ACT THREE
"Okay, I want a full update, where are we?" Angel asked from his place at the head of the conference table. The usual gang was all gathered, with the addition of Dr Hartley.
For several seconds no one spoke. It was Dr Hartley who broke the silence in a clear calm voice.
"Significant progress has been made," he said. "Working with the science department who have been analyzing the recovered bullet and the gun I believe it is possible to remove the bullet from Miss Burkle's skull without causing further damage to her. The key to doing this was figuring out the exact phase-shift of the bullet. Now using some highly specialized equipment I believe that I can get it out. The procedure is very risky. By that I mean we're talking about a fifty to seventy-five percent chance that Miss Burkle will die during the surgery. It's something that has never been attempted before by me, and as far as I know by anyone else in the world. It's uncharted territory, so there may be complications that we haven't even thought of yet." Dr Hartley tried to sound as confident as he could. Even though the numbers were daunting he was sure that he could pull it off.
"That's great!" Gunn exclaimed, a grin breaking out on his face. Lorne too smiled and sat back more in his seat. Wes and Angel however did not react to the news.
"What about her mind?" Wesley asked.
It was the question that Hartley had expected from the Head of Research. "Unfortunately we still have no way of restoring her memories. Once the bullet was removed I could wake her, but she would be... a blank slate. She would be like a new-born, needing to relearn everything."
"Until we find away to bring her back there's no point in taking the bullet out," Angel said, he balled his right hand into a frustrated fist.
Hartley looked down at the table, this was the part he had been dreading the most. "Unfortunately in order for her to live at all there isn't going to be a choice for much longer," he said as he looked up at the others.
"What exactly does that mean?" Gunn asked.
"A new problem has developed. I checked on Miss Burkle a few minutes before we got started here, a couple of the science guys were with me and ran a couple of scans on the bullet in her brain. It seems that it is slowly phasing back towards our level of existence, it's becoming solid again. If that happens, it will instantly destroy her brain tissue at its location. The damage will be severe and irreparable in the region that we need if her mind is ever going to be restored."
"How long?" Angel was the first to get to the question that everyone was thinking.
"It's tricky to put an exact time. The best estimate at the moment is around two o'clock, that gives us..." he glanced at his watch, "...about four hours, forty minutes. But that is in no way a definite time, we could have more or less time."
Everyone remained somber and silent for a few moments, taking in the new information about Fred's condition.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to work." Hartley said, his part in the meeting was complete and he was eager to get back to doing everything he could to help his patient.
"Sure, let me know if anything changes," Angel said with a nod.
Dr Hartley stood and left the room.
"Okay, we don't have a lot of time, let's get through this as quickly as we can and back to work." Angel was keen to get back into the thick of things. He wanted to find a way that he could help Fred. It bothered him deeply that he had been out of action so long and that he had missed so much. He couldn't believe she was gone. Before being thrown headfirst from the van he had been on a mission to save Fred from losing her mind to the bullet. Now the mission was different. The mission now was to get her back. "What about the Gunman?"
Gunn and Lorne gave Wesley a nervous look. Wesley looked down at the table where his hands were resting. On the back of his right hand was a smudge of the demon's green blood, he focused on it.
"Wes?"
Wesley looked up at Angel. "Yes," he replied. He sat up straight. "Yes. I...I have been interrogating him. So far he hasn't revealed any useful information." Wes looked into Angel's eyes as he spoke.
Angel knew what had been going on. He could tell from the way everyone was acting, and he could smell the scent of the demon's blood on Wesley. This was something that needed to be discussed, but right now there wasn't the time. "Any other leads?" Angel moved swiftly on.
Gunn and Lorne exchanged a look. They had talked earlier and decided what they needed to say at this meeting, with the look they told each other that they were still in agreement.
"We've chased up every possibility and our departments are still at it. But neither of us believe that any good can come of what we are doing." Gunn said.
"We've pushed hard, rattled a lot of cages and committed to a lot of favors and...there is nothing. Not one thing that has turned out to be of use," Lorne continued.
"Right now there is one lead, one hope, and that is the demon that hurt her. Every other lead, every other path, every thread has lead to nothing. Our people are still on it, still searching for that one little scrap that might actually go somewhere."
"Angel, yesterday I go a call from a girl named Michelle, she was a regular back in the days of Caratas. She was desperate and I went to see her."
Angel felt a spark in his chest, angry that Lorne had taken time out from helping Fred to do something else. He pushed the anger back, knowing that Lorne and Gunn wouldn't be saying any of this right now if it wasn't very important.
