Something kept barking and snapping and lunging at him, giving him no rest, driving his mind in a direction he wasn't sure he wanted to go.
The problem had started almost a week ago as a tiny sense of restlessness, an unspecified foreboding. It had grown progressively stronger, blossoming into full blown distress, and John's temper had correspondingly deteriorated. He had been irritable, snapping at his co-workers without provocation.
Jedikiah had taxed him with it, and he had owned up to something being wrong.
"I don't know what's the matter with me," he had confessed, using the heel of his hand to brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead. He looked and felt miserable.
Jedikiah had appeared thoughtful, weighing his words carefully, before hesitantly deciding to admit, "You're approaching the anniversary of the day when the Founder stripped your powers."
"But that was four years ago!" John protested. "Why now?"
Jedikiah, face revealing nothing, looked back down at his laptop, brusquely saying, "I have no idea why."
John tried to read him, but his boss's mind was locked down, doggedly focused on the latest TP law breaker they were tracking.
Over the next several days John would catch Jedikiah out of the corner of his eye, staring at him with a worried expression. When confronted, Jedikiah denied watching him, insisting John was imagining things.
Now anxiety weighed heavy on his stomach, making him wish he could vomit and rid himself of the burden.
He finally gave into a nagging urge and teleported without making a conscious choice. He wasn't greatly surprised when he landed in the shadow of the old Ultra building. He stared, head craned back, the sight both attracting and repelling him. The best and worst years of his life had been spent inside these walls. He surrendered his will, allowing his subconscious mind to once again take control.
The lights in the room where he landed were on sensors and lit up as he moved. His eyes flickered around, taking in everything at once. The dark gray gun metal wall and ceiling coverings with the molded, fluted channels were still here. A different branch of the government had occupied this building for close to four years now. Apparently the paneling was left as a precaution against his kind, not that it had any demonstrable effect on him. Rows of standard issue desks, chairs, and laptops, typical of a government bullpen, filled the room. He was drawn to an area close to the center of the room.
He was fascinated and terrified to be here. An image flashed in his mind. A young blonde man, bearded and scruffy, unknown, but at the same time strangely familiar, screamed in agony. The flash was brief but horrific. He put a hand out as another scene burst into his mind, strangely compelled to reach for it. But it was like reaching for a three D image in a movie; his hand went through it. He heard echoes of voices, but they were strangely garbled, and the harder he tried to hear them the fainter they became.
Sweat beads broke out on his forehead as the face of a black bearded men floated menacing close to him. Suddenly his tie was choking him, and he stuck a finger beneath it, loosening it and then popping the collar button of his dress shirt.
His chest heaved as he fought against the panic induced by the visions.
Three of his fellow agents burst through the door without warning. One of them called out his name.
John, still in the throes of semi hysteria, reacted instinctively, telekinetically shoving them hard. He turned and was gone.
"Damn!" An agent groaned, following it up with a string of obscenities.
One of the men had flipped over a desk, landing in a disheveled heap against the wall. He clumsily worked his way up to his hands and knees, dazed and shaking his head.
Another got up and immediately screamed as he put weight on a broken ankle.
The foul mouthed agent pushed himself off the cabinet he had been splayed against and slowly, deliberately straightened his suit jacket. He sent a message back to headquarters. "Lost him."
He grimaced when his contact eventually responded. "The boss is not happy."
The agent helped the dazed man up and addressed his comrades. "Let's get back to headquarters and face the music. Excuses are not going to be well received."
The agent standing on one foot complained. "He's so frigging strong. What does the boss expect from us?"
"Why don't you ask Dr. Price that question? I got twenty bucks says he strips your powers on the spot."
"Point taken," said the agent with the broken ankle. "Think I'll keep my mouth shut and take the tongue lashing."
John was angry and confused. He regretted attacking his teammates, while at the same time he felt suffocated, strong emotion rendering him barely able to breathe. Why are they crowding me!
He needed time and space to make some kind of sense out of what was happening to him.
He walked, concentrating strictly on the motion of his legs, allowing the physical exertion to occupy and calm his mind. He had no idea where he was going, and when he finally stopped to rest he was near a subway entrance. He never came to this area of town unless he was on a chase, and then it was an in and out. Once the legendary John Young joined the pursuit the hunt did not last long.
