Trekking out into the darkness in the middle of the night, out of the nice, comfortable kitchen, wasn't much fun for anyone. Especially not with Six growling and muttering about how they were losing time and how she didn't like the new hotel she herself had picked out. Especially not with John tripping over his own feet, mooning and constantly peering back over his shoulder. And especially not with a hangover.
Tyler had never really drunken before – truthfully, he'd never had much of a chance. Sure, he'd had alcohol before, but he'd never had the experience of getting raging, rip-roaring, dead drunk. He hadn't been aiming to tonight either, he'd actually thought he'd been pretty moderate.
His piercing headache begged to differ.
The rest of the night was a blur, one of tramping by the roadside in their seemingly endless quest for somewhere to spend the night. Tyler felt ready to strangle Six every time they past yet another motel she wouldn't let them stay at.
Finally, they reached the hotel, taking forever at the front desk, having to use real cash since Teresa seemed still too tipsy to reliably copy money, but at last reached the actual rooms – with actual beds – upon which Tyler promptly flopped.
He heard Patrick walk in as well and close the door, each movement like a thunderclap. Of course he normally had enhanced hearing, but this, this was like it was magnified by ten through a top notch stereo. He buried his head in a pillow in an attempt to make the throbbing stop.
"Tyler?"
That was him. That was his name. Unfortunately.
"Yes?" came back his muffled voice. Normally dialogue with Patrick was conducted formally, respectfully. But at the moment, Tyler wasn't in shape for any dialogue, let alone a respectful one.
"Sit up."
Tyler groaned. "I can't." He wasn't trying to be difficult, much. He honestly didn't feel capable of sitting up, or doing much of anything besides lying there in misery.
But Patrick didn't reply, simply waiting. That was the thing about Patrick. He could wait till the end of the world, he had ounces more patience than even the most stubborn Tyler. So Tyler sat up. He felt like crap. Which, really, wasn't any worse than he'd felt lying down.
"We need to talk Tyler." Patrick said gravely.
Tyler closed his eyes for a second. He should have guessed this was coming.
"You're in no shape for a fight."
"I'll be okay in the morning."
"You will be. But if the Mogs attacked right now, you would lose."
Tyler knew Patrick was right. He always was. It was pointless to try to defend himself. "I don't think the Mogs are going to attack tonight."
"You always have to be prepared."
"I don't think one night of fun – not even a whole night, a few hours – are going to kill me."
"One second is all it takes."
"Well, if it ever got to that, you would protect me." It was a fact that Tyler didn't even want to admit. He liked to believe that he was self-reliant, independent. But he supposed he'd already lost that case.
"I won't always be here. You have to learn. You have to be ready. And you have to watch out for the others."
"The others?" Tyler asked, raising his head to make eye-contact. The rest he had been expecting. The rest he already knew.
"Teresa's not trained. You know that. You're responsible for her. And tonight, you would not have been able to protect her."
The danger himself he could scoff off, argue away. But putting the others in danger – that thought was a bit more sobering.
"I'm sorry." Tyler admitted at last. "I screwed up. I wasn't thinking."
"You must be more careful in the future." Patrick intoned. "Second chances are a luxury not often given."
"I know. I'll be more careful."
He could hardly fathom the situation Tyler had described. All his life he had been the one the Mogs wanted, the one who needed to be protected. Now suddenly there were others.
Tyler told himself that he would have been horrified at his irresponsibility if it had been any of the others. But . . . it hadn't been just any of them.
"Patrick?" Tyler said hesitantly. Patrick raised his head, meeting Tyler's gaze. "How does . . . imprinting . . . do you, know, right away?" Tyler carefully asked.
Patrick stared off thoughtfully for a few seconds. "There are many varying views on imprinting." He said at last. "Some scorn its very existence. But the traditional view is that imprinting is absolute, certain, a single person for life."
That was one of the many great aspects of Patrick. When someone screwed up, Patrick would have his say, and, if the person was reasonable about it, move on, practically instantly. No hard feelings. No grudges. It wasn't his type, and it was something Tyler couldn't have appreciated more.
"So, does it happen instantly?" Tyler prodded further. "Like you imprint as soon as you see them?"
"It depends on who you ask." Patrick replied. "Some say it is instantaneous. Others believe that, on some level, the imprinting is immediate, but that it may take time for the consciousness to come to the realization."
"What about you?" Tyler asked. He didn't really care about all the other schools of thought. It was his opinion he wanted. "Did you ever imprint?"
"Yes." Patrick said simply.
Tyler stared at this man before him. He'd never known. It'd never come up before. "Who was she?"
"Monica." Patrick said. He paused. "She is dead."
Of course she was dead. Everyone was dead. How could he have been so stupid?
"I'm sorry." Tyler said sincerely, wishing he could show it better.
"You have no need to be." Patrick said. "I doubt you ever even met her."
"I would have liked to."
This prodded a smile out of Patrick. "She would have liked that too, I am sure."
"Do you . . . do you mind talking about it?" Tyler asked hesitantly. Patrick shook his head. "Was it in the war? With the Mogs? That she died?"
