Chapter Twenty One
Issac Mendez's Studio
New York, A Short Time Later
Issac Mendez scowled as he looked around at the mess that his studio had become; nothing was where it was supposed to be. In fact it looked like it had been moved as though someone was searching for something or someone. Probably those misguided fools from Stargate Command, he thought thinking about his masters foes. They must have come here to find out how I know about Atlantis. Good thing Lord Ba'al found me first and has shown me his light, I hate to think how those blasphemous devils would have treated me.
After a moment he sighed and looked around again. His assignment from Lord Ba'al was two fold, both parts would be dangerous though the second part would be the worst. For it would be the part that could claim his life if his gods plan failed as he would be face to face with Sylar himself, compared to that the first part would be easy.
Wandering through the studio he searched for his phone silently cursing at the mess. As soon as I've made this phone call I am going to tidy this place up, he thought in annoyance. Though he had never been a neat freak he still couldn't tolerate a complete and total mess, especially in his studio, though he doubted he would spend much time here anymore. He had far more important things to do now than paint and drawer for comics and galleries, they were nothing compared to the feeling of rightness engendered by serving Lord Ba'al.
After a couple of minutes of searching he found what he was looking for. Picking up the phone he was relieved to see that it still had some power, but then again it was a Nokia, and in his experience Nokia mobile phones could hold power for enormous periods of time. Scrolling through his contacts he found the one he wanted and pressed the green call button before bringing the phone to his ear and waiting.
Finally he was answered. "Hello," Thompson's voice said.
"Hello, Mr Thompson, what happened to Bennett," Issac answered.
"Issac? Issac Mendez? Where the hell have you been?" Thompson demanded. "I've been trying to get hold of you for days. Oh and as for Bennett he no longer works for The Company."
"I see. I'm sorry that I haven't been in contact there has been some problems, listen I need to see you. I've painted Sylar."
For a moment there was silence. "Where is he," Thompson asked.
"From the look of it he's here in New York," Issac answered.
"I'll be there as soon as I can," Thompson promised. "Be careful, Issac if Sylar is in New York then you're life could be in grave danger."
"I know I remember Hiro telling me how he found me dead in the future," Issac replied. "I'll be careful."
"See that you are, you are very important to the Company Mendez, we cannot afford to loose you."
"I understand."
"Oh and if you happen to paint Bennett then inform me immediately."
"Don't worry, Mr Thompson I'll do just that,"
"Good. I will see you in a few hours; in the meantime watch your back."
"I will goodbye Mr Thompson. See you soon."
"Goodbye, Mendez," Thompson answered. Issac removed the phone from his ear and closed the line, before putting the phone in his pocket. Excellent, Issac thought, my Lords plan advances nicely. Lord Ba'al will be very pleased with me when I deliver him, Thompson.
With a smile on his face at the prospect of praise and a reward from his god Issac moved across the debris strewn floor of his studio heading for his closet. It was time to get out the dustpan and brush and start giving this place a much needed clean up.
Atlantis
Whistling a tune to himself Major Evan Lorne made his way into the mess hall in search of breakfast, something that he rarely missed at all these days. Regular meals were one of the best things about being stationed in Atlantis in his opinion, certainly it was a lot better than when he had been with Stargate Command and often been stuck off world for days at a time with nothing to eat but MRE rations and power bars. We get so spoiled out here, he thought as he picked up a tray and joined the queue of base personnel waiting to get to where the cooks were serving up breakfast.
As he waited for his turn he glanced around the mess hall, seeing who was here at this time in the morning. Bright morning sunshine was streaming in through the crystal windows, flooding the mess hall with light; though this early there were few people around. On one table the spotted Colonel Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon sharing breakfast while at another Rodney McKay and Radek Zelenka looked like they were having a bit of a debate over breakfast. Nothing new there then, he thought with a smile seeing the Canadian and the Czech at it again, for all that they bitched at each other Rodney and Radek were the best of friends, as you would quickly find out if you challenged one of them when the other was in earshot.
Turning his attention away from Rodney and Radek he continued scanning the mess hall and immediately noticed Carson Beckett sitting alone only partially focused on his breakfast. The rest of his attention was being captured by something that was displayed on a computer tablet that he'd obviously brought in with him. I wonder what's captured his attention this morning, he thought with a mental shrug a second before he reached the serving area.
