Part 2

The apartment was dim in the pre-dawn darkness, but it was anything but quiet. Darien was sitting in his brown swivel chair, watching the girl toss restlessly in her sleep as whatever images chased through her mind forced her into movement as she lay beneath the covers on his bed. She hadn't even been asleep for an hour when this began, so instead of crashing on the sofa as he had planned, Darien had dragged the chair over next to the bed to keep an eye on her.

He had more than a passing acquaintance with unpleasant dreams. He'd lost count of how many times he'd dreamt of Kevin's death, or of being captured and injured by any of a number of foes. Or, the most common one, of killing Hobbes. Even after all these months, he still would occasionally dream about killing his partner -- fingers wrapped tightly about his throat, a strange euphoria in his mind, a welcome glee in is heart. He hated those dreams and always woke up covered in sweat, wanting to call Hobbes to make sure he was okay. Hobbes was his partner, his friend, almost like a brother to him, and yet he kept dreaming about killing him. He simply wanted to understand why.

On the bed, the girl rolled onto her back and made an inarticulate cry that pulled at him. Alex was right -- he'd been thinking with his heart. All sympathy for her and her situation and not thinking things through, but it had worked out okay. They'd been at his place by the time Alex showed. The girl had asked, in a tentative voice, if she could use his shower, and she'd still been in there when he let Alex in. By the looks of the stuff she carried, she'd hit a twenty-four-hour Target as well as raiding her own closet for the girl. She'd had everything from undergarments to comb, hairbrush and toothbrush. She'd even picked up some socks and sneakers that she'd guesstimated the size of.

The clothes were ones Darien had never seen Monroe wear. Simple, basic jeans and T-shirts, several days' worth. They had obviously been worn, but were still in excellent condition. When Darien thanked her, Alex had shrugged and said, "Leftovers from another life."  It left Darien curious, but he refrained from asking at the look she gave him. He knew she wasn't quite ready to get that close to any of them yet, but she was getting there.

When the girl had come out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and looking bemused, she very nearly freaked at the sight of Alex. It was the first time he'd seen her quicksilver. One second she'd been there and the next, gone. Darien had quietly explained why Alex was there, and she had reappeared a minute later over by the sofa. Once she had calmed, she and Alex went through the items and tried on a few pieces to get and idea of how close Alex had come, size-wise.

Turned out to be pretty darn close, the biggest problem being that the girl was very underweight, so while it was a good bet the items would have fit normally, they were more than a little loose at the moment. But the two of them agreed they would do for now. The girl had a hard time containing her sheer joy at being able to wear real clothes again, ill-fitting as they were. By the time an hour had passed, the kid was yawning like crazy and Alex took that as her cue to leave. The girl had thanked her a bit shyly; Alex smiled, a real honest-to-goodness smile, and left with the reminder to Darien that he did have to be back at work later.

It was the girl who had realized she didn't have anything pajama-like, so Darien had supplied one of his many mismatched pajama tops for her to wear. She'd promptly taken over the bathroom again, though not for nearly as long. She'd come out looking tiny in his shirt, smiling at the length of the sleeves that she flapped at him before rolling them up. Her hair was pulled back in a tight braid to control the curls, which even then had been trying to break free. Her teeth were brushed and her mood was fairly relaxed. They'd had a small argument about where she would sleep, which he'd won simply because she'd started yawning again.

Sleep that was now doing her no good at all. She jerked upright, her hand to her mouth to cut off a scream, as every loose item in the room suddenly jumped. Darien was at her side in an instant, trying not to think about the fact that he apparently had one impressive ghost in his house. At first she tried to fight him, not completely awake, but he kept his hold upon her firm until she reconnected with reality.

"D...D...Darien?" she asked in a tiny, frightened voice.

"Yeah, just me." He let go of her, but she didn't move, leaning against him shaking in reaction to her sudden wakefulness. "You... Do you want to talk about it?"

She shuddered in response and pulled away. "No. Sorry to wake you." She huddled in on herself, her head tipped down, and Darien was unsure what to do for her. "'Chele." Her voice was so soft he wasn't sure if she had spoken or not.