He paused at the top of stairs leading down to the station before giving in to the impulse to enter. When he reached the turnstile he vaulted over it instead of using his metro card. His action amused him no end. All agents stationed in the city were issued monthly cards for the subway and buses. He had no need to cheat the system, but it just seemed like the right thing to do. He strode to the end of the platform, down to where a gate prevented passengers from going any further. He didn't have long to wait before the next train came. He hopped on the last car, empty at this time of the day.
He sat mesmerized by the signs flashing by. By rights he shouldn't recognize these stops, but at the same time –– there was something poking at the edge of his brain. Something just out of his reach, but prodding him nevertheless. Anticipation grew as he passed each stop, causing butterflies to flutter in his stomach. The tension became almost unbearable when he saw the sign 'Fleet St'.
He stood, closing his eyes, giving his subconscious free rein and he –– was in a dank, cold, obviously abandoned station. The wide open area he landed in was lit by a few dim fluorescent bulbs. He turned a slow circle wondering where he was. The rumble of a train passing overhead sounded far away, so he assumed he must be down pretty deep.
Furniture was scattered around indicating that at one time people must have sheltered here. He walked over to low tables where games boards were still laid out; everything covered in dust and grime and rat droppings. The chairs and sofas had stuffing peeking out of holes chewed in the fabric. Small animals and some not so small skittered away into the shadows as he passed.
He wandered slowly into other areas. An enclosed area, resembling a boxing ring, stopped him in his tracks. Phantom images flashed through his mind; figures sparring. He couldn't make out any details, but the blonde haired, bearded man that he had visualized at Ultra was back. His opponent was a trim dark haired girl, but her face wasn't clear.
Who is he? Who is she? Why do I think I should know them?
He concentrated, which only had the effect of scattering the images like dust motes in the sunlight.
He shook his head, annoyed that the figures wouldn't sharpen into focus. He left the area only to discover additional evidence that someone had lived here. Tattered, moldy shower curtains pushed to one side revealed rusty shower fixtures leaking tiny rivulets of brown, foul smelling water. Various alcoves held beds and small bureaus, some left with drawers open. He seemed to instinctively know where the light switches were located, turning them on as needed. Some bulbs flickered on, while others burnt out. He carefully turned off each switch when he left a room.
He almost walked by one room, but stopped and retraced his steps to stand in the doorway. The bed was neatly made, though covered with a thick layer of dust. There was something positioned in the center of the pillows; a dim pool of light from an overhead fluorescent lamp shining on it. It resembled nothing so much as a stage set designed to focus your attention on the –– Stuffed animal?
His hand reached, found, and flicked on a light switch as he entered the room.
He looked closely at the bed. There was an outline on one edge, as if in the past someone had brushed it off to sit there. He moved closer, waving a hand to clear the area in the outline. He sat on the edge of the bed, wondering who had sat here before him.
Who came here? Did they know the people who lived here? Were they as confused as I am?
He finally twisted his body, turning his attention to the toy that had attracted him in the first place. He picked it up, realizing it wasn't as thickly coated as everything else; as if it had been cleaned off at one time. He shook it, sneezing as dust filled the air.
A beaver?
The cheap, ratty, rather ugly thing puzzled him. This wasn't a child's room, so this stuffed animal belonged to an adult. The position of honor on the center of the bed, the lighting arranged to showcase it, all meant someone treasured it.
He thought about the mementos he kept. He carried a pocket knife Jedikiah had given him and wore a battered old wrist watch from Roger. They were not inherently valuable, but he wouldn't have parted with them for the world.
Who had owned this pathetic little stuffed beaver?
Who gave it to them?
Was it a token from a lover?
If it meant that much to someone why was it left behind?
Why did he care?
He held the toy in his lap with both hands, gazing down at it. Suddenly he had to blink back tears. Why did this silly stuffed animal leave him feeling so hollow and weak? So sad? Was it was the realization that the owner had been forced to leave it behind? Why did this silly toy hold so much power over him? He felt so incomplete, so empty.
His head snapped up as he felt the mental signatures of two of his team members teleporting in. Why can't they trust me to come back when I'm ready?
He tenderly replaced the stuffed beaver back in the center of the pillows and turned off the lights before leaving.