"Good morning, Major," one of the people serving asked. "What would you like?"
Evan scanned what was on offer this morning and made his choice. "Ah I would like two bacon, sausage, hash brown and plump tomatoes," he replied.
"Not a problem," the cook answered and started to plate up his request. As the cook did that out the corner of his eyes Evan noticed Doctor Weir coming into the room, maybe it was some strange sixth sense that made him turn his head more to look at her. Strangely Elizabeth didn't look well right, as though something was wrong with her this morning. She looked oddly uncomfortable and from experience with Carson he could see the tell tale signs of someone who had a headache. Maybe she's got a migraine coming, he thought before turning his attention back to the cook and accepting his plate of steaming hot food.
"Thank you," he said putting the plate on his tray and moving over to where drinks were waiting. As he sorted out a coffee for himself he watched Dr Weir out of the corner of his eye as she joined the breakfast cue. Something was definitely not right with her this morning and Evan made a mental note to speak to Carson about it.
After finishing off making coffee he picked up his tray, got his knife, fork and a pair of sachets one of salt the other of brown sauce and made his way across the mess hall to where Carson was sitting. "Mind if I join you, Carson," he asked and almost chuckled when the Scot seemed to jump.
"Damn, Evan what are you trying to do give me a heart attack," Carson asked looking up at his friend and grinning. "Sure sit down."
"You seemed pretty intent there," Evan commented as he settled down opposite Carson.
"I was just going over some of the data Heimdall showed us yesterday on the problems the Asgard are having with their clones," Carson answered. "After running it through the cities database I've found the problem, the reason the clones are lasting less time with each replication is the cells are dying faster than they can be replaced."
"That was quick," Evan commented as he opened the salt packet and sprinkled it over his food.
"It helps to have access to Atlantis medical database," Carson replied with a grin. "The Ancients were nothing if not experts at genetic manipulation, with that in mind I've figured out exactly what needs to be done to make clones viable for longer; long enough for a more permanent solution to be devised. The Asgard needs something that will repair damaged cells before they can die off or instantly replace them if they do die."
"I'm no expert on these things, Carson," Evan answered. "But wouldn't some aspects of Wraith DNA do it? There ability to heal from almost any injury sounds just like what the Asgard need."
"Unfortunately that comes from the Iratus bug DNA elements and from analysis done of Wraith DNA is linked to the part of their genetic structure that requires them to steal life force from other beings."
"The Asgard would never go for something like that then."
"Nope but maybe…" Carson's voice trailed off and the Scottish metahuman frowned thoughtfully. "That might do it unfortunately its one of the rarest metahuman abilities about."
"What is it," Evan asked curious. He was always intense interested in their abilities of their kind, whether they were physical abilities like his super speed or mental abilities like Carson's empathic telepathy.
Carson was about to answer when a sudden commotion caught both of their attention, looking over they both saw that Elizabeth Weir had dropped her breakfast tray on the floor, and was clutching at the sides of her head, features contorted in pain. Carson started to get up to go to her assistance, even as everyone else in the mess hall started to get up themselves, John Sheppard foremost amongst them.
That was when Elizabeth screamed, a hail pitched wail of pain that was more than just a verbal cry. Simultaneously everyone heard it not just with their ears but inside their heads as well. In that same instant Elizabeth's eyes rolled backwards in her head and she collapsed to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Carson was halfway to her just as she hit the deck and quickly toggled his ear piece. "This is Doctor Beckett I need a medical team in the mess hall immediately," he said.
"On our way, doctor," the nurse on duty answered just as Carson reached Elizabeth's side and began doing his best to access her condition even as a concerned murmuring began to make its way through the mess hall. Unlike everyone else here he knew precisely what had just happened to Elizabeth, her dormant metahuman abilities had manifested themselves and to top it off they were telepathic in nature as evidenced by the mental wail of distress. Telepath I should have guessed, Elizabeth would end up with an ability like my beloved Carolyn, he thought, it suits her.
"How is she doc," Colonel Sheppard abruptly asked from behind him and Carson could feel the waves of concern coming off him almost as if they were physical objects. They rebounded off his mental shields like ocean waves rebounding off a solid rock wall.
"I can't be sure until I get her to the infirmary," he answered while continuing to check Elizabeth over.
"What happened," Teyla asked. "I heard her scream in my head."
"So did I," Ronon added.