"Huh? What did you say?" Gently he reached out and tipped her head up so that he could look her in the eye. For a moment he forgot anything else. Her eyes almost glowed in the darkened room.

"'Chele. It's one of the few things I really remember. I tried to hold on to who I was, but...." She trailed off, probably not wanting to remember whatever it was that had been done to her, at a guess. "My brother used to call me 'Chele."

'Chele? At a guess it might be short for Michele, but that would imply that she was indeed the much older woman from the information that Alex had turned up. Which made no sense, unless... "Did you say you don't remember some stuff?"

"Uh-huh. Just bits and pieces. I can remember the day I was grabbed perfectly, for some reason. I can remember my parents dying when I was a kid. A few other random things like that." She flicked her eyes back and forth as he continued to hold her face and watch her. "Why?"

"Not important." Darien released her, with more reluctance than he should have felt. "You need to sleep." He started to get up, but she stopped him with a hand over his.

"I...I don't want to be alone. Stay, please." She seemed so sad, so scared, that against his better judgment Darien found himself nodding.

"Just till you're asleep, though."

"Thank you." At his urging, she lay back down on her side with the covers pulled up to her chin. Darien lay atop the covers and curled up against her, his chin resting on the top of her head.

"Darien?"

"Yeah, 'Chele?"

"I can trust you, right? Really trust you?" She was sounding both serious and sleepy, which was an odd combination to his ears.

"Yes, you can. Now go to sleep. We can talk more tomorrow...umm, later today." He was feeling pretty damn exhausted by this point, and now that he was horizontal with a warm body to lie with, the pull of sleep was becoming an inevitable one. "Okay?"

Her answer was a sleepy sigh. She'd already fallen back into slumber. Even knowing he was supposed to get up and move to the sofa, he found himself unable to. 'She could wake up again,' he told himself as he drifted off. Besides, this was an awfully nice way to fall asleep.

"Why am I here?" Darien slouched down on the leather couch in Alex's office and tried not to yawn. Hobbes showing up at his door before noon had not been appreciated. 'Chele had still been sound asleep, the way Darien wanted to be, but no. Hobbes had apparently been awake for a couple of hours, tracking down information about her, and decided that it couldn't wait one minute longer. At least he'd brought brunch: coffee, bagels, and cream cheese. It had been a start, anyway. Grumbling in irritation, he'd headed to the shower and rushed through his routine in order to be out when 'Chele woke up. He hadn't quite made it.

He'd come out of the bathroom half-dressed to find Bobby standing in front of the door, looking around at an empty room. Darien had only found her by quicksilvering his eyes; she'd managed to get herself under the pool table and refused to come out. Just huddled there, quaking in fear. When he glanced over at Bobby, who continued to guard the door, he'd shrugged.

"She woke up and I said good morning. She freaked." He paused, a slight smile crossing his features. "It's weird seeing someone besides you do the saran wrap thing."

Darien had to agree. Weird when they'd seen Arnaud do it, but even weirder seeing this young girl do it. He'd realized then that they didn't know if 'Chele suffered side effects, like quicksilver madness.

"Crap," he'd muttered. "'Chele, I swear it's okay."

It had taken a moment, but she'd dropped the quicksilver and then crawled out from under the pool table. After a moment's hesitation, she'd flung herself at him. It had surprised Darien nearly as much as it had Hobbes, who frowned slightly. Darien knew there was going to be a 'talk' later, one that was sure to involve fishing and piers, but he hadn't bothered to worry about it then, just got her calmed down and talked her into going to get dressed.

When she'd gotten to her feet, she'd turned to Bobby. Meeting his eyes for all of a second, she'd mumbled, "Sorry," before bolting to the bathroom.

Darien had gotten to his feet and finished dressing, doing his best to ignore the comments he knew were sure to be coming from Bobby. "Later, Hobbes. Once I'm conscious."

"You better be careful, my friend. I have a funny feeling about her." Hobbes had moved away from the door and into the kitchen, where he sipped at one of the coffees.

"Me too," Darien had said, glancing at the closed bathroom door. "I'm just not sure what it means."