Wesley said nothing however his hands curled into fists.
"When I got there she'd been...mutilated. She died in front of me." Lorne had clearly been deeply effected by what what he had seen. "She managed a couple of notes and...she knew something. She was terrified of something. Not what had happened to her, but something else. Angel, she didn't have the chance to tell me but I know that whatever she was scared of is something big. Something that means big big trouble."
Angel nodded.
"She told me to go and meet someone at ten-thirty tonight who can tell us what she suffered for."
Gunn took over. "If there is a serious threat to the city then we need to look into it." Gunn was sure that he had made the right decision, but that did little to take the sting out of the idea that he was admitting there was nothing he could do for Fred.
"What happened to Fred is..." Lorne shook his head. There were no words to describe it. "She wouldn't want people to suffer because we were futilely trying to scramble around for some lead that doesn't exist."
"What we are doing has such a small chance of helping..." Gunn added.
"Gunn and I are going to go to the meet, find out why Michelle was killed and what she was so afraid of."
Wesley shook his head. Nothing was worth taking away even the slightest bit of attention away from Fred.
Angel took a few seconds to consider what Lorne and Gunn had said. Fred was in a dire situation, just hours away from being lost forever. Everything and anything that could be done to rescue her was what they needed to do.
But they did have a point, and their thinking was sound. Right now the only shot that had saving Fred was finding out who was behind all of this, discovering who had hired the Gunman to shoot Richie Evans. Just because Fred was down didn't mean that they could ignore a potential threat to the city.
"The two of you go to the meeting. If it turns out to be a wild goose chase you get back to what you've been doing. If it turns out to be something, and if you don't think that you can deal with it yourselves than don't hesitate to come to me." Angel didn't want to risk losing anyone else just because they thought that he wouldn't listen to them if they came to him with a major situation.
"Angel..." Wesley started to protest.
"Wes," Angel silenced him with a look. "We don't have time to debate. Let's go talk to our demon."
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Angel and Wesley were outside the secure room of Wolfram and Hart's infirmary. Angel was looking at the restrained Yaksix demon through the window in the room's reinforced door.
"Have you gotten anything from him yet?" Angel asked.
"No, nothing," Wesley replied. He wanted to get back in there and continue the interrogation. With the new deadline he was even more determined to make the demon talk.
"You've been torturing him."
"Yes," Wesley answered. "It's the only way to get him to talk."
"You tried questioning him, tried to persuade him?"
"Yes, he refused to say anything other than that we should kill him or release him." Wesley knew that he wasn't being entirely honest. He could have tried verbal methods of coercion before opening the tool box. But talking took too long. At the time Wes had hoped that the demon would break quickly.
Angel nodded. He continued looking at the demon. He wasn't at all happy about the way that this had played out while he was under sedation. He knew that Wesley had likely allowed his emotions and his desire for revenge to bring him to the conclusion that torture was the way to handle the situation. Angel wondered if he would have done things differently. After a moment's consideration he decided that if he had been the question master and the demon hadn't responded with cooperation then he too would have probably gone down the torture route. He felt uneasy, partly because he wanted to go in there and show the Yaksix true suffering.
"We have to try talking to him again," Angel finally said.
"And if he still refuses?"
"I'll do it. I'll make him talk."
Wes opened his mouth to voice his disagreement but Angel beat him to it. "Wes, your anger and grief is getting in the way."
"And yours isn't?" Wesley wanted to carry on where he had left off. He needed the demon to reveal what he knew right now. Time was so precious.
"Maybe it will, maybe it won't," Angel conceded. "But I'm in charge. It's my responsibility." Angel decided not to add that he could call upon his knowledge from the old days; Angelus had been a master of pain and suffering. Angel therefore would be a more effective interrogator. "It's how it's going to be." Angel's tone made it clear that this was the final word on the matter. "Now let's get in there and try to talk him round."
Wes held Angel's gaze for a moment. He considered arguing. But if he was being honest with himself he had to admit part of his motivation was that he wanted to hurt the creature that had hurt Fred. Instead of arguing he nodded.
Angel signaled to the guard who had gone a respectful distance down the corridor when Angel had asked for some privacy while he and Wesley talked. "Open it up. Lock it behind us." Angel instructed.
"Yes sir." The guard unlocked the door. Angel and Wesley went in. The guard locked the door.