"Everyone in here probably did," Carson answered. "But now is not the time for explanations."
Sheppard scowled and was tempted to demand one anyway but after thinking about it for a moment decided against it. He knew from past experience that he would either be ignored by the Scotsman or worse get a sharp, acid laced comment back that rivalled any of a Rodney's barbed comments. So he said nothing but only watched and worried as Carson carefully checked Elizabeth's vitals as much as he could without access to medical equipment. Where the hell is the medical team, he thought.
As if in answer five members of the expeditions medical personnel – the still settling in Doctor Jennifer Keller in the lead – came into the room on a run. Reluctantly Sheppard took a few steps back as they made a beeline straight to Carson and the cities CMO began issuing instructions; instructions that quickly had the nurses assembling a portable stretcher from their backpacks while Jennifer knelt down and helped Carson as much as she was able to.
In no time at all they were transferring Elizabeth onto the stretcher and carrying her out of the room the eyes of everyone in the room following them as they left. Sheppard started to follow only for Lorne to step into his path.
"It wouldn't be a good idea to go after them right now, sir," Evan said. Sheppard ignored him and slipped past him, or tried to as seemingly faster than he could blink Lorne was back in front of him again.
"Get out of my way, Lorne," Sheppard growled glaring at his super speeding second in command.
"You can't help, Elizabeth now, sir," Evan said reasonably. "If you go to the infirmary now you would only be getting in the way of, Carson and the medical team. He'll only end up throwing you out."
"Lorne's right, John," Rodney added making Sheppard jump slightly as he hadn't realised that the Canadian genius had come up to join them.
"Fine, fine," Sheppard growled reluctantly giving in. "What the hell happened to her?"
"My guess is she just manifested a special ability," Evan answered. "You would have to speak to, Carson to be sure but I suspect that its telepathy going on the mental scream everyone heard."
"Telepathy," Sheppard repeated then his eyes widened as the realisation of what meant dawned on him, banishing his concern for a moment in a wave of sheer disbelief. "You mean..."
"Elizabeth is a metahuman like me and Carson, yes," Evan finished for him then shook his head. "I wondered if she was going to be one of the others."
"The others?"
"Remember, Carson mentioned in our last staff meeting before the Asgard decided to grace us with their presence that there are a number of dormant metahumans here in Atlantis," Rodney reminded him. "Elizabeth is obviously one of them, though equally obviously not so dormant anymore."
"I remember," Sheppard admitted then sighed. "But why now?"
Lorne shrugged. "That's the six billion dollar question that can never be answered," he said. "No one ever knows what causes our abilities to spontaneously activate just that it happens. Sometimes puberty can be a factor like what happened with my speed but other times like now it just comes like a bolt out of the blue."
"But why would, Elizabeth scream like that," Teyla wondered.
"If as I suspect, Elizabeth is telepathic then she'd have suddenly been bombarded by the thoughts of everyone around her within perception range," Evan answered. "From what I understand from, Carson full scale telepathy manifests as voices in someone's head, only those voices are thoughts. Suddenly hearing them for the first time would be one hell of a shock to the system."
"I think I understand," Teyla said thinking back to the first time she had first felt the Wraith coming, back on Athos when she'd been a child, the day the Wraith took her mother. The first time she had sensed that deep cold inside it had been terrifying and made her cry out in fear, she could only imagine how much more surprising and disturbing it would be to suddenly 'hear' the thoughts of everyone around you.
"Still doesn't explain why she collapsed," Ronon said.
"Actually it makes sense," Rodney countered. "It would be like a deaf person suddenly hearing a jet engine screaming at full power. The shock of that alone would be enough to cause pain and unconsciousness."
"This is all supposition," Sheppard pointed out calming down slightly though still desperately worried about the woman who was both his friend and his boss. "Though I will admit it makes sense. But what can we do about it?"
"Nothing, sir," Lorne answered. "If Doctor Weir is telepathic then the only one in this whole galaxy who will be able to help her would be, Carson. Granted his telepathic abilities are limited to a more empathic level but he should still be able to help her gain some control over her ability. Certainly he'd be able to help her shield her mind.
"In the meantime I would suggest that the rest of us return to our breakfasts," he continued. "We can see how Doctor Weir is afterwards. Assuming, Carson will let us get anywhere near her."
