Legacy of a Lifetime
Author: fantasymonk
Fourth installment in my AU Legacy series of fics- Beginning of a Legacy, The Legacy Left Behind, Legacy of Love, and Legacy of a Lifetime
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Alan sat behind his desk, typing on his laptop while the minutes ticked down to the end of his work day. Encom had been very quiet lately, and its chairman wasn't complaining, glad to have plenty of spare time for a change. Sam had been hit with the flu bug, and Alan had been staying at his apartment to help take care of him while he recovered. The first few days were pretty routine, since the younger man had been downright miserable. But after a doctor's visit and some medicine, Sam was feeling better and more restless with each passing day, and with that restlessness came an increasing romantic bent. Alan was beginning to feel like he was dating Manny the Masher. He chuckled out loud at that thought, fingers stilling on the keyboard. Who'd have thought someone like him would have to be deflecting advances from an amorous young man? Well, when Sam got fully better, Alan would make it up to him. In the meantime life, and work, waited for no man. The sound of typing filled his otherwise quiet office until his work phone rang. Alan picked it up and slid his finger across the screen to answer the call, absently looking over his last sentence while he responded.
"Bradley."
"It's good to know this number hasn't changed, Alan." At that amused voice, the silver head came up, back straightening, eyes wide behind his glasses.
"My God, Vivian, is that you?" She laughed, warm and sweet.
"Yep, it's me. I was in the area and wanted to see if you were free to maybe meet for supper, do a little catching up." The thought was very appealing, but Sam would be expecting him for their evening meal. He could be a bit late, though, and send a text to let him know.
"I've got plans for supper, but I'd love to meet for some coffee or a drink, if you know a nice quiet place." She said she did and they made plans. Alan was beaming as he ended the call.
Not long after five o' clock, Alan walked into Delaney's, a small, upscale bar with a quiet atmosphere and good drinks. He glanced around the room and spotted Vivian seated at a small table with a glass of something on the rocks in front of her. The formerly long blonde locks had been tapered into an attractive bob, and she was dressed in a slim-cut feminine suit. She waved as he approached, her face brightening with a wide smile.
"Alan, hi! You look good!" He chuckled and took the seat across from her.
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Ms. Hale," came his teasing response. "You, however, do indeed look as lovely as ever." He was surprised when she turned very slightly pink.
"Well thank you, Alan. That means a lot." The arrival of a waiter halted the conversation as he took Alan's order for a black coffee. Encom's chairman turned back in time to see her raised eyebrow at his choice of drink, prompting a sudden urge to explain.
"I don't want to ruin my supper later. Besides, my, ah… date… is under the weather, and it wouldn't feel right to show up at anything less than one hundred percent." She nodded, smiling as she took a sip of her drink.
"You always were very thoughtful, Alan. So how are things? I saw on the news you were made Chairman of the Board. You must be over the moon, huh? I know I was very proud of you when I heard." His heart warmed at the fact that she still felt loyalty toward him, in spite of some years passing since she'd worked as his secretary.
"It does feel like a validation of my time served, so to speak," he confessed, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. She giggled softly.
"I'm sure you're kept busy, with all the programs and products Encom has been turning out." Alan nodded, blowing on his coffee before taking a drink of the hot brew.
"Most weeks, yeah. It hasn't been so bad lately, which is a nice break. We recently finished a new security program that I'm pretty proud of. Just needs a bit of fine tuning before we announce it properly."
"Oh, how exciting!" Vivian said, leaning forward. "Anything I would know about?" His silver head shook back and forth.
"No, development was started after you left. Although it is based on an old program I wrote years ago. Probably before you were born, actually. Which… is a very strange thought, now that I say it out loud." His sheepish grin made her laugh again.
"No need to fret, Alan. You're like a fine vintage that gets better with age." He grinned and ducked his head, the merest hint of a blush tinting his cheekbones.
"Ah, Vivian, you're a boost to my ego," Alan quipped, trying to cover up his pleased embarrassment. Sam always complimented him in such a way, but it was nicely validating coming from a lovely young woman, even if she was his friend and just being nice.
"Oh believe me, Alan, I'm only being truthful. You probably don't even know how many of the girls I worked with at Encom had little crushes on you." Hazel eyes blinked at her, their owner quite taken aback at the statement. A crooked smile quirked his lips, her former boss quite sure she was joking. Vivian caught the expression and stared, bemused. "You really didn't know, did you?" It was very sweet that he didn't realize how appealing he was, part of why she was drawn to him years ago. He was still very appealing, truth be told, although the attraction had mellowed nicely to a fond admiration. "If I were to be completely honest, I was one of those girls, myself." Her softly spoken words were so casually said that he almost missed their meaning. And then it hit him, bringing an adorably perplexed expression to his face.
"But you never… I mean I…" He took a breath, trying to gather his words together. "We were friends," he finally managed, still startled. She blushed slightly, sipping at the remnants of her drink.
"Yes, we were, and still are, very good friends. But I was very attracted to you back then, Alan. I admired you so much, for your kindness and loyalty." Vivian lowered her gaze a bit. "That's why I decided to leave Encom, I needed to distance myself and gain some perspective. Sam made me realize that." Alan's lips rounded in an expression of realization.
"That's why…?" He shook his head. How strange to learn after the fact that he'd been the object of someone's silent affections. "I never knew." The wondering words made her laugh softly.
"I tried very hard not to be obvious. I could tell you really didn't see me that way, and probably never would. It was really humbling, let me tell you." At his concerned expression she hurried to reassure him. "Oh no, Alan, it's all right. I've… well, not 'gotten over' you, per se, but I know now that it was akin to a schoolgirl crush. I'd made you my ideal, and you are a wonderful man. But it wasn't meant to be. And now I've found a wonderful man of my own who I love very much." It was then that Alan noticed the engagement ring that sparkled on her left hand, a smile building.
"Well congratulations Vivian, I'm very happy for you and your fiancée." He took her hand, admiring the ring and feeling pleased that his friend appeared happy in life. Her slender fingers squeezed his.
"Thanks Alan. This was one reason I wanted to meet with you, not only to see how you were doing, but to let you know how I was and to explain things a little. I hated not having the courage to do that before, when I left." The happiness faded from her eyes. "I hope you weren't too hard on Sam, he really did help me figure out the right thing to do." Alan knew better than to mention the almost-year-long estrangement he'd gone through with his godson because of the fight they'd had over Sam's involvement in her unexplained resignation. Instead, he smiled and released Vivian's fingers, patting the top of her hand.
"Things have worked out very well. In fact, we're closer now than when you were still working at Encom." He was definitely not going to tell her how close, though. His reassurances hit their mark at least, as Vivian perked up and smiled brightly again.
"I'm really glad to hear that. Oh!" She had glanced at her watch, setting her now-empty glass on the table. "You should probably be going, if you don't want to disappoint your date." She winked mischievously and stood up, with Alan rising as well. Vivian laughed softly as her silver-haired friend blushed a little at the mention of whoever was waiting for him. They shared a friendly hug before leaving the bar and parting ways.
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Sam perked up on the couch as the door to his apartment opened, allowing Alan and a large pizza inside. He watched with amusement as the older man juggled the box and his briefcase, fended off an excited Marvin with one foot, and managed to get the door shut again. Alan came up behind him, and his young lover raised his face up, hoping for a sweet meeting of lips, but instead received a gentle kiss to the top of his head. Sam wrinkled his nose with displeasure but said nothing for the moment, too hungry to complain about the lack of intimacy. For now, anyway.
"Welcome back Alan! Marv and I were beginning to think you'd left us to starve." He put on a woebegone expression, getting a laugh for his efforts. Sam's setup on the couch was an obvious indicator of multiple sick days, with a fleece blanket bunched up at one end, a trash can mostly full of tissues nearby, and medicine on the coffee table in front of him. He was wearing a soft cotton tee and sleep pants, legs stretched out in front of him with his sock-clad feet on the floor. Alan couldn't help smiling at the sight; he really liked the fact that Sam had allowed himself to be taken care of for once. It wasn't often he got to tend to his young man, and he'd been enjoying every minute. Well, when his rapidly-recovering lover wasn't intent on pursuing him, anyway.