"Fawkes, we got some leads and thought you might like to know what was going on." Alex answered as she typed at the computer. "We traced the car she'd been driving. It was reported stolen from a farm southeast of the city yesterday morning."

"And? We kinda figured it wasn't hers." After some of the things 'Chele had said, it was pretty obvious she'd made some sort of escape from wherever she had been, and then been tracked down somehow.

"Crap."

"What, Fawkes?" Hobbes asked from where he sat next to Alex, looking over the information on the computer screen.

"They tracked her. She must have..."

Alex cut him off. "We found it sewn into the lining of the jump suit and deactivated it. We found a few other things, as well; Eberts is checking them out." She turned to look at Darien, who was still tired enough to not quite keep up with what was going on, especially when he had yet to be given all the information they had. "We think it's a data chip, perhaps for ID purposes, which suggests there may be more like her out there."

"That's not good." Darien got to his feet, finally deciding he'd better take a real interest in things. Snagging a chair, he moved it over by the computer and sat down. "Just tell me what we do know."

"Not enough. And little that makes sense," Hobbes answered honestly.

"All right. I looked a bit further into Michele MacTierney. Her parents were well-known research scientists back in the sixties and early seventies, worked for the government at one time, but I can't find out on what project. The files are beyond sealed," Alex explained as she pulled up the information. "I got access to some medical and school records. Smart kid, started high school at age twelve. Her medical records disappear about that time, completely. Her parents died when she was sixteen, a car wreck that she witnessed. She finished college at twenty and then she vanishes."

"Any other family that we could maybe talk to?" Darien asked, knowing they had probably already thought of that.

"Couple of older brothers. We're trying to track them down." Hobbes rubbed one hand across the top of his head. "I want to know how she got loose."

"Could she really be this Michele?" Darien asked them. Admittedly he hadn't known 'Chele for long, but she certainly didn't come across as a mature woman pretending to be a scared kid. She *was* a scared kid.

Alex shrugged. "The fingerprints matched, as does some of the medical information, but it might, and I stress might, be a plant to throw us off."

Darien had a truly odd thought then, but after the last couple of years and all the truly weird stuff he'd seen and done, it was no more farfetched than anything else. "Could 'Chele be a clone of that Michele?"

"I don't know." Alex looked more than a bit uncomfortable at the thought. "Though that could explain the age discrepancy. That would be something to have Claire look into."

"No need," Claire said from the doorway. Standing next to her was 'Chele, who was shaking like a leaf in a Santa Ana wind. "She's not a clone, though she's not exactly herself anymore, either."

Darien got to his feet and started to move towards the two at the door. 'Chele glanced back at Claire, who gave a slight nod, and then bolted for Darien. "Whoa. Easy. It's okay." Looking at Claire even as he wrapped his arms about the girl, he silently asked what was going on.

Claire moved into the room and sat down in one of the chairs before Alex's desk. "Those medical records you got me were very helpful, thank you Alex."

"Not a problem." The curiosity in her voice was obvious, but she held her tongue, waiting for Claire to find the right words.

Bobby wasn't that patient. "Spill, Keepy. What's with the kid?"

"That would be the first thing. She's no child, even though her appearance and many of the test results indicate otherwise." She rubbed her nose and sighed. "Near as I can tell, her body clock was reset and the actual aging that had been done was reversed. Some test results came back with the older age, some the younger. And no, I have no idea how they did it."

Darien was stunned. This girl, this child that was shaking in his arms, was actually a grown woman older than he was? He found that very hard to believe, but at the same time he knew Claire wouldn't make a mistake like that. If that was the way the results came back, then it was true. "Then why does she think she's a child? The memory loss?"

Bobby and Alex may have looked confused by that revelation, but Claire didn't. "Most likely. They may have even intentionally altered parts of her memory so that even she believes she's only a teen."

"Okay Keep, you got me. Why?" Bobby was looking at Darien and the kid who was cautiously peeking out around Fawkes to look at the rest of them.

"Control, Bobby," Alex said, with anger in her voice. "Children can be convinced of anything. Chrysalis should have taught you that."

"But she was still an adult; some of 'her' should have remained," Bobby argued.