The two of them took up position at the demon's beside. Wesley stood slightly behind and to the left of Angel.
Rex shifted his eyes to look at Angel for a few moments and then looked away, returning his gaze to the ceiling.
"My name is Angel. Last time we met we didn't have the time to properly introduce ourselves."
Rex ignored the statement.
"I'm in charge here. I understand that your name is Rex." Angel spoke calmly and politely. "Our problem is simple. The girl that you shot is still alive. Something went wrong with the bullet. It's still in her head and we need to get it out. She is a friend of mine. A lot of people around here care about her a great deal. If you know how to reverse it's effects then tell us and you will be free to go. If you don't know, then tell us who employed you, so we can find out from them. If you tell us what we want to know the Doc will patch you up and you can be on your way."
Angel and Wesley waited for a response. But none came. The Gunman stared in silence at the ceiling of the secure room.
"Okay, what do you want? Name your price. You know that we have plenty of resources, plenty of cash available if that's what you want. We don't need this to be difficult." Angel ventured. Already he had a strong feeling that this was not going to go well. He understood the frustration Wesley must have felt. The fact that the demon was completely blanking him was enraging. This creature had shot Fred and murdered Evans, and now here he was, refusing to even acknowledge the offer being made to him. "What about employment. Wolfram and Hart can offer you good work, a lot of interesting jobs, anywhere in the world that you want." Angel leaned into the Gunman's line of sight. "Come on, talk to me. What do you want in exchange for the information you have?"
Rex finally shifted his gaze, looking right into Angel's eyes. "Release me or kill me."
"There has to be something you want." Angel insisted. "Wealth, power...tell me what you want." To get the information they needed there was no price that was too high. Angel was willing to give him anything that was in his power to give. For Fred he would give anything.
"Release me or kill me." Rex replied.
Wesley shook his head. This was going as well as his own attempts to reason with the Gunman. As far as he was concerned any further questioning was a waste of time, at least without a bit of encouragement.
"This doesn't have to go on, you can get out of here. We're a law firm, we can get a mystically binding contract. This is a great chance for you. Turn the situation around to your advantage and ask for what you want. Think about this, think carefully about how you want this to go." Angel kept his voice steady.
Rex did not move and did not say anything. Angel had no idea if he was considering the proposal or if he was just plain ignoring it.
"Think about it," Angel said and then stepped back. He indicated for Wesley to do the same.
Angel rubbed the bridge of his nose with the thumb and index finger of his right hand.
After a short time Wesley got his attention and gave him a questioning look. Angel shrugged.
Angel wanted to take some time to think about how to continue this. He wasn't ready to visit the dark territory of torture just yet.
"Talk!" Wesley suddenly shouted at the demon. "Talk or I'll..."
"Wes." Angel cut him off. He then moved back into Rex's line of sight. "I'd rather not have to hurt you but if you force my hand I will."
"Release me or..."
"Come on!" Angel exclaimed. "Get this over with. Tell me the information I need. Do the right thing. Make the right decision. Tell me what you want , and tell me about your employer."
Rex remained silent.
Angel kept pressing on. He tried various angles of persuasion. All were met with silence or occasionally with "Release me or kill me."
Eventually Angel admitted the inevitable.
"Okay. Have it your way," he said to the Gunman. He turned to Wes. "Go check on Fred." Angel didn't want him to be here for any of this. "I'll come find you when I'm done."
Wesley nodded and without saying anything more he left the room.
Angel took a few moments to compose himself and gather his thoughts. He reflected on what he was about to do.
Then he set his jaw determinedly and stepped towards the demon.
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Gunn looked at his watch and sighed. There was about forty minutes to go before the meeting, which meant there was around twenty minutes remaining before they had to get going. He looked back down at the list of numbers and picked up the phone.
"We're doing the right thing," Lorne said from the other side of the desk where he had just put the phone down after another fruitless call.
"I hope so," Gunn nodded and dialed the next number.
Wesley turned the page of the tattered hardback he was reading. It was yet another book on memory spells. He still hoped that he might find something of use. He was sitting beside Fred's bed.
He glanced over to her. So peaceful. Looking at her you'd never know that she was so close to death.
There was still time to save her. Wesley hadn't even considered the possibility that they would fail to get her back. He vowed that once she was back on her feet he would not waste anymore precious time, that he would tell her exactly how he felt about her.
He had no idea if Angel was making progress. All he could do was wait and hope.
Wes turned his attention back to the book. Keeping busy.