"Always assuming that," Sheppard agreed before glancing around at the rest of the mess hall and noticed for the first time that everyone had been listening to their conversation. "Okay folk's shows over, get back to whatever it was you were doing."
To reinforce the order he started to walk back to the table he had been sharing with Teyla and Ronon. Conversations resumed among everyone in the mess hall, though the subject had predictably changed to Doctor Weir apparently manifesting powers. As he slid into his seat John Sheppard thought about what had just happened, running it over and over in his mind. The more he thought about it and what Lorne had said the more it made sense that Elizabeth's telepathic abilities had suddenly, inexplicably turned themselves on. It didn't stop him worrying though, worrying about Elizabeth Weir and what this could mean for both her and the rest of the Atlantis Expedition.
Mohinder Suresh Apartment
New York, Sometime Later
Doctor Mohinder Suresh groaned as consciousness returned, his groan turned into a gasp of pain as he felt the bruises and cuts his body had sustained. Slowly he opened his eyes to find himself lying on the floor of his apartment, lying surrounded by a small pool of dried blood. Blood that he somehow knew to be his own.
For a few moments he lay there in confusion wondering just what had happened to him. Then he remembered, remembered how 'Zane Taylor' had really turned out to be Gabriel Grey a.k.a Sylar. How he had briefly disabled the super powered serial killer, only for Sylar to break free and directly attack him with his telekinetic abilities. He remembered being pinned to the ceiling by the monster in Human form, passing out from the shock and that was all.
Why aren't I dead, he thought awkwardly sitting up and almost falling over as a wave of dizziness rippled through his head, why hasn't Sylar killed me? Ignoring the dizziness as much as he could Mohinder fought to get his feet under him and stand up. It took several minutes but eventually he managed to do it.
Looking around he noticed two things immediately, one that the door to his apartment was open. And two that the external hard drive that had been attached to his computer and had contained the list of identified individuals with powers, and the computer program to find more, had gone. In its place was a slip of paper.
Moving over Mohinder picked it up and saw that it was a note:-
Mohinder
I'm sure you're wondering why you're still alive, well contrary to your opinions I'm not a heartless monster. You're no threat to me so I have nothing to gain by killing you, plus you have been a great help. Your work is going to help me to for fill my imperative – so call me sparing you a thank you.
But I warn you don't get in my way, don't try and stop me. If you do then you will join your father in the ground.
Sylar
Mohinder stared at the note in his hands, horror and guilt welling up inside of him. With that hard drive Sylar now had the means to find more victims, more people to kill so he could steal their powers. And it was all his fault, their blood would be on his hands as much as it would be on Sylars own. What have I done, he thought slowly dropping to his knees, oh dear God WHAT HAVE I DONE?
Elsewhere In New York
Sylar grinned hungrily as he made his way towards the studio of Issac Mendez, he wasn't the first person on the list that he had gotten from the good Doctor Suresh but he was the closest and easiest to get to. In a few more moments Issac's apparent ability to paint the future would be his, and after that he would go after the other New York native on the list, congressional candidate Nathan Petrelli a man who could apparently had the power of self propelled flight.
The mere thought of that ability made him hungry for it. He'd always wanted to fly and he couldn't wait to try out that particular power. But he forced himself to focus on Issac first; the painter was closer and was nowhere near as well guarded as the congressional candidate would be. Taking Nathan Petrelli's power would require careful planning, but he was patient and would stalk that particular prey for as long as was needed as long as he got what he wanted in the end.
After a moment he came to the studio, the door was partially open and he could see lights glowing from inside. Good he's home, he thought as he stealthily slipped inside. It only took him a moment to find his prey.
Issac Mendez had his back to him and was blissfully unaware of his presence, indeed he seemed to be lost in some kind of trance. He was painting frantically, pulling in a scene of an event that was yet to happen. Sylar stood back and watched in fascination his own core ability to understand how something worked coming to the fore.
After a moment Issac stopped painting, stood stock still for a moment then stumbled backwards as he exited his trance. As he did so Sylar decided that now was the time he should make himself known, he didn't want to wait any longer to get this impressive ability.
"It really is true," he said making Issac spin around to face him. "You really can paint the future."
"I know why you're here," Issac said. "You're the one who is going to try and kill me."
"Correct," Sylar replied impressed by the painter's coolness, there were very few who knew who he was that could look him in the eye with a seeming total lack of fear. "You know this is usually the part where people start screaming."