Patrick shook his head again. "No, not then. She was a warrior, a cepan, as I was. That was the last time I saw her though, when we were fighting. But it was the Mogs who killed her. She died some years later, on a different planet, guarding her child of the garde."
"Oh." Tyler responded. It was rare, if ever, that their life pre-Earth came up, strange to talk about now, but not necessarily in a bad way. "They – they told you?"
"No." Patrick responded simply. "I knew."
Tyler's eyebrows drew together. "How?"
"She was my other half." Patrick explained patiently. "When a part of your soul disappears, you know."
"So, you knew." Tyler said slowly. "Always? Right away?"
Patrick smiled, indulging him. "Perhaps not the very first moment. But it did not take long, and, yes, I felt affection for her from the start." Tyler nodded slowly, and Patrick regarded him thoughtfully. "Is there a reason for this sudden interest?"
Tyler instantly flushed. "No, not really. Just wondering." Patrick nodded, remaining silent. It only took a few moments for Tyler to break. "It's just – I mean, I was wondering how I would tell, if I would know, if I'd imprinted on someone."
"Someone in particular?" Patrick prodded, apparently requiring all his long years of training to hold back a smile.
"No." Tyler insisted. "I was just wondering, if I did imprint on someone, which I haven't, well, I don't think, because I don't know how I would know if I had."
Patrick raised an eyebrow. "Well . . . there is only one specific person you will ever imprint upon. That will never change. How long it takes for you to realize it depends on you."
"Okay." Tyler muttered to his feet. "Not that I think I've imprinted. Not really." He glanced up briefly, another question dawning on him. "Does the other person always imprint back at the same time?"
"Almost always." Patrick replied, walking over to his bed.
"Almost?" Tyler squeaked back, staring at him anxiously.
"Yes. Almost." Patrick answered. He turned back, smiling at Tyler. "Don't worry. Even with you both dead drunk, Teresa still seemed quite taken with you."
Teresa rocked her head back and forth slowly, staring at the hard wood table.
"Come on," Ella was saying. "Six brought coffee. At least have some cereal or something. You'll feel better."
"My stomach's fine." Teresa responded. Six snorted. "It's my head that's bothering me."
"You want some advil?"
"No." Teresa shook her head some more. "Not that way . . ." She sighed, crumpling her face in her hands. "I just feel so stupid! What was I thinking last night!"
Six made another derisive comment in the background, which Teresa ignored and Ella politely refrained from laughing.
"Oh come on." She said instead. "It wasn't that bad."
"Ella, seriously, were you there?" Six asked, rolling her eyes and joining them around the table. "She was like a Barbie doll for hours afterwards."
"Barbie may not be great, but it isn't that bad, all things considered."
"Tyler must think I'm an idiot." Teresa mumbled, conversing with the table instead of the other girls.
"No he doesn't." Ella said consolingly.
"He was just as stupid as you last night." Six said.
"Not the best with the bedside manner, Six." Teresa grumbled.
"If you hadn't run off last night, you wouldn't need a bedside manner." Six pointed out under her breath.
"I know you feel like crap now," Ella said. Teresa moaned in acknowledgment. "But you had a good time last night, right? Doesn't that make up for it?"
"The pain I can deal with." Teresa said moodily. "But I made a fool of myself last night, in front of Tyler."
"I'm sure he doesn't think that." Ella soothed. "He's probably feeling the same as you – wondering how stupid you think he is."
"Besides, he probably doesn't even remember half of it." Six put in. "He was drunk too."
"That's true." Teresa perked up slightly. "Although," She twisted around in her chair, pulling her knees up. "There are some things I hope he didn't forget."
They both stared at her, waiting for elaboration, Ella's eyebrows raised and Six's eyes slanted.
"Like what?" Six demanded.
"Well," Teresa smiled slyly. "I finally had the excuse of being drunk to change into Heidi Klum in front of him. I've been dying to do that for ages."
Ella appeared torn between laughing and rolling her eyes. Six gave a wry grin. "Of course. Other girls look like crap when they're drunk – you look like a supermodel."
Teresa's smile only grew. "One of the many perks of being me."
They were taking a break. Six was begrudging them absolutely every second of it; claiming that they ought to have simply pushed on all day, considering all the time they'd lost last night. But, they'd made good time today, were on track to reach the New Mexico border by nightfall, and it was mid-afternoon on a bright sunny day in a beautiful, deserted park. She'd been outnumbered – the only one in favor of continuing. So they were resting.
But even resting, their group was far from unproductive. Teresa and Tyler were training. And Ella was sitting with Sam, their hands lying on a bench, fingers interspersed. Both were staring at them intently. Six ambled up to them, stretching out beside them.
"So." She inquired. "Anything interesting?"
"Her microscopic vision goes practically infinitely." Sam explained eagerly.
"Not quite." Ella murmured, her eyes not stirring form their fingers.