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The closer the time of the meeting got the more Dylan Stewart's anxiety got to him.
He was again sitting at a bar, however he had moved to a different establishment. Dylan had thought that someone, a rough looking man with an expansive bush of a beard, was watching him. Dylan had slipped out when the man had his back to him and had come here. This bar was closer to the apartment where he was meeting Michelle anyway.
Dylan looked around at the crowd, searching for anyone acting in a suspicious manner towards him. After a few minutes he was satisfied that no one was paying him the slightest bit of attention. He turned back to his drink. He had decided against having more alcohol as he needed to keep a clear head. He had a glass of lemonade in front of him instead.
Again his thoughts went to Michelle. What if she didn't show? What if something had happened to her? He shook his head and gulped down half of his lemonade. She was fine. He assured himself that everything would go to plan; Michelle would bring help and while those people dealt with Mr White he and Michelle would leave Los Angeles, never to return.
Dylan smiled as he remembered all the romantic plans he and Michelle had made. Michelle wanted to leave the United States altogether and go to New Zealand. Dylan had agreed that it was a good place for a fresh start. Then they had talked about maybe getting married. Having a proper home. Maybe having a couple of kids. He had told her about a job he had heard about that would get them the money they needed to fulfill their dreams. They had taken the job.
Now Dylan wished that they hadn't. The job had led them here; on the run from a powerful madman.
Still, once this was over maybe they would have that fresh future they had wanted. Dylan hoped so.
First though they had to make it through the night. He looked around again. He wondered if he was being too paranoid. Then he remembered exactly who it was that he was hiding from. In comparison to the catastrophic horror of Mr White finding him being excessively paranoid was by far the more favorable option.
Dylan couldn't wait to be back with Michelle. He was desperate to hold her and tell her how much he loved her. He wanted to see her beautiful smile. He wanted to look into those gorgeous eyes and tell her that he would be with her forever.
Not long now until he would make that desire a reality. The meeting was less than half an hour away.
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The door burst open. Wesley looked up from his book.
It was Angel. He had green demon blood splotched all over the front of his shirt and a spot of it just above his right eyebrow. He looked utterly exhausted; both physically and emotionally drained.
"He cracked."
Wesley got up to his feet, the book dropped to the floor.
"It was Tramore, the arms dealer. He hired the Gunman," Angel said. "Get a team ready. I'm gonna clean up, we leave in ten minutes." Angel turned to leave. "Oh, and make sure the helicopter is ready to take off to get us there," he added.
Wes stood still. Finally it was time for action, and finally Wesley had a solid target for the anger within him. He took one last look at Fred and then dashed out of the room.
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Dylan was nervously watching the door. He was sitting on the sofa in a small three-room (living room/kitchen, bedroom, bathroom) apartment five minutes walk from the bar he had been hiding at.
The apartment belonged to a friend of Michelle. She knew for a fact that the owner would be away. Dylan knew how to pick locks so getting in had been no trouble.
He had taken a circuitous route to get here and was certain no one had followed him.
He looked at his watch. It was exactly ten thirty Michelle should be here at any moment.
Dylan imagined seeing her, a couple of hero-types in tow. He was sitting on the edge of his seat. This was what he had been waiting for all day. It was time to be with his beautiful love.
One minute past. Where was she? Dylan chuckled lightly to himself. She was only a minute late. A minute was nothing.
As he sat he unconsciously fiddled with his watch. He sat up straight as he heard footsteps in the hall outside the apartment. He was ready to leap up the moment the knock at the door came.
But no knock came. He heard nothing more from out in the hall. It must have been someone else. He sat back. Looked at his watch.
Two minutes past. He told himself to stop being so edgy. She would be here. She was okay. He knew that she was okay. Michelle was only a couple of minutes late. A couple of minutes meant nothing.
Finally after four and a half minutes of unbearable tension:
Knock knock.
Dylan bolted up and dashed across the room. He quickly unlocked and flung open the door.
"Michelle..."
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"Time to go our separate ways" Michelle said.
They were standing facing each other in a dark and empty alleyway.
Dylan nodded. He didn't want to be parted from her but he knew that it made sense. They were both in such terrible terrible danger.
Their hands were interlocked, holding tight.
"So I'll see you at the apartment tomorrow night, at ten thirty."
"Ten thirty." Dylan agreed.
"And tonight I'm going to get in touch with an old friend who knows some people that can help put a stop to him. Then I'll lie low."
"Be careful."
"You too. Be very careful. If he finds us..."