"Why should I," Issac asked taking a small remote of some sort from his pocket and pressing a button there. "I have nothing to fear from you. My lord won't let you hurt me, Sylar."
Sylar raised an eyebrow. "Is that so," he asked in mild amusement. "And how is a metaphysical being supposed to stop me?"
"You'll see," Issac replied picking up a metallic device that looked like a coiled snake from the table, something, some intuition told Sylar that it was a weapon. Smirking he flicked his finger to send the device telekinetically flying out of Issac's hand.
Nothing happened.
Surprise flashed across Sylar's face and he flicked his finger again and again nothing happened. The power wouldn't come.
"What," he said looking down at his hands then back up at Issac a look of complete confusion and disbelief on his face.
Issac laughed. "As I said Sylar my lord will not let you harm me," he said. "His power is greater than yours. Your powers can't touch me," as he spoke he raised the zatnikatel that Lord Ba'al had provided him with and pressed the lower of the two small buttons on it, making it deploy so it was like a striking cobra, "whereas I can deal with you."
Without hesitation he pressed the top button. A crackling bolt of blue-white lightning spat from the muzzle of the weapon and smashed into Sylar. The metahuman serial murderer shook with the impact, feeling ever muscle in his body lock up in pain as the energy of the weapon shot through his nervous system bringing with it a lifetime of raw agony. A cry of pain and fury was drawn from his lungs then darkness enveloped him and Sylar collapsed to the deck and laid motionless, consciousness having deserted him.
Issac chuckled slightly a moment before the sound of someone clapping drew his attention, turning around he saw a slim, older man with greying hair had come into the room. And he was clapping his hands.
"Very nice, Mendez," he said and Issac recognised his voice as that of Mr Thompson. "That is an impressive weapon where did you get it?"
"That isn't your concern," Issac answered and lowered the weapon though he didn't retract it to its dormant state.
"I believe it is," Thompson replied as he came down to the main level of the studio and looked at the motionless Sylar. "Is he dead?"
"No merely stunned," Issac answered before in a single smooth motion bringing the weapon up again, "as you will be in a moment."
Thompson's eyes widened and he reflexively reached for the Company issue gun that he kept in a quick drawer holster under his coat. He wasn't fast enough, Issac fired and the energy bolt struck Thompson square in the chest. As Sylar had before him Thompson cried out in pain as the weapons effect ripped through his nervous system, it felt even worse than at attack from Bob Bishop's electrokinetic daughter Elle, he'd had the dubious pleasure of being on the receiving end of a zap from her more than once, then his eyes rolled backwards in his head and he collapsed, landing across Sylar's body.
Issac smiled and lowered the zatnikatel, deactivating it as he did so. His mission had been easy, both his targets had been immobilised without him even having to break a sweat. Lord Ba'al will be so pleased, he thought putting the zat down while smiling as he imagined the reward his God would bestow upon him for successfully carrying out his will.
Calmly he picked up the modified mobile phone that Ba'al had given him and dialled in a single number before raising it to his ear. For a moment nothing happened then Lord Ba'al himself came on the line.
"Report," Ba'al ordered.
"My Lord I am pleased to report that I have completed the mission objectives you assigned me," Issac reported. "I have captured Sylar and a representative of the Company."
"Excellent, Mr Mendez," Ba'al answered his rumbling God voice sounding very pleased. "Reinforcements are on there way to you now. You have done well, you shall be well rewarded."
"My life is but to serve you my lord."
"As it should be, I shall see you in person shortly, Mr Mendez."
"I look forward to it my lord."
"As you should, Mr Mendez, as you should."
With that the phone went dead. Issac smiled and returned the phone to its place in his pocket a profound feeling of pleasure and contentment filling him. He had not failed his God; Ba'al was most pleased with him. And that made everything worthwhile as there was nothing better, no higher purpose than serving Lord Ba'al. Nothing not even Simone came close, she was just another misguided soul without a true god to serve. He pitied her and all those who did not know the bliss that was service to the greatest of the Goa'uld.
Yes he greatly pitied them.