"Believe me Sam, I've been thinking about you all day. Definitely more you than Marvin, at least," he teased, moving away to set the pizza box down on the small kitchen table. "As it happens, the reason I was late is because I got a call today and met up with an old friend. You'll probably never guess who." As he talked, Alan came back into the living room and removed his tie, draping it over the end of the couch and shrugging out of his suit jacket, the garment quickly joining the tie before their owner sat down next to Sam with a happy sigh. Sam turned in his seat, lounging sideways against the back of the couch with interest plain on his face. Alan smiled. "Turns out Vivian wanted to see me again. Imagine that." He glanced over at the younger man, watching what looked like a wince pass across the other's handsome face.
"Alan, I'm really so-" Alan put a hand on his arm, stopping the words.
"It's okay Sam. Vivian explained some things to me that she didn't before." His hazel eyes were filled with understanding. "She's doing very well, and she's happy. Besides, we've already gotten past this once." Gentle fingers brushed against Sam's cheek. "Now, let's eat before the pizza gets cold. Or Marvin figures out how to get up on the table, whichever comes first." He was rewarded with a relaxed and laughing Sam.
Their supper was nice, Alan reflected afterward. He'd told about his day and they'd joked and eaten the entire pizza, prompting the older man to bemoan the necessary extra miles he would have to jog. The evening ended on a sour note, sadly. As they'd headed upstairs to get ready for bed, once again Sam's obvious hope for a proper kiss had been denied. Alan felt badly about it, he did; he missed being close to Sam more than he could say. But he couldn't chance sharing his lover's space in a way that could pass on the flu to his more susceptible body. He sighed and watched Sam head up the stairs to the loft, following slowly behind.
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Sam lay curled on his side, elbow propped up on his pillow, palm cradling his cheek as he watched the door to the bathroom where Alan was brushing his teeth. His expression was a mix of hope and irritation, blue eyes locked on the place where the older man would appear. The sound of spitting and water running brought him to full alert, like a hunting dog going on point. Sam was tired of having the bed all to himself, without even so much as a proper kiss for close to a week, and his patience was wearing thin. So when Alan came out through the bathroom door all ready for bed, the younger man put on his most winning grin, causing one silver eyebrow to arch upward.
"Sam, I know what you're going to say, and the answer has to be no." Alan's voice was reluctant but firm as he walked over to the side of the bed opposite his lover, clad in the gray and scarlet plaid pajamas that Sam had gotten him the prior Christmas. Alan thought he looked silly, but Sam maintained they complemented his fair coloring and silver hair. The other's expression showed his irritation as the younger man put on a pout, flopping back onto the bed.
"But Alan, it's been a week, I'm pretty much one hundred percent! You can't say no this time. Come on, all I want is for you to hold me while I sleep." Blue eyes stared, wide and hopeful. "You did say you got your flu shot already, it's not too much to ask." Sam was trying to pull out all the guilt-trip low blows he could, knowing the other loved seeing him happy above all else. He sent a pleading look with the words, seeing Alan waver just slightly before shaking his head.
"Sam, as much as I'd love to, you'll just have to wait. In all honesty, at my age, I need to be careful." He gave a rueful grin. "The doctor said by tomorrow you should be able to go back to normal activities, that your body needs the extra rest. We'll have the weekend, I promise." The younger man huffed a sigh that sounded nothing short of total unhappiness.
"You're not old, Alan." Just hearing the subtle reference to their age difference had made Sam's stomach clench. He cast his gaze back up to the hazel eyes that looked down with gentle concern.
"Mm…" came the noncommittal response, although the older man's gaze showed his appreciation of the sentiment. "Regardless of that, you still need your rest. And I need to keep myself healthy while you get better. So as much as it would please me to share the bed, I'm going to head back downstairs and call it a night. Just be patient until I get off work tomorrow." Alan smiled and leaned over the mattress, patting one bed sheet-covered calf before disappearing down the stairs. Sam watched the stairway until the lights went out on the main floor, growling as he punched his pillow. It wasn't fair! Ugh, why did Alan have to be so damn practical…? Mutinous thoughts chased themselves around in his brain until he finally drifted off to sleep.
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Sam woke the next morning with his face half-buried in his pillow, wriggling around on the bed under the cozy covers. He could hear the shower running and Alan humming softly while he got ready for work. It made him angry all over again that his older lover seemed just fine with the unromantic relationship they'd been stuck in for the past week and a half, while Sam had reached the end of his rope a good three days ago. When Alan came out of the bathroom a short while later, freshly showered, shaved, and dressed, he was facing a very put out young man. Sam's mouth was turned down in a sulking frown, and it was obvious he was holding a bit of a grudge. Nevertheless Alan put on a smile and walked around to Sam's side of the bed, bending down with the intention of placing a chaste kiss on the top of the mussed blonde head. Sam responded by rolling over, his back to the older man. Alan suppressed a sigh, placing a hand between the other's shoulder blades. The muscles there were tense and unyielding, and got even more so at his touch.
"I'll see you after work Sam," he tried, waiting several heartbeats without receiving a response. "Well, then… I'll hurry home…" Alan remained unmoving by the bedside, just standing there, probably watching and hoping for some reaction. Sam could hear the unhappiness in that rumbling voice, but refused to soften his stance. He wanted Alan to feel as badly as he did, cut off from the close contact he craved. There was a soft sigh and then the older man finally walked away. The tapping of Alan's dress shoes faded down the stairs and then disappeared entirely as he left the converted storage unit, leaving Sam alone in the resulting silence.
Hours later he woke up again, having unintentionally fallen asleep while sulking. Feeling pretty much up to speed after his bout with the flu, he got cleaned up and dressed quickly. The rest of the day was spent checking through social media, puttering in the kitchen, and getting an update on the projects he was involved with at Encom. After thirty minutes of playing fetch with Marvin, Sam was ready to scream. He was so bored, and beginning to really look forward to Alan's return. There was also a stirring of guilt at how he'd acted when the older man was leaving for work. It probably wasn't smart to alienate his boyfriend right on the eve of his return to humanity… so to speak. Thankfully Alan was a very forgiving person. Sam spent some happy time coming up with ideas to make it up to him, ranging from calling out for supper to surprising him with a nice massage and cuddle session. As the end of the work day approached, Sam watched the clock closely from his living room couch while sharing a bowl of popcorn with Marvin, keeping an ear out for his phone's text alert sound. Alan was sure to let him know when he was heading home. The weekend loomed ahead, full of promise and anticipation.
When his phone did finally ring he snatched it up without bothering to check the caller ID, grinning as he spoke.
"Hey, it took you long enough! Usually you text, why the call?" There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. "Alan? Can you hear me?"
"Sam, it's me," came the soft response, and he jerked the phone away to stare at it briefly before putting on a cheery demeanor. Whoops. Thankfully he hadn't said anything incriminating.
"Oh, hey Steph! Sorry about that, I was expecting to hear from Alan. What's up?" Another few seconds of silence, and Sam began to wonder if something was on her mind. If he didn't get her off the phone soon, he might be late responding to Alan's text.
"Um, well… it's about Alan, actually." Sam might have forgotten to breathe for a couple of heartbeats. It took mere moments for his brain to come up with all kinds of medical scenarios for that hesitant tone, as if she was about to impart really bad news and didn't want to.
"What about him? Is he all right? Do I need to come there?"
"Sam… Sa-! Sam, stop!" She finally got her words over his, voice wavering just a little. "I… I honestly don't know. I hadn't seen him all day at work, but I figured he must have gotten busy and didn't really think anything of it. But then when I was leaving I saw his car in the garage. The doors weren't locked, but I saw his briefcase in the driver's seat and he wasn't anywhere around. Then I noticed his car keys on the garage floor. I got a little worried, and went back inside. Nobody remembers seeing him all day, not even Mrs. Tanner. It's like he just… vanished." Sam sat there, mouth gaping slightly. At first he was too shocked to really feel anything, but within moments he'd recovered enough to feel the beginnings of panic. The situation was eerily similar to his dad's sudden disappearance over twenty years earlier, but he fought back the rising emotion. Alan knew nothing of the Grid, and besides, his car was at Encom, not the old arcade. Something else was up, but what?
"Thanks for letting me know, Steph. Have you called the police yet?" Sam managed to keep his voice even, but his concern was clearly evident.
"Not yet, but I'm going to. Something's wrong…" He agreed, but didn't say anything, reluctant to voice the words out loud himself. "I'll keep you updated, okay? Stay near your phone."