"He won't. We'll be careful, we'll keep our heads down. We'll make it."
"We will," Michelle said with a smile. "I love you so much Dylan."
"I love you."
They held each other close. Both frightened of what they knew, both certain of what they had to do.
"You are my world," she whispered in his ear. "Everything."
Dylan tightened his arms around her. "We are forever."
Then it was time to go.
They parted, and smiled at each other.
"My handsome boy."
"My beautiful girl."
They held onto the moment.
"See you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow. Stay safe."
"You too."
Michelle and Dylan turned away from each other and walked in opposite directions down the alley.
Just before exiting from the alley they both turned and gave each other a farewell wave.
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"Michelle..."
It was not Michelle at the door.
Dylan's eyes went wide and he staggered back. "No." Mr White had caught up with him and sent these two guys after him.
"Wait," Lorne said and took a step forward. Dylan took two steps back, a look of sheer terror on his face. "Michelle sent us."
Dylan froze. He looked at them, his eyes flicking between them. He took a few deep breaths. Where was Michelle? She was supposed to be here. Who were these people?
"Michelle sent you?"
"That's right." Lorne nodded. Images of her from the motel room flashed through his mind. Blood. Her hands and feet laid out neatly on the bed. Her aura of horror and fear.
"Can we come in?" Gunn asked.
Dylan spent a few more seconds eying them suspiciously before nodding and waving towards the living area. Lorne and Gunn went in and sat on the sofa. After closing the door and locking it Dylan sat in a tattered armchair. "My name is Charles Gunn and this is Lorne," Gunn introduced.
"Where is Michelle?" Dylan's nerves had actually gotten worse, which a few minutes ago he would have said was impossible. "Where is she?"
"Michelle called me last night asking me to meet with her," Lorne said. He had no idea how to approach this. The man was obviously very attached to Michelle. He wasn't sure how to break the news of what had happened to her.
"And? Where is she? Why isn't she here?" Dylan felt a black dread slowly solidifying in his heart.
"What's your name?" Lorne asked him.
"Dylan," he answered sharply. "Tell me, where is she?"
"Dylan," Lorne began and leaned forward. "I'm just going to have to say it."
The dread expanded into outright fear. "Tell me."
"Michelle is dead."
Lorne continued to speak but Dylan heard none of it. All he heard was that his true love was gone. He sat back and stared off into the distance The fear was gone, replaced by black emptiness. We are forever.
"Dylan," Gunn said. There was no response at all from the man. "Dylan," he repeated and reached out and put his hand on Dylan's shoulder. After a few moments Dylan looked at him expressionlessly. "Dylan I know, it's... it's terrible but we need to talk about what you know."
"Terrible?" Dylan shook his head. "It doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter.
"Sing," Lorne whispered.
"What?"
"Sing. A couple of bars. Anything. Please." Lorne implored.
"Give it a try," Gunn urged.
Dylan's eyes were focused down on the floor. Lorne was about ask again when in a soft, quiet voice he sang 'Hey Jude', the same song Michelle had strained to sing as she died. It must have been their song.
"Okay." Lorne nodded. Dylan looked up and stopped singing. "Dylan, I need you to listen to me. You need to tell us everything you know. I read from you that there is something very evil going to happen, that the lives of everyone in the city are on the line."
"It doesn't matter anymore," Dylan sighed.
"It matters now more than ever. Michelle died for this. She used her final breaths to tell me to meet you so that we could stop what's coming."
"She's supposed to be here. We're supposed to be forever."
"Believe me. Michelle felt the same way. I felt that she was thinking of you, that she loved you deeply. The best way you can honor her, to make her death mean something, is to finish her mission."
Dylan held his head in his hands, the heals of his hands against his eyes. Finally he looked up and nodded. He spoke in a flat, emotionless tone. "We took jobs as lackeys for this guy. The money was fantastic, and the work was nothing difficult. Most of it was just errands, pick-ups and deliveries. My grandmother was a witch, she taught me a few basics. I figured out that the guy we were working for was preparing for some massive piece of magic. I did a bit of reading and found that a lot of the stuff we were handling was associated with magic relating to the mind, specifically to memory and mind control."
Gunn and Lorne shot each other a look. Memory. That was some coincidence.
"Last night we got a warning from one of the other guys. We were told that the boss was killing everyone connected to the project. He told us that he had learned exactly what our employer is up to."
This was it: The part that Lorne and Gunn had come to hear.