A man and woman rushed into the room, so close to catching him that the breeze from his departure blew in their faces.
"Noooo!" the woman screamed, while the man pounded his fist on the wall.
"Are you gonna tell him we let his number one agent slip through our fingers?" the man asked, putting special emphasis on the 'him'.
The woman turned, leaning against the wall, arms folded. A frown crossed her face. "The boss is gonna go ballistic."
They looked at each other. "Let's toss a coin. Loser has to report in."
John ended up on a passing subway train.
The next compulsion hit him when the metro approached a middle class, working neighborhood. He got off the next stop, taking the stairs down from the overhead train.
Across the street was a small house. He watched as a young mother with a stroller came out. He didn't know her, but the house intrigued him. He teleported in, as soon as she turned the street corner, landing in the front hall of the house. The furniture stirred no recollections in him, but as he turned to leave he saw a kitchen bar, built to eat at. A ghostly shadow of the blonde haired man moved, speaking to the hazy outline of a dark haired teen. Something was at the edge of his consciousness when he heard movement upstairs and left.
He ended up walking the streets, turning corners at random, sometimes teleporting when the mood struck him.
Hours later, he stopped outside a shabby, neighborhood restaurant. The Noodle House appealed to him for some reason. He smirked when he walked inside. Good thing Jed isn't here. He'd be appalled by this place.
His eyes roamed over the interior, settling on a curly haired figure sitting on a stool at the bar. She slowly turned, almost as if she felt his eyes on her. He knew she recognized him from the way her eyes opened wide. A fleeting expression crossed her face so quickly John wasn't sure he really saw it.
Sad? Disappointed?
Her hair was pinned up, but as he watched she pulled out the pins and shook her head so that the long dark curls framed her face. Her beautiful brown eyes held his the entire time.
He was mesmerized by the sight.
She started to sing softly, as she turned on her seat to once again face the back wall. "I will be Queen. You—You will be King."
The melody, the words, the voice reverberated in John's mind. He felt something moving deep within him. It came alive, slowly uncoiling from where it lay dormant. Pushing against the cage holding it in.
He walked over to the counter, pausing next to the young woman just crossing over the threshold from girlhood. "Mind if I sit here?"
The girl frankly eyed him up and down, the ghost of a smile lighting up her face, making him long to see her laugh. "I normally don't let trolls sit next to me, but I'll make an exception for you."
His initial shock was followed by a laughing protest as he slid onto the stool next to her. "I am not a troll! Girls like me."
It felt good to laugh. It had been over a week now, and it quelled the nauseous feeling he was experiencing.
She matched his smile with an even broader one before seriously asking, "So are you a lifer or do you just creep around?"
A shadow passed over his face. "I've been steady with a few, but . . ."
As his voice trailed off, she spoke with conviction. "Even with the ones you feel something for you call it off. Something stops you. You can't feel them up here."
She tapped his forehead with her pointer finger. "They don't fill that empty space in your mind."
"Yeah, you're–– " He stopped as the significance of what she said dawned on him. "Wait. How do you know––?" He stopped again, uncertain if she really knew or was just making an analogy.
A wry smile on her face, she said, "I know exactly what you are. I know all about the Tomorrow People."
Conflicting emotions swirled within him, but the first words out of his mouth were, "Do you know me?"
"I do. But not like you are now." She was solemn. "I'm familiar with the three T's. I love to teleport, but I do not like having my thoughts read without my permission. Promise me you'll respect my wishes."
He said, "I will, but how do you know I won't cheat?"
"Because I know you. I know the person you are. Were."
He nodded, and she took one of his hands, clasping it in hers. She concentrated, bringing up images of the John she had known.
He looked stricken. "I've seen him before. Flashes of him. He can't be me."
Astrid released his hand. "It is you."
She got up, pulling on his arm. He yielded to the pressure and stood, leaning back, squinting at her.
It brought a genuine smile to her lips. "I love when you look at me like that."
He smiled back and followed her out of the Noodle House.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"To my house, and while we walk you're going to tell me every place you went today and what you saw and how you felt."
"But I want to know––" He was interrupted by her clutching his arm.
"I promise I will tell you what you want to know, but first I need you to tell me about today. It's important, John."