"Yeah, I will. Thanks Steph…" He hung up, staring unseeing for a few minutes as his mind processed the conversation. Where the hell was Alan? And was he okay? Surely he hadn't been so upset with Sam because of that morning that he did something stupid… The thought was immediately discarded. No, that wasn't Alan's style. The man had held on through twenty years of criticism and power plays in Encom without so much as a whisper of hope that the elder Flynn would return. One morning's cold shoulder would barely scratch that level of tenacious loyalty. The possibility of foul play came to the forefront of Sam's mind, an equally unappealing concept in itself. Especially after the way he'd left things that very morning. He hadn't even allowed any kind of kiss, or said goodbye. God, what if… Sam sat there, barely noticing when Marv pushed at his hand for another piece of popcorn.
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Alan came to slowly, first awareness bringing the feel of something cool and solid underneath his cheek, the press of his glasses' earpiece against his temple, and the realization that he was lying down on his side. His eyes blinked open, squinting against the bright fluorescent lighting and a slight pounding in his head, coughing against a dry throat. Where was he? What had happened? The last thing he remembered was turning off the engine of his car and grabbing his briefcase before stepping out. Then strong arms grabbed him and something was pressed over his nose and mouth. Alan raised his torso up enough to get an elbow underneath his body, rubbing fingers over gritty eyes before allowing his glasses to fall back into place. From what he could see, the room he lay in was bare and windowless, with only a wooden chair, sink, and toilet. There were no pictures or any distinguishing marks on the walls, only stark white paint. The floor was some kind of office tile, and it was cold. He shivered and sat up more, only then noticing that his suit jacket was gone and nowhere to be seen.
"Hello?" he called out tentatively, then immediately regretted it. It was obvious he'd been taken somewhere against his will, of course he didn't want his captors coming in any sooner than they had to. And the slight echo that bounced off the barren walls made him feel even more alone. Getting his feet under him, Alan stood up and headed to the sink. A turn of the knob brought water, and he rinsed the bad taste out of his mouth before cupping his hand under the flow of liquid to get himself a drink. Well, wherever this was, someone was still paying for the utilities, and the water was fresh and clear. There were no towels available, so he settled for drying his hands on his navy dress slacks, then wiping his shirtsleeve over his mouth. Alan glanced at the door, head tilted slightly to one side. Was it locked? He walked over and tried the heavy brass handle, verifying that yes, it was definitely not going to open. How long had he been out? He looked down at his right wrist, frowning when he saw no sign of his watch. Damn it… That watch had been a present from Sam. The pang of loss settled in his stomach, although it paled in comparison to the sudden thought that he might never see Sam again. Long fingers scrubbed through silver hair in frustration and fear. He had no idea why he'd been brought here, where 'here' was, or who had taken him. Alan took in a slow breath and let it out, attempting to calm down. He'd been provided with ready access to water, so they were at least going to take care of him. No bed, he noticed, but at least he had some privacy.
Just as that consolation passed through his mind, the door swung open silently, adding credibility to the realization that this couldn't be an abandoned building if it was being maintained. A tall, broad man stepped through, muscles bulging in his arms and across his chest from underneath the pale blue polo shirt that struggled to contain them. He came a few steps into the room and then moved to the side. A slim woman came in from behind him, wearing tailored slacks and a feminine button up shirt and vest combo, her wavy brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. A very menacing gun was held in her right hand, the muzzle of which was pointed at their captive. Hazel eyes looked from one to the other. Well, he knew now whose arms he'd felt grabbing him from his car, at least. Although gaining the knowledge that he'd been carted around by the beefed up man wasn't really that comforting.
"Where am I? Who the hell are you?" he demanded, managing to force some authority into his voice in the face of that gun. The woman appeared neutral but pleasant, eyeing him with a detached kind of fascination. He felt like a newly discovered species being examined.
"Please relax, Mr. Bradley. For the moment, you are our guest." Her voice was low and soothing, a lovely sound, but Alan was in no mood to be placated. His eyes narrowed slightly with distrust, but she appeared to ignore it. Her dark gaze brightened, as if she'd just thought of some sudden revelation. "You know, you're taller than you appear in those press conferences. In fact, I think you're taller than my associate here, although his bulk makes him look bigger." Alan stared at her in mild disbelief; from her tone of voice, they could be making small talk at some social event instead of having a conversation in a cold room where he was being held captive.
"I…" This was ridiculous. "That's neither here nor there. What am I being held here for? Why did you bring me here?" His hazel eyes flashed, sparked by anger and the need for answers. The big man by her side took a step forward but she placed a hand on his arm to halt his progress. Apparently the brute had taken offense at his tone. Well tough. Alan hadn't backed down, even though he knew he couldn't take the other man, a fact which appeared to please the pretty half of the kidnapping duo.
"You're a very interesting man, Mr. Bradley. Older gentleman, businessman, esteemed executive, and yet you're challenging me verbally in spite of my very capable partner and the gun I'm currently holding on you. That makes you either very brave, or very foolish. And nothing I've heard about you suggests you are foolish." Alan was thoroughly confused, but he hadn't lost any of his frustration. He couldn't tell what to make of this woman who seemed so cultured and soft, but whose eyes were like looking into black granite: soulless and hard.
"What is it you want from me?" He barely kept the note of pleading from his tone, just hoping they would go away and give him relief from the strange non-conversation he was having with her. Trying to read her intentions was beginning to give him a headache.
"Nothing at all." She looked positively cheerful, and Alan felt slightly nauseous. It was like watching some perky cheerleader handing down a death sentence. "We're just being paid a handsome sum to get some information from you." The casually spoken words stunned him. It must be something pretty big to make it worth kidnapping him and holding him here.
"I'm not sure what your employer thinks I could tell you, bu-"
"Does the name 'Achilles' ring a bell?" The interruption caused him to cast a startled look in her direction. How did she even know about that? The new security program he'd been working on wasn't public knowledge yet, and only a handful of people at Encom even knew about it. In fact, it had been the last thing he and Sam had been tinkering with before the younger man had caught the flu. Alan tried to skirt the line between informative and truthful.
"I know the program, yes. But I fail to see wha-" He didn't get to finish the sentence before she cut him off again.
"From what we've seen, it's a very, very good security program. Highly marketable. Just like your Tron program was years ago, don't you think?" Alan was truly startled into silence. How did this woman even know so much about Achilles? And she was right, in any company's hands it could be a definite money-maker.
"If you know so much, then what do you need me for?" he asked, honestly puzzled. Why bother to kidnap him if they already had so much inside intelligence about their goal? She smiled pleasantly, the gun never wavering.
"We almost didn't need you. But we didn't anticipate you'd have the foresight to password protect the file itself; we haven't been able to crack it, and the deadline is looming. That's where you come in." Those obsidian-black eyes glittered with a vague imitation of life. "You're going to give us the password, and when you do, you'll be allowed to go free. Now…" She was all business. "Sit in that chair for Robert, please." Alan instinctively took a step back, away from them, and she frowned for the first time. "Don't make me ask you again. I have no problem with shooting a non-vital part of your body or getting Richard to persuade you." Alan gave a mental shudder, but he put on his best uncaring mask, honed from time spent pretending he hadn't been hurt or angered by company politics. Several halting steps took him toward the plain chair before he slowly lowered himself into the seat. The woman smiled automatically, as if that were all it took to being friends again. "Thank you Mr. Bradley. I prefer the nice approach. To start with." Her voice took on a slight edge that belied the pleasant expression on her face.
The now-designated Robert pulled Alan's hands behind the chair back as he sat down, handcuffs clicking into place. The older man started and jerked, but the links of the cuffs had been incorporated into the rungs on the back in some way he couldn't see, and it would be impossible to move without having to stand up and take the chair along.
"Oh, don't worry Alan. I think I'd rather call you Alan," she said in a confiding kind of tone with a slightly mocking smile. "I just want you to stay still and take time to think about things. I'm sure a man with your intelligence can see where his best interests lie. Oh, and my name is Sandra." She gave him a look that managed to be cold and saccharine at the same time. "Now we can all be on a first name basis." With their captive secured, the two kidnappers left, leaving him alone once again and reeling, his mind working in overtime.
There'd been no attempt to disguise their faces or keep him from seeing them. Alan could only conclude they actually intended to kill him once he'd given them what they wanted. So in spite of what Sandra said, his best interest was to hold out, or stall in some way. He couldn't really give them the password anyway, since he hadn't been the one to set it up. Sam had laughingly joked about security for the security program and extra precautions while they were accessing its file on Alan's laptop; he must have been the one to put the extra layer of protection in. But there was no way he was going to lead them to Sam. No, he'd just have to be as vague as possible, and hope that he'd be found sooner rather than later. The handcuffs clinked softly as he leaned back in the chair, head tilting back so his gaze took in the plain ceiling.
