Woot! I wanted to wrap this up in this chapter, but there were too many loose ends. So there will be a chapter 12. Thanks everyone for the R&R, and for still reading.
BTW, please forgive any errors in medical stuff.
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The new patient gave them some trouble. He wouldn't stay under the cooling blankets. He refused to stay calm, and it seemed he didn't want to answer any questions. After two hours of fighting off four nurses, Brendan Dean finally exhausted himself into a fitful slumber.
"It's about time," Jenna huffed. As a nurse, she had seen this sort of thing many times. Patients too disoriented to realize that they were being helped, not harmed. The basic survival instinct was always intact, no matter how technologically advanced the human race becomes.
She held the thermometer in his ear, waiting for the tell-tale beep. Studying the shivering man, Jenna saw bruises on his throat and bare shoulders. Obviously, someone tried to hold him down, and he had fought valiantly, judging by the bruises on his wrists and legs.
"Well, kiddo, looks like your fever's gained some ground," she said as she pulled up the cooling blanket to his chin. Grabbing a nearby towel, the nurse dabbed at Brendan's sweat-drenched face.
"Hey, Jen. Brought those ice packets you asked for. He finally asleep?"
"Yeah. Man, for bein' so scrawny, he sure is strong." Jenna shook her head as she placed the ice carefully around the patient's body. "Fever's being pretty stubborn. We get blood work back?"
"Nah, of course not. I'll go check on it. Doc Levinson should be–"
"Ladies! What have we got?"
"Speak of the devil," the other nurse chuckled. "I'll check with Marie about the missing persons fax, too."
"Afternoon, Doctor Levinson. Hey, thanks, Laura," Jenna nodded to the RN as she exited the area. "Patient was highly agitated and disoriented. I'm sure it's the result of a very high fever. We've started an IV, which he's managed to dislodge only once."
"Any blood work?"
"Not yet. But I'm thinking at least one drug is in his system. He's got a lot of bruises, but no other injuries. Slightly malnourished, dehydration... Poor guy's gonna have a whopper of a headache when he wakes up."
"Yeah, no kidding. All right, let's get that blood work back, and we can go from there." The doctor frowned thoughtfully. "What's his name?"
"According to the guy out in the waiting area, umm, Mister Brodsky, his name's Brendan Dean."
The doctor nodded, tapping his finger against his chin. "Okay, I'm gonna talk to his friend. Let me know the second that blood work comes back." He left the restless patient in search of some answers.
When he stepped into the waiting area, he saw a short, round man pacing near the door. "Mister Brodsky. I'm Doctor Levinson. Can we sit down?"
Lev nodded slowly, assessing the taller man. "Da. Yes. Levinson. Is good name." He grinned. "How is Brendan?"
"He'll need lots of rest, but I'm pretty sure he'll be okay. We're trying to get his fever under control right now. Have you known Mister Dean for long?"
The Russian butcher shrugged. "Maybe three years. He comes for lunch sometimes. That one does not eat as he should."
Levinson smiled. "I noticed that. Do you know what happened to him?"
"I do not. I see him a few days ago. He like pastrami sandwich, so I give, but he does not look well."
"Doctor Levinson?" Marie called from behind the nurses' station. "Blood work's back, and I found something on the fax regarding your patient."
The doctor nodded succinctly, and smiled at the anxious man. "I'll let you know what we find out, okay?"
"Da. Yes. My wife... She kill me if I return without seeing him."
"I understand. If his family doesn't show up soon, I'll let you look in on him. We'll get him settled first, then I'll come get you."
"Is fine. He makes me worry."
Levinson chuckled sympathetically, and moved toward the circular station. "What have you got Marie?"
"FBI sent this out yesterday. Must be pretty special."
"Yeah. Where's the blood work results?"
"Here. Looks like Jenna was right. Whatever the drug was, it seems to have metabolized."
"Thanks. I'll go over this. Is he settled in a room?"
The nurse shook her head. "Not yet."
"Okay. I'll take care of it."
"We're calling that number. Maybe someone else will know him."
Levinson added the results to the patient's chart, nodding slowly. He walked back to Brendan's side, watching the nurse. "He wake up at all?"
"Not really. Keeps talking to someone named Freya. No change in his fever."