"I've been trying to draw what she's describing," Sam brandished a sheet of paper at her, covered in lines and squiggles and arrows and small cramped writing. "And your cells seem to be pretty similar to human cells," Now a phone with some weird, biology diagram was being thrust in her face. "But, it's kind of hard to understand what it looks like, without being able to actually see it."
"Let me see what you have again." Ella said, finally breaking eye contact. She studied the sheet of paper just as intently. "Now these things," she tapped a spot. "They're a bit smaller than what you have drawn. I can tell you what they look like on the inside." Her gaze snapped back to their fingers.
"The mitochondria?" Sam inquired, also staring at the paper.
"As far as I can tell. They look the most like what I think is the mitochondria in your cells."
"That's interesting." Sam commented. "I would have thought they'd be bigger, if anything."
"Fascinating." Six muttered. She took out her knife.
"Just telling you what I see." Ella said blithely. "You should talk to Daniel or Patrick. I don't know if they took much biology back on Lorien, or if they remember any, but they might know something
"Yeah, I will." Sam said, completely absorbed in his sketch. "There. That closer?"
Ella tore her eyes away for a quick glance at the paper. "Yeah. They aren't all the same color though – some of them are blue, but some of them are more greenish, and some more yellow."
"Okay," Sam said, scribbling the information down.
"Making a science project?" Six asked.
"Something like that." Sam answered, his attention hardly wavering.
"How's John doing?" Ella asked suddenly.
Sam shrugged. "Lovesick. He'll live, though."
Six snorted. "Maybe he'd get over it faster if he got up off his ass and started training like the rest of us."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "You aren't exactly training right now either, Six."
Six narrowed her eyes. "Well neither are you, human, so you can't talk."
"Oh come on, you don't honestly think I could train with you guys."
"Of course you could. If you had the guts."
"I have the guts." Sam said defensively. "It's just ridiculous for me, when you guys all have superpowers and I –"
"Think you can get by with a gun and some video game skills?" Six asked, smirking.
"Don't." Sam finished. "And you thought it was pretty cool the first time I did it."
"Because that was the first time I'd ever seen a human stand up to a Mog." Six retorted. "And, yes, I maintain that it was impressive. But that'll wear off pretty fast if you don't train. You need it just as much as the rest of us."
Sam eyed her cautiously, waiting for a hint of laughter, but nothing came. "I don't know how to start, I can't fight."
Six popped up to a standing position and extended a hand. "I'll show you." She said simply.
Sam glanced at his papers. "They'll still be there when you're done." Six said exasperatedly. "You don't mind, do you Ella?"
"Not at all." She responded, pulling her hands away to rub her eyes with her knuckles. "You gotta train."
"Alright." Sam said, taking her hand. "Then what now?"
"We run laps."
Sam stared at her. "Seriously?"
"You made it pretty clear that we have to start at the beginning."
"But . . . running? Isn't that what cars is for? Couldn't we do something cooler?"
"You want to train or not?"
"Well . . ."
"Get moving!"
"Okay, okay!"
They ran off, still bickering, and Ella leaned back, her eyes readjusting to the normal scale of things. Daniel walked up behind her, completely silent.
"Hey." Ella said, not looking up.
"Hey." Daniel replied, taking Sam's seat. "You alright?"
"Fine." Ella replied, turning to him with wide eyes. "You?"
Daniel groaned quietly, rolling his eyes. "Of course. What's with the twitching?"
Ella sighed, rolling her shoulders and glancing over to the rim of the park, where the forest began. "It's probably nothing." Daniel waited. "I just keep sensing something – someone. A Lorien, I'm pretty sure, but someone I don't know."
"Where are they now?" Daniel asked, tensed.
"They aren't here anymore." Ella said. "At least I don't feel them."
"Did you feel where they went?"
"That's the thing . . ." Ella said slowly. "It's weird . . . I felt them, for a little while, and then it was just – gone. I don't know, maybe I'm going crazy."
"Not likely." Daniel said, watching her. "How long were they there?"
"Only a minute or two. But it happened three times – but once was only for a couple seconds, I might have been imagining it."
"Or not. You're sure they were Lorien?"
"Pretty sure."
"Not Mogs?"
"I don't think so."
"Do you want to tell the others?"
"No." Ella shook her head. "They'll just think I'm crazy."
"Ella, you're not crazy." Daniel said vehemently. "This is just the way your legacies work."
"I know." She said. "But still – I don't even know for sure. And after that whole thing with Teresa, I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't trust me."
"But you were right about that whole thing with Teresa." Daniel pointed out.
"I know." Ella said again. "But, what I'm telling them is pretty weird, and they don't have anything but my word to go on."
"Your word should be good enough for them." Daniel insisted. "Six would listen to you."
"Maybe." Ella looked back towards the woods again. "But I'm not even confident in this – I can't expect them to be."
"Fair enough." Daniel said after a minute. "But you'll tell me if you sense anything strange again, right?" Ella nodded. "And be careful."
"Always am." Ella said lightly.
"I'm serious here. Extra careful."
"Yes, extra careful." Ella pacified. "And you will too, right?"
"Try my best."