"Oh Sam…" he whispered into the empty room.
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Alan's arms were stiff from being forced back for what felt like hours, although he had no idea how long he'd been sitting handcuffed to the chair. He was getting thirsty again, and his stomach was starting to growl, but he ignored those discomforts for the moment, currently trying to work a wrist out of either of the cuffs without success. The skin was probably getting abraded and had already become tender, so Alan took a break, his body drooping with fatigue, chin drifting down toward his chest. He didn't notice the door open silently, but the sound of footsteps brought the silver head up sharply, body immediately tensing as Sandra and Robert walked toward him. The gun was held down at her side, but in her other hand was a large napkin, wrapped around something.
"It's been my experience that men always think better with something in their stomachs," Sandra quipped, revealing a large apple that had been cut into bite-sized pieces. Alan looked at the food suspiciously, although his stomach growled again at the sweet smell that drifted from it. The expression on his face made her laugh. "Oh don't worry, it's not drugged. I thought I would prove that we can be friends if you'll let us."
Alan scoffed inwardly at that, but thought it better not to let on how skeptical he was of their intentions. So he nodded his head and thanked her, thinking they would release his hands so he could eat. Much to his chagrin Sandra picked up a piece of the fruit and held it to his mouth, apparently going to hand-feed him every bite. He suppressed his feelings of revulsion and silently opened his mouth, eating each piece as the young woman gave it to him. The hulking Robert was a silent, oppressive presence, and Alan was beginning to wonder if he could even talk. When the last bite of apple was gone, Sandra dabbed the moisture from his lips with the napkin, smiling.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it? I knew you must be getting hungry." She made a gesture and within seconds Alan heard the water running in the sink. Robert's large hand appeared beside him, handing Sandra a clear plastic cup of water. Where the cup came from, Alan hadn't a clue, but he was glad to have some liquid to wash down the sugary taste from the fruit he'd just eaten. He allowed his female captor to tilt the rim up against his mouth, pleased when the coolness eased his thirst. Again she dried his mouth when he'd finished, making him feel like a child being tended to. Alan kept a pleasantly neutral expression on his face though, hoping to lull his kidnappers into the false belief that he was cooperative.
"Thank you, but… I don't see why you would take the time to feed me in the first place. Surely it would make more sense to deprive me of necessities to raise the percentage of success." He put a bit of hesitation into his tone, as if he wasn't sure he should bring the subject up or not. Sandra actually chuckled at that, the first genuine emotion she'd shown since he first laid eyes on her.
"Oh, it's a pleasure doing business with you, Alan. You make a valid point, there could be a little bit of mercenary lurking inside that suit." She folded up the napkin and tucked it into her hip pocket as she continued. "Like I said before, I like starting out as friends. It's so much more enjoyable that way, and faster. Then everyone walks away happy." Hazel eyes looked slightly unsure in spite of Alan's best effort to mask his true feelings.
"But I don't see how. I can't see how you could let me just walk away after I've seen you both, and know what you're planning to do. The only logical result would be killing me." Since Robert didn't seem inclined to communicate, Alan directed his gaze and comments to Sandra, wondering how she would respond. She shrugged her slim shoulders.
"Normally you'd be right. But it won't be a problem, because after we get the information we need, you won't remember anything that happened here. It won't be possible for you to present a threat. So you see, you really can walk away from this if you cooperate." Alan dropped his gaze, cuffs clinking slightly as he shifted. In spite of what Sandra said, he really couldn't cooperate, for more than one reason. If he led them to Sam, the young man would definitely prove stubborn and uncooperative and there would be no telling what would happen to him. Alan wouldn't, no couldn't, be the cause of that. Then there was his loyalty to Encom; he couldn't take away a program he'd worked hard on, that had a history with both himself and the company. Perhaps if he hedged slightly, he could gain some more time. To be truly honest, he didn't feel he could trust the enigmatic Sandra, no matter what she said. He had no doubt she could lie convincingly if it suited her needs, much like many executives he'd come across.
"I don't really feel comfortable with the idea. I've been with Encom for a long time, it… it doesn't feel right." Sandra patted his cheek unexpectedly, making Alan jerk back with surprise. If she was offended by his instinctive reaction, she didn't show it.
"You can sit and think about it some more. We still have some time, but the clock is ticking Alan." Her voice held a slight warning, as if that vague semi-fondness she held for him wouldn't get in the way of what had to be done. He didn't know if he had weeks, or days, or even hours, and couldn't stop the shiver that traveled through him as they left him alone yet again.
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By the time the kidnappers came back, Alan desperately needed to use the bathroom. He was trying to think dry thoughts when the door opened and Sandra walked in first, followed by the ever present Robert. She immediately moved to stand next to their captive, fingers resting gently on the back of his head in a gesture that was probably meant to soothe and win him over. It only made him feel anxious though, the emotion not helped by the fact that his bladder was clamoring for attention.
"So, have you given it some thought Alan? I think you've had enough time to figure which way is the smart way. The question is, will you choose wisely?" Alan clamped his lips together, wrists turning this way and that within the metal rings that held him on the chair. He could feel heat rising to his cheeks, unable to really concentrate on what she was saying, and reluctant to confess his need. Those slim, soft fingers moved down to the back of his neck as she regarded him closer. "Is something wrong Alan? You feel very tense." To Alan's chagrin he blushed even more, glancing down toward the floor. Needing to use the bathroom should be no big deal, but it was made extremely embarrassing by the fact that he'd need to get permission from his kidnappers.
"I… I uh… really have to use the restroom," he blurted out, chancing a glance upward at Sandra. He didn't want to see the look on Robert's face, sure he would find nothing more than, at best, indifference, and at worst, cruel amusement. Sandra's lips quirked in a smile, her tone overly solicitous.
"Well why didn't you say so?" Without another word, she nodded at Robert.
Perhaps they'd foreseen their captive's needs and already discussed what they would do, because without further consultation Robert began unlocking one ring of the handcuffs, leaving the other to dangle from his right wrist. Sandra backed away, the always present gun held loose and ready at her side. Not that it was likely Alan could overpower Robert, but they weren't leaving anything to chance, apparently. A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him none-too-gently over to the toilet, causing Alan to drag his feet as much as was possible. They couldn't seriously mean… wasn't he going to have any privacy? Well… it wasn't too much different than using a men's restroom, Sandra's presence notwithstanding, but the lack of privacy was made more humiliating at a time when he didn't have any control at all.
"Oh, don't worry Alan, I'll be a good girl and turn around." From the corner of his eye, outside the peripheral range of his glasses, he could make out her blurry form doing just that. The open amusement in her tone made him grit his teeth, but he honestly couldn't have held out any longer. As quickly as possible he took care of business and rinsed his hands off, doing his best to ignore the pair of eyes that remained steady on him, making sure he didn't make any futile bid for escape. As soon as he'd dried his hands on his pants again, Robert hauled him back to the chair and secured the cuffs once more. Then the questions began.
"What is the password? Does anyone else know the password? Does anyone else have access to the file?"
Over and over the words bombarded him. There was no heat in Sandra's voice, but he could sense her irritation at his lack of response. From the beginning he lowered his head, didn't speak, and didn't look at either of his kidnappers, trying to maintain a relaxed and impassive demeanor. Alan was hungry and thirsty again, but figured that with his lack of cooperation, Sandra wouldn't be so forthcoming with food this time. His stomach grumbled loudly at him and drew a smirk from Robert, the first actual expression the man had shown. There would be no sympathy or compassion from that one, he was certain. Alan was well and truly frightened but refused to let it show. What happened when they got tired of playing nice? Would they resort to hurting him? He swallowed hard, left forefinger and thumb rubbing together nervously. Sandra quickly noticed the gesture, bending down and smiling at him.
"Alan, it could all be over already if you would tell us. You could be home again right now, enjoying the last of the weekend." Sam's face flashed in Alan's mind, as well as thoughts of how he'd planned to spend Friday through Sunday 'congratulating' his lover on getting better, and longing washed through him. He turned his face away from her before she could see the vulnerability he knew must have shown. With a soft little sigh Sandra stood up again. "Have it your way, Alan. But if you don't cooperate, then we'll have to go to the next level. Think about that for now. And the next time we come in here… Well, let's just say it'll be a whole different ballgame." Alan couldn't bring himself to look up again until the door had latched shut, giving a desperate but futile tug at the handcuffs.