"Those blankets working at all?"
Jenna shrugged. "Well it hasn't gone up, so maybe they are working." She glanced up from her watch. "His pulse is almost back to normal. That his blood work?"
"Yeah. Looks like he was given some sort of hallucinogen, along with something that looks like ketamine."
"That's horrible. Seeing things and not being able to move."
"Let's get him to a room. Marie's calling on that FBI bulletin."
"Well," Jenna placed the patient's wandering hand back under the blanket. "If anything, there's a very concerned man waiting for him in the lobby who'll take care of him."
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"Mister Blackwell? There's someone to see you."
"Audrey, I'm in the middle of something. Tell them to email me, or whatever."
Still angry, I see. "I hate to break it to you, but it's your fiance."
"What?" Jason Blackwell came bursting out of his office. Shock settled over him as he closed his mouth. Jessica Bennett had walked out of his life with his ex-best friend days ago. They had a bad argument, and she walked away. "Jess? What are– Are you all right?"
She gathered a very large jacket around her shoulders. "I– could you help us?" Come on, Jess! Form a sentence! "Me and Brendan took Keith's car and got away."
"What–" Jason held out his hands to touch her, but she flinched away. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Jess. Come with me." He tried to speak as calmly as possible. She finally took his hand, moving toward his office. "Audrey? Can you get us something warm to drink? Thanks."
As they entered his office, Jason took a closer look at his best friend. Her eyes had dark circles, she had bruises on her neck, and wore the same clothes as the last time he saw her. Jessica looked like she'd been through all nine levels of hell to get back.
"Oh, Jase. I'm so glad you're here! Did you know Keith is a bad person? He did something to Brendan – Oh no! Brendan!"
"Calm down, Jess. Who's Brendan?" he asked, easing her down to the couch.
"He's like this Secret Service guy, and Keith liked him better than me. Why did you leave me?"
Jason blinked at the shift in conversation. She seemed like a junkie coming down off a high, trembling in his arms, and eyes that wouldn't track. Every noise made her flinch, and he couldn't get her to focus. "Please, Jess. What happened?"
She looked on the verge of tears, when she finally focused on him. "Brendan's really sick. We gotta help him, but I left him outside. Too heavy. It's freezing out there! Bring him inside, okay?" Jessica stood and swayed violently. "Whoa! I don't... I don't feel so good."
Grabbing her arms, he lowered her back down to the couch. "You stay here, kid. I'll get him."
She pouted and smiled. "Not a kid." Jessica snatched his hand. "Jase, listen. He's kind of skittish right now, okay? I think – Keith gave him – us – something."
Blackwell nodded quickly. "Don't worry. I'll get him. You just lie down." He rose and ran out of his office. "Audrey," he tossed over his shoulder. "Back in a sec. Keep her there!" Jason disappeared behind closing elevator doors.
The bored guard in the lobby looked up to see one of his employers running pell-mell through the lobby and out the main doors. Skidding to a halt on the snow-covered sidewalk, he watched Blackwell scan the street. What is going on today? He rose to assist his boss, watching the man take off down and across the moderately busy street.
Jason spotted the black car, looking out of place, pristine and a faint dusting of snow rather than caked like the rest of the cars on the street. Seeing the car was empty, Jason scanned the street looking for a possibly staggering figure.
Nothing.
Running back inside, he was vaguely aware of the security guard watching from the window. "Sorry, Clint. False alarm." He stopped suddenly, snapping his fingers. "Hey, did you see anyone walking outside with no coat on?"
The guard smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, sir. Didn't notice."
"It's okay. Thanks."
Returning to his office, Jason found his secretary rummaging around in a closet. "Why don't we have blankets here?" Audrey asked herself. "There could be a disaster–"
"Audrey, don't worry about it. I'm taking her home," he said as he closed the door to his inner office. Jason perched on the edge of the couch, watching his best friend sleep. How had it come to this, Keith? When did you become so desperate? Why couldn't I stop him?
"Jason?"
"Yeah, Jess. I'm here."
"Remind me to thank Mister Richardson."
"Your Psych professor?"