Atlantis
That Same Time
Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard had a concerned frown on his face as he walked into the infirmary to check on Elizabeth. He had put a hold on the mission to find the Ancients underwater geothermal drilling platform that had been scheduled for today, mostly because he'd been due to lead it and he didn't feel comfortable leaving Atlantis while Elizabeth remained in the infirmary. Oh he knew Lorne was fully capable of running the city in his absence – he'd done it before after all – but still leaving had felt, well wrong.
Quietly he made his way through the infirmary, glancing at the beds that were still occupied by some of the wounded from the explosion and fire of a few days ago. The worst of the wounded had been taken off their hands, the Daedalus had left for Earth in the very early hours of this morning and taken the more badly wounded with them, but there were still a number in here recovering. Not speaking he exchanged the odd nod with them before arriving at a quieter part of the infirmary.
Elizabeth Weir lay sprawled on the bed, still unconscious and attached to sensors so her heart rate and breathing could be carefully monitored. Carson was there as well, gently checking over her vital signs.
"How is she, doc," he asked stepping into the room.
Carson looked up, though he had known that Sheppard was there. He'd felt the man's concern as soon as he'd entered the infirmary. "She's recovering slowly, colonel," he explained. "Her mind has been through one hell of a trauma and she needs to rest to recover from it, the fact that she was borderline exhausted anyway hasn't helped."
Sheppard nodded. "Why did she collapse like that," he asked. "Rodney and Lorne say it was from the sudden shock of hearing other people's thoughts."
"Aye and their right," Carson answered gently brushing Elizabeth's hair line before stepping away and moving to join Sheppard at the door. "Full scale telepathy can manifest in one of two ways," he explained. "Either it creeps up on you and you only periodically hear the thoughts of others, or it comes on all at once and you get a deluge. That's what happened to Elizabeth, her mind didn't know what was happening, didn't know how to suddenly cope with the new sensory input, so it just ran away and hid."
"I think I understand," Sheppard replied though he didn't really as he'd never been in the position that Elizabeth was currently in. "How long is she likely to stay out of it like this?"
Carson shrugged his surprisingly broad shoulders. "That's up to her," he admitted. "But as I said the fact that she was borderline exhausted from everything that's happened recently has not helped matters. She'll sleep until her body decides that it's ready to wake back up, all we can do till then is keep her comfortable and wait."
"What do we do when she wakes up," Sheppard asked. "She's going to hear our thoughts constantly isn't she?"
"Not if I have anything to say about it," Carson replied. "I can teach her the basics on how to shield her mind, so she doesn't get swamped by hearing thoughts again. But full assessment and control of her abilities, well that's something I can't help with as my abilities are to different to hers.
"The only people I know of who can really help her with her abilities are back on Earth," Carson continued. "They're the same people who helped my beloved Carolyn when she first developed her abilities and who with her helped me when mine manifested."
"Whose Carolyn," Sheppard asked and saw pain flash across Carson's face.
"She was someone that I was very close to," Carson admitted. "We were going to get married when she was killed in a road accident."
"I'm sorry to hear that doc," Sheppard said sympathetically putting a hand on Carson's arm even as for a moment he felt pain and sorrow, echoes of a grief that would never truly go away, grief that was not his own. It was only there for a second before disappearing and he knew, knew that for that brief moment Carson had been involuntarily projecting his own feelings onto him.
"Sorry," Carson said softly, "I didn't mean to do that, it's just hard not to when I talk about, Carolyn."
"It's alright, I know what its like to loose someone you love," Sheppard replied and was rewarded with a soft smile from the Scot.
It was at that moment that the cities intercom came to life. "Colonel Sheppard to the control room immediately," Chuck's voice said, "repeat Colonel Sheppard to the control room immediately."
"Now what," Sheppard said with a groan wondering what crisis was brewing now. Crisis after crisis was all that they seemed to get in the Pegasus Galaxy these days; what with the Wraith on the rampage across the culling world after world wiping out whole races of people in there needed to feed, and with the mechanical menace of the Asurans waiting in the wings.
"Will you keep me up to date on how she is doc," he asked as he turned to leave.
"Sure," Carson replied. Sheppard nodded and headed out of the infirmary to see what crisis was brewing now. Carson watched him leave and not for the first time noted how close Sheppard was to Elizabeth, a relationship that he knew to be based on mutual respect, friendship and a very small amount of sexual attraction. Aye I'll look after her lad, he thought before turning his full attention back to Elizabeth. When she woke up she was going to need him like she had never needed him before.
And he was determined to be ready.