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Sam jerked awake on the couch in his apartment, blinking blearily over at the TV news station still spouting information about the disappearance of Encom's chairman. A very serious young woman with her auburn hair in a loose bun was sitting behind the news desk, reading from the latest report.
No breaking news of Encom chairman Alan Bradley, reported missing yesterday afternoon at 5:45 PM; employees state they hadn't seen him at all that day. So far stocks are holding steady, but investors are beginning to wonder what this has in store for the company.
She looked up into the camera then, maybe reading from some cue cards. Sam sat up, rubbing his eyes.
This isn't the first hardship Encom has had to deal with. Early in the 80's its CEO, Edward Dillinger, was confirmed to have stolen material from then-programmer Kevin Flynn, who later became the CEO himself. Mr. Flynn disappeared in 1989, and is still one of the city's most well-known missing persons cold cases. Only a year ago, Encom ex-CEO Richard Mackey was found guilty of conspiracy to harass and stalk Alan Bradley in a case that prompted a necessary shifting within the organization.
Her gaze switched to a camera more toward her right, and she leaned forward slightly, as if her words were of upmost earnestness.
Although some are drawing similarities with the unsolved disappearance of Kevin Flynn, there is no discernible connection to link the two events. Likewise, public opinion on certain forum sites is calling this the 'Curse of Encom', citing that unusual circumstances seem to surround CEOs within the rising company. But police are working hard to follow up any and all leads. If you have information regarding the whereabouts of Alan Bradley, please call the number below.
A picture popped up to one side of the screen to remind the public what Alan looked like, making Sam's heart clench. It was a publicity photo they'd taken a few months before, and to Sam it highlighted the endearing smile and handsome features of his lover. He quickly shut off the television, not wanting to hear anything else. He didn't know what to do, and Sam hated being forced into inaction. But the only lead he could follow up, the Grid, was not the answer. There had been no demand for ransom, no statement from any kind of organization; all his thoughts led to nothing. Frustrating, guilt-ridden nothing. It had been almost forty-eight hours since Stephanie had called him with the news of Alan's disappearance, with little else but Marvin to distract him from the fear that had lodged in his chest. Slouching back on the couch, Sam rubbed a hand over his face wearily and rubbed Marvin's ears. The little dog lay next to him, back pressed against his leg. He wondered if Marv was missing Alan just as much as he did. For all he knew, the canine just figured his other person was on vacation or something. The next second his musings were interrupted when Marvin's head came up, body tensing as he jumped down from the couch and gave two short barks at the door just before somebody knocked. Sam stared at the door briefly. He'd already told Stephanie he would stay put; was she coming by to check up on him now? Heaving an exasperated sigh, Sam stood up and quick-walked over to the door, flinging it open without really seeing who was on the other side.
"Steph, I already said I wou-" He stopped short, caught off guard by the unfamiliar man who stood there. He looked about Alan's age and wore glasses, although unruly brown curls helped give him a boyish quality that the proper Alan would never have. The much shorter man wore casual clothes that Sam might have been comfortable in: tee, relaxed-fit jeans, and a dark hoodie; he was also looking around nervously.
"Hey Sam, good to meet you. You mind if we get inside and out of sight? Don't want to take chances after what happened to your dad and now Alan." Startled, Sam had no time to object before the guy moved past him with more dexterity than his sturdy frame would suggest.
"Hey, who are you?!" Sam called out, turning swiftly around to see the stranger set a messenger bag down on the couch and ruffle Marvin's ears.
"Cute dog." The comment was casual and said with a grin. "And sorry for the abrupt entrance. It took longer than I expected to track down your address and I wanted to get started. Name's Roy Kleinberg." Sam was completely bewildered, torn between the desire to laugh and yell.
"Get started on what? What are you doing in my place?" The young man's exasperation was blatantly obvious, and Roy's expression turned sheepish.
"Whoops, got ahead of myself. I used to work with your dad at Encom back in the day, and with Alan too. In fact, Alan and I have stayed in touch all these years. Then suddenly I'm watching the news and see that he's disappeared too. I mean, first Kevin and now… well, if they're not related, it's a hell of a coincidence." Roy managed to look frustrated and worried all at once, and Sam could completely relate to that mix of emotions. While he didn't know this guy from Adam, what little he'd said had the ring of truth. And somewhere in the past, he thought Alan might have mentioned a Roy, something about a little guy who used to share his popcorn. Well, Sam would give him the benefit of the doubt, but at the first hint of deceit, respect his elders or not, he'd toss him out on his ear.
"Why are you here, though? The police are already looking into Alan's disappearance, so there's not really anything more we can do." Sam moved toward the couch, dropping onto it with a tired groan.
"I don't think the police have all the information. You see, a while back Alan told me he'd gotten a page from Flynn's… your dad's… old arcade. Now, he never said if he checked it out or found anything or not, so maybe…" Roy's voice trailed off, a hint of hope in the words. Sam had immediately straightened up a bit at the mention of the page.
"No, he didn't check it out," the younger man admitted. "But I did. Trust me on this, dad's disappearance and Alan's aren't related. Which means we really don't have anything to go on." Sam slumped forward, hands covering his face.
"Oh…" Roy's earnest expression turned downcast before he brightened up a bit. "Maybe it has something to do with a project he's working on, huh? I mean, he is the chairman of a mega-company. It stands to reason he'd know about some goodies." Sam chuckled a little, unable to help liking the boyish excitement the older man exuded. At least he'd smiled for the first time since yesterday.
"I suppose it's possible, but there were only a few things upcoming, and Alan only worked on them at the office. He'd gotten better about not bringing stuff home." Sam grinned at Roy's raised eyebrow. "Yeah, not the Alan Bradley we know right? But he decided to ease up a bit on the whole workaholic thing, try to extend his lifespan." The older man returned his grin then.
"Well that's good. And it also means we can look through his computer and see what was going on. Whaddya say? Get me into Encom tomorrow and see what we can see?" Sam cocked his head slightly and regarded Roy.
"What could you do that the police couldn't? It's likely they've already searched through his files." Roy shrugged, pursing his lips slightly.
"They probably have. But they have legal loopholes to jump through, and I don't." The impish grin directed at him eased some of Sam's worry. At least he was going to be doing something again instead of just sitting around and waiting for whatever the police could find.
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Roy sat at Alan's desk, typing rapidly on the laptop as he looked through the various files and work history, while Sam alternated between pacing beside him and sitting on one of the straightback chairs that usually resided in front of the large wooden piece of furniture. Sam thought he had a handle on underhanded and sneaky computer work, but from what he was seeing, Roy had learned quite a few tricks since leaving Encom.
"So how did you learn to do all this stuff anyway?" The question was sincerely curious. He couldn't imagine Alan having an old friend who would actually do this stuff, much less know how to in the first place. Roy laughed softly, fingers never stopping their work.
"Well, it all goes back to our early days in Encom. We were programmers together. In fact, my cubicle was right next to his. Anyway, after your dad took over the company we were all having a great time. I don't think I'd ever enjoyed my work more. But when he disappeared and things changed, it wasn't long before I left the company. Alan, as you know, stayed on. He just… really hoped he could salvage something of the way things used to be." The brown curls bobbed as Roy shook his head sadly. "Well, that didn't happen. Alan was so fed up; with Encom, with the lack of progress on your dad's disappearance… and I think his girlfriend had left around that time too. So he came to me one day and started talking about how he wished we could do something, anything, rather than just holding onto hope. That night we got the idea for a website that would keep track of all the progress and news on your dad's disappearance. I got hold of videos, audio interviews, recordings of phone calls, anything and everything. Some stuff Alan got for me, too. Just to make things easier, I started picking up a few new tricks on my own." Sam gaped at the older man.
"Wait a minute, are you talking about Flynn Lives? You and Alan were behind it?" The amount of surprise in his voice made Roy laugh.
"Yeah, that was us. It gave us something to do, ya know? I gotta say, it sure kept me from going stir cra-… oh wait, this could be it. Here's a record of all the computers and their IP addresses who have accessed files on this laptop. Most of it is during regular business hours for shared files; there are even a few outside IP's that lead to Encom employees' home computers, but here are some access logs that have occurred between two and four AM. And every time they were looking at… something called Achilles. It looks like they attempted to gain access, but couldn't because it's password protected." Sam leaned down quickly, fingers gripping the armrest of Alan's chair.