He felt her sincerity and gave in to her wishes. He started talking, and once he started it was like a dam broke in him. He told her about his visit to Ultra and the underground subway station. Words tumbled out of his mouth as he told her of the places he had visited. Places he was drawn to without any idea why. He talked of teleporting and landing in sewers and storage rooms.
"Hey!" he said at one point. "It might have been y––"
She interrupted him constantly, pummeling him with questions, drilling for details.
"What did you do or see that triggered the images in your mind? Was it an object? A smell? A sound?"
"Did agents find you there? How much time did you have before they came?"
"How did you feel? Did you remember anything?"
"What images were strongest?"
It was a relief to pour out his fears and doubts. By the time they reached her house he was exhausted.
She turned on the lights and motioned him to a chair. She sat in another, pulling out her phone and quickly typing.
"Your turn now," he said leaning forward, hands anxiously clasped. "You promised."
Both looked up at as a quick rap sounded on the front door and it slowly opened. A trench coat clad Jedikiah walked in. "Hey there!"
John started, jumping up.
Jedikiah stopped in his tracks. "Come on, John. It's me." Catching the flicker of John's eyes towards Astrid, he calmly said, "Hello, Astrid. S'been a while."
Astrid gave a curt nod of her head, her expression sphinx like.
Jedikiah put his hands in his pockets, then made a face, as John started like a nervous colt, ready to race away. "Is it really like that? Here, I'll bring my hands out of my pockets. Slowly." He suited his actions to his word, but looked disappointed. "So when did you stop trusting me, John? When did I become the enemy? What are you doing, running around, knocking out your team members? What's going on?"
John nervously wet his lips. He probed, but was unable to read anything from Jedikiah, but honest perplexity. "I don't know what's happening to me, Jed!" He swallowed. "I'm seeing things. Feeling things. Things that come out of nowhere." He implored, "Am I going crazy? I can't keep doing this."
"Then don't. Come with me. We can resolve this."
John hesitated while trying to read Astrid's mind.
One times one equals one. Two times two equals four. Three times three equals nine.
Her deliberate blocking attempt confused him.
Jedikiah spoke softly. "It all comes down to a matter of trust, John. Is it going to be me, the person who has always been there for you, or someone you don't quite remember from the past? This is triggered by the trauma of the Founder taking your powers. It's PTSD. How do you know she didn't work with him? He had plenty of human agents."
"Were you one of his agents?" John asked Astrid, before turning to his boss. "Is she one of your agents?"
Jedikiah shook his head. "I'm not going to play this game with you. I don't have to defend myself. I have nothing to prove. I took you from that rat hole you were living in and raised you. Taught you everything you know. We've worked together the four years since your powers were taken." Jedikiah pounded his chest with his fist. "I gave you my brother's powers. Gave you my blood. And now you doubt me?" Jedikiah looked hurt.
John sighed noisily, expelling air through his nose. He slowly, hesitantly moved a foot forward.
Jedikiah opened his arms wide. "Come here, son."
John gratefully moved into his embrace, wanting, hoping to find the peace and comfort that he craved.
The needle barely stung as it plunged into his neck.
John jerked back in shock, but Jedikiah's grip was strong enough to hold him. He murmured, "It's okay, John. Don't be afraid."
John held his mentor's eyes as he lost consciousness. Jedikiah continued to reassure him. "It's okay, son."
Jedikiah muscled the young man over to the sofa and laid his upper body carefully down before releasing him and hoisting his legs up on the sofa. He gazed down at him for a moment before bending over and brushing the blonde head with his lips.
He straightened, reaching into his inner coat pocket and pulling out a stuffed unmarked envelope.
A bitter smile twisted Astrid's lips. "Ah, yes. The Judas money."
"You earned it. It was part of our agreement. You need it, especially now." He placed the money on a nearby table before gruffly adding, "Sorry to hear about your parents. That was tough losing both of them. And to a drunk driver, no less."
She raised her head now to stare at him. "How can you do this to someone you love? He has gone through this hell four times now. Yet you keep letting it happen." Her bewilderment showed on her face. She lowered her voice, her desire to understand evident. "How can you do this to him?"
Jedikiah regarded her for a moment before sitting in another armchair across from her. She was surprised, not really believing he would answer her.
