Disclaimers: I do not own anything but the plot and the obviously original characters.
A/N: I swear it's been so long. I'm trying my best though. I hope you all enjoy. Reviews keep me going.
Summary: What if Tony was really as sick as Ziva thought?
Danny Sutton clapped mockingly at his chosen opponent in the Baker gym. He grinned at the scowl he received in response. The other man began to circle him; clenching and unclenching his fists as his scowl became more brutish, and the rage in his eyes turned deadly. But Danny was unfazed by this show of testosterone. He just spared his father Charlie a sidelong glance, and then with a will power not unknown to him refrained from moving, turning into a statuesque figure.
He closed his eyes, distorting his sense of sight while letting his other senses especially his hearing take a more prominent role. He opened his mouth to let a little be of air creep inside and give him the taste of sweat and dust. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled as his ears heard many things around him.
He breathed.
He blocked the punch aimed for his face with his left arm. He opened his eyes to see his rival growling at him and extending his other arm to deliver another punch. But Danny was quicker. He stepped back while holding the man's arm, ducked from the other punch, then pulled the man's arm, and flipped him on to his back. This made his opponent cry out not only because of the harsh landing, but also because of his arm, which was still being held by the younger man, had been twisted.
Danny laughed in good humor, and let go of the arm. He moved back to a safe distance, and then locked at Eugene Baker. The leader of the unit smiled, but it wasn't directed at him. The young man rolled his eyes in response as his senses kicked him in the gut in warning.
He jumped high, twisted and turned, exerted lower body strength, then landed right behind his assailant. The adrenaline pumped through him even more after sticking the jump. He growled back and proceeded to kick his once fallen opponent's legs.
The man he considered to be a brute crumpled and fell down on his knees. Danny Sutton cracked his knuckles and then wrapped his arms around the brute's neck. He squeezed until the older man slowly fell into unconsciousness. With this done, Danny let go, stood up, and smiled at the reactions of the others.
Most clapped in appreciation while others nodded in respect. Eugene Baker's eyes were gleaming. He locked his eyes deep into Danny's and after a moment he gave a slight smile in approval. This time that smile was pointed towards the young Italian. And then the leader turned and walked away.
Danny's smile faltered a little when his eyes found his father Charlie's reaction. The older man's face was mostly impassive, but he was keen enough to see the semblance of surprise and – suspicion. He let himself smile as genuinely as he could and averted his gaze from the man as he pushed aside his inner worry.
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Brian injected himself the serum with a syringe once more. He closed his eyes as it rushed through his veins. The sensation he felt was so complicated. It was as if he was floating and being pulled down by gravity all at the same time. It was a high, and a downer. The inside of his being was being burned and frozen, punched and massaged. The serum could kill him. But he didn't care.
"Anthony should have that too." Jasper said with a knowing voice. They were still in the Mall of Monuments, but instead of being inside Lincoln's Memorial they were sting on the steps of the memorial. The serial killer was sitting beside his friend looking out into the darkness with observant eyes. "The plague has been calm, but it will resurface with a vengeance."
"I know… But I can't give it to him yet. He has yet to come to accept being the Shadow." Brian replied as he put away the serum and the syringe back into his dress suit's inner pocket. "He needs to accept the transformation. He can't stop it."
"And we risk further endangering his life by withholding such information from him." Jasper mentioned with a smirk. "He's intelligence enough, but even the brightest of minds can ignore the tell-tell signs."
Brian touched the killer's neck, and placed his head on the man's shoulder. He closed his eyes as the memories of the past replayed over and over in his mind. A flood of sadness overwhelmed him at the prospect of those memories – those times of innocence being gone as the new began.
"Anthony will or will not," he whispered. "I bank on that he will."
Jasper, too, found himself reliving the past in his mind. He, too, closed his eyes and laid the side of his head on Brian's. It had been a long time since he last allowed himself to be intimate – with anyone.
"The future isn't set," he replied softly. "The future isn't set."
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James suffered for keeping up the image of being what his was. He suffered for portraying someone so strong. His people looked to him as their leader; the ultimate power that started and ended things. He was perceived as the immovable rock that could not be destroyed. He was the sword that could cut through diamonds. He was power personified.
He was raised to be what he was now. In a way, he was molded to be the Phoenix. Now, his parents would be shocked by his current position of authority in crime, because his father had been a part of the military while his mother was of royal blood. He was a child raised to be not only a union of his parents, but also of their two powerful personalities and heritage.
He was a gentleman. He refused to yell at anyone especially women and children. He preferred wearing suits in public particularly when conducting business. He was articulate when speaking in his broad vocabulary. He was a master of languages. He never cursed not even in private. His mother taught him well.
But his father taught him well too. He fought his way to the top. He stood up straighter than straight. He could lift more than his own weight. He could run a four minute mile. He was an expert in all forms of weaponry. He was a black belt in nine forms of martial arts, and was a master in hand to hand combat. He knew hundreds upon hundreds of techniques for interrogation.
Yet he had the paradox within him. He may never curse aloud, but he has thought the expletive words. He never yelled at first – only once or thrice. He wore jeans and plaid shirts when alone or with someone close. He was physically at his peak, but didn't like to exercise. He enjoyed improving, but hated practicing.
James was a man from two different yet similar worlds. The suffering he received came from his long held fear of being alone, and the fear of knowing that he'll always be alone, but never lonely. He surrounded himself with people that he could call friends or at least with people he could have a stimulating conversation with. But no one was able to fill that hole.
Somewhere inside he will always feel alone, and that gave him more pain than anything else in the world. It was a hole that only a few people could fill. His parents were dead. The woman he loved more than anything left him and moved on. And his best friend – his brother was somewhere else doing what he had told him to do for the sake of protecting his business and himself.
He could barely contain the deep sadness and hurt he felt when he wasn't with either of those four people. The pain stretched through his heart and cut his soul over and over until one of them came.
Only one of them left.
Lorne was the only one left.
I won't lose you too.
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Quinn Delaney titled his head as he looked down at the headstone before him. He laid his hand on it, and read the epitaph as a soft crow entered his keen ears. He turned from the grave and back.
He lifted the gun and shot the headstone. The bullet was engraved on the space that was between Caitlin and Todd.
He smiled knowingly.
I'm coming for you, Shadow...
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TBC
End-note: I hope you all enjoyed this. I know it was a short chapter. But I hope you liked it anyways. Reviews are a high!