"Alan didn't set that password up; I did." Sam had a sudden thought, and he didn't like it at all. "Whoever is trying to look at that file couldn't get in. You don't suppose they figured Alan could?" Roy looked troubled.
"Well, it could explain why he's gone missing." The older man worried at a thumbnail with his teeth. "That IP was bounced around a few places, but I might be able to track it down with some time." Sam's gut tightened, but he nodded.
"Yeah, try it out. Anything we can come up with at this point is better than what we have now." Although they didn't know it, both men were thinking the same thing.
'…If Alan has the time…'
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In spite of his anxiety level and the uncomfortable position he was chained in, Alan managed to doze off in the chair, almost two days without sleep finally draining his energy reserves. With his chin angled down toward his chest and body leaned forward slightly, he was held upright in part by the handcuffs keeping his wrists locked together. He slept fitfully, fingers twitching or body tensing, even in dreams still not free. Alan's nerves were so keyed up that when the door opened again and footfalls entered the room, he came instantly awake, though his brain was still fogged from sleep. Hazel eyes blinked a few times, managing to focus on the man and woman who had returned, his mind remembering what Sandra had promised the last time. Instead of the gun, in her hand was the grip of a small rubber case, the sight renewing Alan's attack of nerves. He licked his dry lips, the fingers of his left hand rubbing together, but couldn't gather the courage to ask what was in it. He could only stare silently, slightly wide-eyed, as she walked behind him and out of his line of sight. Soft sounds could only hint at what was happening with a slight click, then a gentle tapping or flicking noise. Perhaps she was setting the case down on the sink, or the toilet lid. That left him with no hint as to what was coming, upping his nervousness. Alan tried to breathe slowly and not get overwhelmed by panic, but he was tired, very hungry and thirsty, and wishing more than anything to see Sam again. When Sandra finally moved past him to where she could be seen, Alan started visibly at the syringe in her hand, filled with a cloudy, off-white liquid.
"What is that?" he managed to get out past a throat closing with fear. Her reply was matter-of-fact as she nodded to Robert, prompting the large man to unbutton Alan's left sleeve cuff and begin rolling it back.
"I could give you the scientific name, but it wouldn't mean anything to you. All you need to know is that it's a truth serum." The older man tensed and tried to jerk away from Robert's touch as the rolled cuff reached above his elbow. His range of motion was limited, but he was determined, and caused enough aggravation that the younger man grabbed his throat and began to squeeze threateningly, enough to shut off air flow for a short time. Sandra clucked her tongue. "I wouldn't try that again, Alan. Robert will just make you pass out first and then I'll inject you. All you'll get out of it is a much larger headache, trust me." Choking, Alan went still, gasping in a breath when his throat was released. Sandra waited until the coughing tremors stopped before she slid the needle into his arm, making their captive wince at the brief burning sensation as the liquid slowly flowed from the syringe.
"It'll take a good twenty or thirty minutes to go through your bloodstream. We'll be back in a bit. Try to relax and go with it, Alan. You'll have a much easier time." They left him alone again, tugging at the handcuffs without any worthwhile result. He couldn't tell them about Sam, he couldn't. Maybe if he just focused on one thought, something to distract him when Sandra started asking questions again… Wasn't that how spies and those people did it? He just had to succeed; while they thought he could help them, they were being a touch more cautious. The moment they found out he didn't know what they wanted, Alan was pretty sure he'd be killed and then Sam would be in danger. No, he just had to keep holding out until the authorities could get some kind of lead on his abductors. Home… he had to make it back home.
Back to Sam.
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Roy was peering intently at the laptop screen, fingers only occasionally pausing in his search for the IP's origin. Sam had given up watching over his shoulder, as he'd ended up being shooed away repeatedly. He'd taken residence in one of the other chairs, tense, with his right knee bouncing rapidly with growing worry.
"Aha!" Roy's sound of victory brought him standing at full alert, taking the few steps to be right beside him as he punched a hand in the air. "Got it! It actually started out in a building only a few blocks from here." He beamed happily, folding his arms and leaning back in the plush desk chair with satisfaction.
"Well that's great! We can contact the police and let them know about this, and they can look into it." Sam felt as if a weight had lifted. Hopefully Alan would be found soon and then… The look on Roy's face stopped his thought. "What's wrong?" The older man swept a hand through brown curls before gesturing to the screen in front of him.
"How will we explain how we got this information? Police departments don't look kindly on civilians interfering in an investigation, even though they did already go through this laptop." He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. Sam made an exasperated noise.
"Why did you even do this then?!" He began pacing, trying to release some of the frustration and anger at having the brief moment of hope snatched away.
"Sam, trust me." The placating tone made Sam send a small glare Roy's way, but the older man only grinned. "I know a guy." Sam's frantic pace stopped as he gave a skeptical look, but Roy ignored him, pulling his phone out and fiddling with the screen before raising it to his ear. "Hey, it's Ram. You and the gang meet me at the address I emailed you. We need to talk." With those cryptic comments, he hung up.
"Who were you talking to?" Sam asked, genuinely curious, while Roy began powering down Alan's laptop.
"You'll find out later. Now come on, let's grab some food and head back to your place. We have a few hours and I need to gather whatever intel I can."
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After grabbing burgers and fries, Roy set up shop in Sam's apartment, seated on Sam's couch with his personal laptop across his knees while he chomped a burger one-handed. Sam had thrown a small burger to Marvin and sat down next to the older man while unwrapping his own meal.
"So what kind of intel are you after, exactly?" Sam asked before he took a big bite and began chewing. Roy popped a few fries into his mouth while still tip-tapping away on the keys.
"Just specs on that building, like who owns it, blueprints, leasing info, security cam footage if there is any, that sort of thing." Sam had done his share of sneaky operations over the years, but the offhanded way the other man spoke about probably hacking into various private systems and files astounded even him.
"But why? We can't go to the police with it, and don't get me wrong, but I don't see the two of us teaming up to go case the joint." Sam's skeptical and slightly sarcastic tone prompted a chuckle from the half-distracted older man, who was popping the last bite of burger into his own mouth.
"Don't worry, that's where my guy comes in. But when he gets here, he'll want all he can get on that building. That's my role in it, I research and pry and get the little details." Roy shrugged, clicking through various tabs in various windows on the screen while he talked. Here something got saved, there something got minimized, most actions too fast for Sam to catch more than a glimpse of anything. Blue eyes closed with a wide yawn then, and Roy glanced over at him. "Hey, you look pretty wiped. Why don't you catch an hour or so of shuteye? I won't let you miss anything, I promise." Sam was so tempted to vehemently deny any tiredness on his part, but he'd barely gotten any sleep the night before and wanted his brain to be better rested when he finally found out what was going on. He just nodded in response and headed up the stairs, chuckling when Marvin stayed behind to stare up at Roy. There were still fries up there on that couch, after all.
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Sam's eyes flew open, taking in the late afternoon sun streaming into his bedroom, wondering why he had woken so abruptly.
"Sam!" Oh, yeah, he'd heard Roy calling his name. He sat up and slid off the bed from where he'd been laying on top of the comforter. "Come on down, got some people for you to meet." Roy vanished back down the stairs, leaving Sam to blink at where he had been. People, as in more than one person? All the older man had ever mentioned was 'a guy'. Curious, he stuffed his socked feet back into his shoes and ambled down to the first floor, where a small gathering was taking place in his living room. Roy was showing his laptop screen to a man who practically towered over the former programmer, even sitting down. The guy must have been at least six feet five inches, and had close-cropped black hair with a slim but muscular build. Sitting at the far end of the couch was another man, his attention occupied by several copies of some gadget that he had placed on the coffee table and was fiddling with. His layered brown hair was unremarkable except for a one-inch sweep of silver that extended from the right temple which he looked far too young to possess. Farther away at the kitchen table sat a young woman with strawberry-blonde hair cut almost boy-short, her hands efficiently cleaning a selection of guns she had arrayed on the wooden surface. She was the only one to look up at his arrival, displaying a quick smile and wave. Sam waved back, bemused. As he neared the couch he took better notice of what Roy was displaying on his screen; a set of blueprints were pulled up and zoomed in.
"This looks like the most promising range of floors," the curly-haired hacker was saying. "The lower floors are occupied by various businesses, but out of the empty areas, these are the only ones that are finished and wired for electricity. The rest of the building is still in development." The other man's head was nodding thoughtfully.