What she hadn't counted on was that Jedikiah welcomed the chance to unburden himself to someone who could not threaten him. The chance to explain his side of the story loosened his tightly controlled tongue. "He is my family––the last of––"
Astrid interrupted him. "You have a son. You have a wife. They're your family too."
He leaned towards her, his voice intent, willing her to understand. "They're my new family and I love them. But, John. John is my original family. He carries my brother in him. He is the boy I raised as my son. He is the first born of my heart. My pride and joy. My brother will live on through him and his children."
Jedikiah leaned back in the chair. "I – will – not – lose – him. Not to anyone."
Astrid gave an unamused little laugh. "So, that's why I'm still alive."
"I don't understand what you mean." Jedikiah was wary now.
Astrid smile was twisted. "Of course, the others are dead." The look on his face made her elaborate. "Oh, you may not have pulled the trigger, but you certainly ordered it."
Jedikiah's face was inscrutable, revealing nothing of his thoughts. "Just because people went on with their lives and left you behind doesn't mean they're dead."
Astrid tapped her fingers on the chair arm. "Cara would have never left John behind. Not in a million years. Maybe not even for those powers that she loved so much."
"Did you ever think that maybe she and Stephen decided to give it all up for love and run away?" Jedikiah eyed her, waiting for her reaction.
"If Stephen was alive, he would contact me."
As Jedikiah opened his mouth, he met Astrid's look and gave up trying to convince her.
She nodded knowingly. "You didn't have me killed because John will always eventually find me. I'm your failsafe option. If you can't catch him anywhere else, as a last resort you could let him get to me, and I would turn him over to you. You're a cruel man, Dr. Jedikiah Price. Four times I've had to go through this. Each time you said it would never happen again. That he would be under control." She paused and her tone was bitter. "You promised me that he was happy."
"Lehrman will answer for this failure." Jedikiah's grim voice did not bode well for the doctor's future.
His voice changed as he stared at John. "And he is happy. We work together. Spend our time off together. He has dinner every Sunday with Morgan and little Roger. He's a great big brother. When I can't be there for my little boy, John is. He's my second in command. He'll take over when I'm gone."
He shifted his gaze to Astrid. "My will is in his favor. I know he'll take care of Morgan and our children."
Astrid looked skeptical. "So John and I talked. How come he doesn't have a steady girlfriend? Most guys his age are married."
Jedikiah shifted uncomfortably. "He hasn't met the right girl yet."
"Because something keeps nagging at him. Telling him it's not right. That something is missing."
Jedikiah looked dangerous now, and Astrid feared she had pushed too hard. "It's none of your business, Astrid. Be smart. Take the money and stay out of this."
Jedikiah reached in a breast pocket and flipped out a phone. The call was brief. "Come on in."
The door opened within seconds of him disconnecting, and three people whose clothes screamed 'agent' entered. "Take him."
Between them they supported John and hustled him out the door.
Jedikiah trailed them. As he prepared to leave, he locked the door, saying, "I'm sorry. This won't happen again. Believe it or not, I do know how painful it must be for you. It hurts me to see him like this too."
He waited, but she didn't answer, and he left, gently closing the door. She heard the knob rattle as he tested to make sure it was really locked.
Astrid sat in the chair for a long time, staring straight ahead, but her eyes weren't focused. She didn't know if minutes or hours had passed before she sat up straight.
She stood and walked over to the table where Jedikiah left the envelope. She picked it up and fingered through the bills, nodding thoughtfully. If Jedikiah could have seen the grim determination on her face, he would have been seriously concerned. She spoke to the empty room.
"I promise you, John, I'll be ready next time. Because there will be a next time. I thought Jedikiah would win out, but I know now he will never keep you down. You're too strong. You'll keep fighting to remember. I had my mother and father to protect before. They're beyond Jedikiah's reach now. It's only me."
She looked at the bills again. "I saved most of the money from the last three years and now with this latest––I know exactly what to do and next time we will both get free. I owe it not just to us, but to them. Cara and Stephen would have wanted it."
She gave a little laugh. "Cara would be so disappointed in me if I didn't try."
She flung her head up, eyes blazing. "I promise you, John. You will know who you are."
~ FIN ~