"Yeah," she drawled. Jessica lifted a shaky hand to his face. "I did some extra research on kidnapping and conditioning. When the drugs wore off, I pretended to still be under the influence. Once Brendan showed up, he forgot about me, so I had less doses. All that stuff on conditioning and drug use came in handy, and I figured Keith wouldn't know about that."
"Pretty good gamble, Jess. But –"
She shook her head and curled up tightly. "The things he made me see... I –"
"I know, honey. I've seen them too," Jason whispered, trying to forget after all these years. It was Keith's way of controlling people, in case they didn't cooperate readily. "Are you okay? You want to go to the hospital?"
She looked at him again, pain and sorrow and worry filled her eyes. "Do you think Brendan will be okay?"
Jason had started to believe there was no one named Brendan with her. "I dunno. Maybe he went home?"
She closed her eyes remembering something he said about the subway. "Maybe." Soon, she was asleep again.
Fishing out his cell phone, Jason called his future father-in-law.
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Ants.
They were all ants. Here to do his bidding, whenever and whatever he wished. Keith Larkin sat on the steps of a certain non-descript building, watching his driver chase down a police officer. The woman was enjoying her sandwich until he came confessing to a crime.
"...I really did kidnap the senator's daughter. I know where Jessica Bennett is! Are you listening? I took her..."
She tried to shoo him away, but the man persisted. Finally, she slowly re-wrapped her sandwich, as if giving the man enough time to run away. When he didn't leave, she gave him a thunderous look, and finally pushed him against the cruiser. Pulling out her handcuffs, she told him his rights and threw him in the back seat.
The officer's partner returned, confusion all over his face. She explained the situation, and he shook his head. "Let's go. We're gonna have to eat at the station."
They drove off, leaving Larkin to laugh in the relative quiet. So easy! Brushing off the light dusting of snow on his clothes, he walked up to the building, flashing another man's badge. Ignoring the building pain in his head, he made the guard think he was seeing a missing agent.
"Hey there, Mister Dean! I thought you were missing?"
"Nope. Just holed up in my place. Wasn't feeling well."
"You could say that again, sir. You ran outta here the other day looking like death warmed over." The guard nodded, jerking his head toward the elevators. "Good to see you're feeling better."
"Thanks." As he waited for the elevator, Larkin saw the guard looking quizzically at him.
"Sir? Sorry. I'm just wondering, why come so late? You could've waited–"
"A case, Perkins. Wanted to get a file without all the questions. I'm sure you understand." As if on cue, the elevator dinged. Larkin hurried on, using the pilfered key card and pressing the proper floor number.
The doors opened, depositing him in a nearly vacant office. Listening to the minds, he knew there were at least six people somewhere in the offices. However, two minds were closed off to him. So Freya and Michael are here. This is about to get very interesting.
An office door opened, emitting two women and a man. The man is Jon Harper, and the petite one is Merriweather. The other must be – yes, it is – Freya. Larkin's mind reviewed images from Agent Dean's memory. Handy thing, collecting thoughts. Pain stabbed him through his left eye as he tried to manipulate his appearance again. Too many minds right now! Larkin ducked into a cubicle. He spotted a janitorial cart nearby, and a ball cap, rolling toward the occupied offices. Oh, the cliche! We'll see if this actually works...
The two women said their good byes, and headed for the elevator. Freya stopped, glancing around the office. :Can she hear me?: As the doors closed, she glanced in Larkin's direction, but didn't seem to see him. I must be quick about this. He made his way through the office, hoping he appeared to be janitorial staff.
Harper collected his briefcase and exited his office, tossing a 'G'night!' towards Welles' office. His mind was an organized jumble of reports and images. One was an image of a giant billboard. They know? How –
"Hey, it's okay. I don't need–"
"Hello, Michael. Long time, no see." Keith Larkin removed his hat and pushed the cart out the door.
:You can't be here! How–?:
"I'll answer plenty of your questions later." Larkin closed the door. "Right now, I'm doing the talking."
Welles set his feet firmly on the floor, preparing himself for a mental battle. "Nice coat. I'm sure Brendan Dean is missing it."
The pale man before him shrugged. "Perhaps. I'm sure he's too warm to miss it." Larkin pulled up a chair to face Michael Welles. His former mentor looked tired and drawn; Larkin was flattered that he had kept someone up at night. "Surprised to see me?"