"I agree. It shouldn't take long to do a walkthrough of those floors and see what we find." The black-haired man looked up at Sam as he approached, smiling while he stood and offered his hand. "Hey, Sam right? Gilroy Michaels. We got here as fast as we could." Sam shook the hand that clasped his firmly, meeting the other's light brown gaze.
"I… didn't know what was going on, to be honest." Gilroy chuckled.
"Roy does like to play things close to his vest." He looked down at the older man with some fondness. "But anyway, we're here to help. Let me introduce you to the group." Both hands gestured to his chest. "Myself, I'm the leader of this little team, I usually go by Gil. Right there is Jonathon Allerday. And it's Jonathon. Not Jon, Jonny, J-man, or nothing else." Laughter danced in Gilroy's voice, but the joke must have been old because the seated man merely rolled his eyes as he worked on the last little device in front of him. "He's our go-to gadget guy. He'd give Bond's Q a run for his money, I think." That compliment was acknowledged with a slight half-smirk at least. "Over there is Lindsey Hawkins, but we call her Lindy. Lucky Lindy." The woman made a slightly rude gesture at Gil.
"Luck has nothing to do with it," she scoffed. The black-haired man laughed as he continued.
"If you haven't guessed, she's our gun expert, and also our sniper, should we need one." Sam looked alarmed at the thought, and Gil raised his hands in a calming gesture. "It's not likely this will be anything more than a recon mission, okay? But we're always prepared, just in case. Now, Roy has gotten all the intel we need, and I'm thinking we can get set up for tonight, if that's all right. The goal is to see what connection this building could have with Mr. Bradley's disappearance. This is home base; we'll have headsets with a connection to Roy's laptop for communication, and we'll keep you up to date periodically."
Sam's chest felt tight with worry, but he nodded. Gil exuded a confidence and ease that was born of experience; this small group of people could actually be their best bet to find out what happened to Alan, and Sam was willing to go for it.
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Alan's bound hands were clenched into fists, and he took short, shallow breaths that seemed barely enough to get adequate oxygen into his system. His thin dress shirt was damp with perspiration and clung to the skin along his spine and chest. Sandra was pacing in front of him, eyeing the silver-haired man with open annoyance.
"Is he having a reaction to the serum?" Robert's voice matched his outward appearance, rough and raspy and rumbling out of his thickly muscled chest, and it held no concern for their captive, merely giving a detached observation. His partner in crime shook her head.
"No, it looks like he's fighting it. And doing a damn good job too…" Her tone was a mix of admiration for the older man's spirit and disgust at the delay in their quest for information. "I'll need to give him another dose, but we have to wait another ten minutes. I don't want it to overload his system before he has a chance to talk. Keep an eye on him while I get the last case of vials."
Alan vaguely listened to their conversation, sweat beading on his temple and tickling the skin as it drew a trail down his cheek, his unfocused gaze directed at the opposite wall. He didn't know how much longer he could hold them off, could keep himself from responding to the voices that were getting more impatient by the hour. He'd lost track of how many times a needle had pierced his skin, his mouth dry, head pounding. Sam's face swam into his mind's eye, and Alan's eyelids lowered, desperate to see it more clearly, to escape from the stark reality of the bare room around him. They were going to dose him again, yet another burning sensation moving through his veins, and this time would probably do it. He… he couldn't give in. He couldn't… shouldn't… The sound of his heartbeat pounded in his ears and Alan latched onto it, needing something to distract himself with. It was rhythmic, soothing, and helped ease his tension, fingers loosening their tight curl somewhat. Focus on the heartbeat, nothing else. The steady beat counted out his time, whatever he had left, and all else became a stream of white noise.
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Three stealthy figures moved up the stairs, dressed in various forms of dark clothing and barely visible in the half-lighting usually indicative of an empty office building. Gil took the lead and eased up to the stairwell door, peering through the slim window in search of movement. After a slow visual sweep through the narrow piece of glass he opened the heavy metal door that surrounded it, unsurprised at that point by the well-oiled hinges on all the doors they'd encountered. Even though none of the three floors were being leased, they were well taken care of, a fact which made Gil suspicious but grateful; it actually helped their covert intrusion. The first two floors they'd searched were unoccupied, with no sign at all of anyone ever being there. This was the last one, and their alertness was at its peak. Lindy and Jonathon followed their leader through the door, each with a handgun held at the ready. With silent signals, he directed them to split up and begin searching the hallways. They each took a different corridor, rubber-soled shoes making no noise in the already eerie stillness.
Lindsey moved down her chosen direction, eyes scanning the corridor in front of her with every step. She carefully tried the handle of each door she passed and peered inside, finding nothing but emptiness. That particular avenue was a dead end and she soon had reached the last few doors along its length. Her reddish-blonde head poked slowly through one and she almost let out an audible gasp of surprise; inside a well-lit and otherwise empty room was a single chair with a man sitting on it. His arms were pulled back behind him, silver head slightly hanging, and he didn't seem to notice her entrance at all. If she wasn't mistaken, their recon mission had turned into a rescue operation. Lindy stepped through the doorway, checking the interior handle to make sure it wouldn't lock before letting it close behind her.
"Mr. Bradley," she hissed, moving swiftly to his side. Her fingers cradled one cheek as she peered into his face, lifting his chin with her thumb for a better look. The older man's eyes were closed and he looked a little pale, skin clammy under her touch. "Alan Bradley, can you hear me?"
Encom's CEO could vaguely feel something different, a slim hand on his face that didn't seem to be Sandra's. He didn't want to leave his thoughts of Sam, afraid he might just be imagining things, but hope won out. Alan barely managed to partially open his eyes, their hazel depths not quite focused. An unfamiliar woman stared at him, his mind caught by the strange blend of gray and brown in her gaze, a color that should have been muddy but instead was warm and rich. Her mouth was moving but he couldn't hear the words, and the willpower drained away from him as his eyes fluttered shut once more. Gun still at the ready in her right hand, Lindsey's other hand rose to tap the com-device in her left ear, urgently whispered words easily carrying through the sensitive receiver.
"Gil, Alan Bradley is here; I've found him, but he doesn't look very good. I doubt he can move under his own power." The response came within seconds.
"Stay with him Lindy, we'll converge on your posi- wait a minute. There's a light ahead and I hear voices." He kept his words whisper-soft. "Lindy, guard Bradley. Tech, follow my signal and back me up." Jonathon responded an affirmative and then communication ended. Gil instantly flattened himself against the wall, watching the partially open door down the hallway with his sidearm at the ready. In minutes his teammate had arrived and they stealthily crept toward the source of the light that spilled into the dim corridor.
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Almost two days after his mysterious disappearance, an anonymous tip led police to the building where Encom CEO Alan Bradley was being held captive by two as-yet unidentified kidnappers. Mr. Bradley is recovering from his ordeal, and is expected to return to his company duties by next week. Expect more details as they are revealed. In other business news, stocks drop the third week in a row for business gian-
The television turned off abruptly, cutting off whatever the news anchor was going to say next, and Sam set the remote down gently onto the small table he was sitting next to. It was quiet in the private room he'd gotten for Alan, with only the hum of the heating and the soft sound of Alan's breathing testing the silence. The hospital staff had put his lover on an IV drip to help bring his fluids back up, and whatever drug had been in his bloodstream still needed time to fully break down, but at least he was physically all right, overall. Sam couldn't keep his gaze from drifting back to the bruises that decorated the older man's neck and around his wrists, and the dozen or so needle marks in the unmoving left arm, frightening reminders of the fact that Alan had been a victim because of him, because of the password he'd decided to make up on a whim. Gil had filled Sam and Roy in on details the police hadn't allowed out to the media, including the fact that in a case full of empty syringes containing traces of the unknown drug in the CEO's system, there was also a final one that contained a lethal amount of poison. If not for Gil and his team… it was entirely possible Alan might not have come back to him at all. Sam took Alan's left hand in his, feeling the solid warmth under his palm, tangling their fingers together while he leaned forward and stole a quick kiss from the older man's mouth.
While he and Roy had been waiting anxiously for word from the team, Sam's memory had picked over all his moments with Alan, especially after they'd become lovers. It started out as a way to occupy his mind and stay calm, but during the mental replay he'd come to a startling revelation: not once had he ever actually said 'I love you' to Alan. Overhearing his older lover say those three words months ago during their mountain ordeal had been the jumpstart he'd needed to take their relationship to a new level, but… Alan had never heard them. Sam always figured his need for intimacy and proximity with the older man would get across how strongly he felt, but what if it hadn't? Did Alan really know how much of a void would be in the younger man's heart if he weren't in Sam's life? If he didn't, Sam made a promise to himself to make sure he did.
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Two days later, Alan did indeed have some doubts. After his release from the hospital he would occasionally catch Sam watching him with a pensive look on his face, or nibbling his lower lip as if there was something on his mind. While his young lover was as eager as ever to be near him, he'd backed off on pressing for more intimacy, and Alan couldn't figure out if it was because Sam was trying to let him fully recover or if something else was up. He hoped it was the former, but… with the week-long dry spell between them, could Sam have gotten tired of waiting? They had indulged in romantic moments every once in a while in their relationship, but the majority of their time together was far more physical. Sam himself was a very physical personality, very touch-oriented with his lover. If he couldn't fulfill Sam's need, would that mean he could lose him? Alan had a sick feeling in his stomach at the mere thought of it. He must have had a strange expression on his face, because Sam was looking at him in a very concerned manner. They were both sitting on Alan's couch, watching a random documentary on the television that neither was really paying attention to, each lost in their own thoughts. With the time off Alan had taken after his kidnapping, Sam had decided to move in with the older man, much as Alan had done while he was sick with the flu. Sam kept him company, cuddled him when he needed it, and left him alone when it was appropriate. Marvin had been left with his 'Aunt Stephie', as the younger man had so laughingly put it, so it was just the two of them. They joked and smiled, and said all the right things, but Alan couldn't help feeling that something important was going to happen, and soon. He just didn't know if it would be the kind of event that would hurt him, or help him.
Alan pretended not to notice Sam's concerned gaze, hazel eyes staring half-focused at the television screen. He didn't want to hurry along whatever the younger seemed to want to say.
"Hey, you look tired Alan. Want to head to bed?" The words were casual, friendly, and completely devoid of any hint at anything more than sleeping, just like the previous night at his house. They'd gotten ready for bed, and then shared Alan's mattress without more than a brief kiss goodnight, despite his effort to deepen it. Maybe he was wrong and Sam was getting some kind of strange revenge for being intimately-ignored… Suddenly feeling too confused and worried to deal with it anymore, Alan nodded his head.
"Yeah, I think I am. You can stay up if you want to, you don't have to go to bed just because I do." He stood up, giving a small smile to the younger man on the couch, and headed down the hall to his bedroom. When Sam didn't immediately move to follow, he couldn't help the small twinge of rejection that stung his heart. Of course, Sam was used to odd hours, and had energy to spare; he shouldn't take it personally, but a part of him was afraid the younger man truly was getting bored with having to slow down and accommodate his one-time godfather. Consequently, in spite of the fact that he was honestly a little tired, Alan couldn't fall asleep once he'd gotten ready for bed. Doubts and fears kept creeping into his mind, and it didn't take long for him to let out an exasperated sigh and make a promise to himself: he was going to wait up however long it took for Sam to come to bed. And then he was going to damn well seduce the younger man and make sure he knew where they stood.
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Sam watched Alan's retreating back, feeling half eager and half afraid about what he intended to do. On the one hand, their relationship had been doing great until now, and there was no one he enjoyed being with more than Alan. But it would be the first time he'd ever said those three words to anyone, and he felt it needed to be done right. Sam wanted the moment to be purely romantic without the physicality, so his older lover could be sure he was speaking from the heart instead of his libido. He sat on the couch and fiddled with the remote, changing channels aimlessly. Since Alan was tired, maybe he should wait until the morning to follow through with his romantic venture… Yes, that would be best. Sam turned the television off and stretched, noticing Alan had been out of the room for over forty minutes. He would most certainly have fallen asleep by now.
A little smile curved the young man's lips; at least he could look forward to snuggling up to Alan in a pre-warmed bed. With that happy thought, Sam headed through the quiet house and opened the bedroom door slowly, not wanting to disturb his sleeping lover. Alan lay under the covers on his side of the bed, slightly sprawled on his back, with his right hand tucked up under the pillow just a bit. Sam moved carefully through the dim room, the darkness only barely lifted by a small nightlight that spilled yellowish light past the partially open bathroom door. As quietly as possible, he slipped into the bathroom and took care of nighttime business. After heading back into the bedroom, he slipped into boxers and a tee before sliding under the covers on his side. Sam lost no time in scooting over next to Alan and pressing up against the other man's left side. He had just nuzzled his cheek into the warm, shirt-clad shoulder when he felt the press of lips against his temple. Blue eyes darted up to see Alan looking down at him, his expression looking decidedly determined.
"Alan, I thought you were asleep!" Sam was too startled to say anything else, caught in the other's gaze as Alan unearthed a hand from under the sheets and gently pressed it to the back of the younger man's neck to bring him forward for a proper kiss. The meeting of lips was gentle but firm, and Alan felt a deep sense of peace for the first time in days, but it didn't last long. Sam had only just begun to return the kiss when he uttered a soft wordless sound and pulled away, breaking the closeness and Alan's heart. The older man sank back and just stayed still for a moment, his face mostly in shadow, trying not to show how much it had hurt.
"Sorry to bother you Sam… goodnight," he muttered, managing to keep his voice from breaking as he turned over onto his right side, faced away from the young man in the bed.
Sam nibbled his lower lip, realizing how his actions had been mistakenly interpreted. It looked like he wouldn't be able to wait until the morning, not if he wanted to make things right with Alan. The younger man stretched himself out along Alan's back, ignoring the way his lover tensed, letting their calves brush together and draping his left arm over the other's side, keeping him close. Alan didn't speak or move, but Sam could tell he definitely wasn't happy by the way he didn't react; normally when they were lying in bed like that, Alan would invariably reach up and cup his hand over his younger lover's, eventually tangling their fingers together. The fact he didn't spoke volumes. Sam moved slowly, nuzzling the silver hair with his nose, lips brushing over the back of Alan's neck. He felt a slight shiver in that long frame and smiled against the warm skin.
"I didn't want to get all physical tonight, Alan, because I thought we should talk. There's something I've been thinking about, something I feel I need to say." Alan stiffened further at the words, shoulders hunching. Sam rubbed small circles on the cloth-covered sternum under his hand, trying to wordlessly ease the other man's fears while he continued. "I was so scared when you disappeared… it was all I could do to keep from jumping on my bike to scour the streets in search of you."
Alan was still tensed, but he was listening, practically forced into attentiveness by the soft lips that brushed against his neck with every word, warm breath gusting teasingly over the skin. He closed his eyes, almost losing himself in the touch, the sound of Sam's voice as he spoke. Would this be the last time he would experience all of it?
"I don't want you thinking you're just a body to me, Alan. You're way more than that, okay? I've… been stupid. And I want you to know something." Sam drew in a breath, bringing cool air gusting over Alan's neck and making him shiver again. Hope was beginning to edge out the fear and relax previously tight muscles; if only… Sam's hand on his chest moved to clasp the older man's fingers. "I love you Alan."
Alan stared blankly out into the blurred, dim room, frozen, almost unable to believe what he just heard. He raised his head and looked over his shoulder at Sam's barely visible face where it was tucked against his neck.
"You… do?" Sam nodded, lifting his head to rest his chin on the crook of the older man's neck, trying to maintain a respectful demeanor, in spite of how badly he wanted to pounce Alan and kiss him into oblivion before engaging in some hot and heavy activities. This was all about what Alan needed, not Sam.
"Yeah, I do. I'm sorry that I came on so strong, but I thought if I could show you how much I like to be with you, then you'd understand what I wasn't saying. It's not just about the sex. Really. This is… we… are more than that. I…" Sam swallowed against the lump in his throat, wanting so much for Alan to know how sincere he was, to know how much he meant. "I really believe you're my 'One', Alan. This is it." Alan drew in a breath and turned over half on his back, finally facing Sam again. The younger man's blue eyes were dark in the dim room, but to Alan they seemed to blaze with light. He kept Sam's fingers in his grasp as he closed the short distance between them and kissed him soft and deep. When Alan pulled back and could speak, his voice was roughened and rumbling with emotion.
"Well, Sam… I think I can give you a lifetime." Matching grins slowly spread across their faces as they shared another kiss and proceeded to make up for all they'd missed the past week. Alan definitely knew where they stood.
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