It was Welles' turn to shrug. "To be honest, a little." He steepled his fingers, peering thoughtfully at Larkin. "Why haven't you gone? You could be far away from here, and no one would've known."
"True. But where's the fun in that?" His eyes closed suddenly against the pain slicing through his brain.
"Still having those headaches, huh?" :I warned you about this, Keith. You never listen.:
Larkin smiled mirthlessly. "I only listen to good advice. You have no idea what it's like."
"No, I don't," Welles said sadly. :I'd rather not be a telepath.: "But, I am a very good listener." Michael tilted his head, observing the other man. Larkin occasionally mumbled to himself before, but today, he not only mumbled, he also seemed to be watching something else in the room.
"Brendan Dean was your best student yet, Michael. But he still wasn't good enough to beat me," Larkin murmured.
Welles' brows scrambled up to his hairline. "Mister Dean is an agent of the NSA." :What did you do to him?: "He has no abilities, just an outstanding memory."
The telepath gave a wolfish grin. "Not after what I did to him." Larkin's head suddenly jerked to the left, as if something had suddenly appeared behind the researcher's shoulder. :How did he get here? Wait. No. He's not here. That's not Brendan. He is not in my head!:
"... do? Keith! Look at me! What did you do?" :Are you listening? Keith!:
"Leave me alone! Stay out of my head!"
The doctor tried to understand what was happening. Freya had told him once that hearing so many voices at once would overwhelm her in such a way, she could only retreat into her own head. Larkin's sight was turned inward; he was hallucinating something in the office. "I'm not in your head, Keith," he said quietly. "I can help you, but I need to know what's going on."
"That name again. She's working for you, isn't she? You couldn't find me on your own, so you needed a bloodhound to sniff me out." He let out a sound between a laugh and a sob. Standing abruptly, he backed toward a corner of the office. His head pounded with the beat of his heart. The office was filled with images of people from which he had stolen knowledge and memory and thought.
:Yep. Just like I thought. You're losin' it.: Brendan said.
:My question is when did he have it?: Elise said.
Laughter.
:I don't think he's comin' outta this one whole.: Bad Guy Number Two said. :My name is Ramsey. God!:
More laughter.
Larkin watched as the younger Brendan stood beside Welles, arms crossed, lopsided smile.
"What are you looking at!" He lunged for the invisible being, and Michael grabbed him.
"Keith! Focus!" He shook the other man, trying to get him to look him in the eye. "Where are they? Tell me about Jessica and Brendan!"
That did the trick. "No! They're mine!"
Suddenly, Michael Welles understood where he had gone wrong all those years ago. He thought the man wanted to belong, to have recognition. Instead, Larkin wanted to consume and destroy all those who crossed his path at the right time. "Keith. You cannot possess another person. You cannot possess their minds. They are not things to be collected." :Freya! Oh, God! Can you hear me?:
"Stop saying her name!" Larkin wriggled out of the slighter man's grip. "She's not here. I am!"
"We can talk about this –"
"Stop stalling!" Recovering his ground, he came nose to nose with Welles. "I will have your mind!"
:No. You won't.: Welles thought simply. He had too many years to prepare for this.
Larkin grabbed the doctor by the shoulders, completing the steps to enter his mind.
"You won't get in, Keith." Welles could almost feel the desperate beating against the mental wall he had erected. Larkin was stronger than he had expected, but unstable. He could see an angry vein working its way across Larkin's face.
Suddenly, as quickly as it began, Larkin's attack stopped. Michael opened eyes he didn't know he closed. The other man stood staring blankly, mumbling. "She's coming..."
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"What the hell are you talking about, Perkins?" Terri Merriweather crossed her arms, looking a bit angry.
"I said Agent Dean just went upstairs. Said he needed a file." :Pretty sure it was him, Agent. I'm not stupid. Been working here long enough to know –:
"No one's doubting you, Mister Perkins," Freya replied, holding out her hands. "Let's go, Terri!" They ran back to the elevators.
:Freya! Oh, God! Can you hear me?:
It was Michael, reaching out to her. :I'm coming, Larkin!:
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One more chappy to go. Wow. This was hard, but I can honestly say it's been rewarding. Thanks to everyone for their support!