"Not if her memory was wiped. You know it can be done, Bobby. You had virtually the same training I did. You damn well know what can be done with reprogramming techniques," Alex snapped at him, making 'Chele flinch in Darien's hold.

Bobby opened his mouth to say something in response, but a quiet voice stopped him.

"I remember some things. They're just a bit muddled as to when they happened. In the memories I always feel young, so I am young." She looked over at Claire. "Does that make any sense?"

"Perfectly," Claire said with a nod. "You had no way of knowing otherwise."

"I'll tell you everything I can, but I don't know that it will do you much good." She stepped away from Darien, looking a bit more confident than before.

"Anything you can tell us will help," the Official said from the doorway.

'Chele let out a squeak of fright and began to disappear, the quicksilver flowing across her in reaction. Darien reached out and grabbed her arm before she vanished completely. "Stop it. You're safe here."

Somehow she did -- the quicksilver flaked away before she actually vanished. It was an interesting effect, which Darien had no idea how to duplicate. "Sorry," she muttered. "I...I...They used to punish me a lot." she admitted, with obvious reluctance.

"That won't happen here," the Official assured her as he came into the room and sat down in one of the chairs. Eberts followed him, almost like an eager puppy, with several files in his hands.

"Eberts..."

"Miss..." he began tentatively.

"'Chele will do. It's more than I've been called in years." Her voice only shook slightly.

Eberts nodded in acknowledgment. "'Chele, do you have any idea where you were being held?"

She shook her head. "None. I was never allowed outside at the lab, or near a window."

"How did you escape, then?" Hobbes asked, not caring about what Eberts was going to say next.

"They were transporting me for a... a... job. They must have given me the wrong tranq." When they looked at her blankly, she added. "I build up a tolerance pretty quick. Three or four uses of the same drug in a row and it doesn't really work anymore. I woke up in the transport vehicle and took my chance to escape."

"They didn't have thermals?" Hobbes asked.

"Of course, but they were unconscious by then." 'Chele answered, as if it should have been obvious.

"Bobby, quicksilvering isn't the only thing she can do. In fact, it's one of her more minor talents," Claire said to the room, stunning most of them. "You can tell them."

"Its easier to show them." 'Chele looked up at Darien for a moment, then closed her eyes. As he watched, she began to control her breathing, using a technique he recognized. Her eyes snapped open and every large item in the room lifted into the air.

The commentary was amusing. Shock and surprise were being expressed, from everyone but Darien. It was weird, like he had expected something like this. The items hung in the air, unmoving, then lowered to the floor without incident. Then she moved on to her next trick.

*Most often they use me to read other's minds.* It was her voice in his head, but her lips weren't moving.

Bobby jerked upright. "Shit. Warn a guy next time."

"Interesting talent," Alex said, sounding impressed.

"Very interesting, indeed," the Official agreed. "Anything else you can do?"

"A few things." As she held her hands about a foot apart, they watched a spark jump from one had to another. "I can sense, control, and use electricity for lots of stuff. The room they kept me in was moved onto its own power when they figured out I could trace the power lines in the building and muck with both the power and the phone system. Just about anything that has energy I can 'feel', I guess." she sighed. "It's not easy to explain."

"I don't imagine it is," Darien agreed, watching her carefully. He couldn't comprehend what must have been done to her, what she must have gone through to end up this way, with these... these abilities. "So what now? I doubt they are going to stop looking for her."

'Chele moved over to Claire, looking both nervous and hopeful. "Can you fix me? Make me normal again?"

Claire shook her head in apology. "'Chele, I can't, this was done to you years ago. You were, somehow, genetically altered and even if I found a way to inhibit your abilities, it might very well kill you."

'Chele's face fell. Like her last hope was taken away. Darien knew that look. Lived with that look. Saw that look in his bathroom mirror every morning. "Oh." Was all that came out of her mouth, then she looked about the room without seeing anything for a minute or two.

Even knowing, in some small way who she really was, she still reacted like that young girl she appeared to be and Darien hurt for her. Reminding him of Adam when he realized who and what he truly was. In the end the kid had been damn brave, braver in some way than Darien himself, and gone into that cryo-pod of his own free will. Sacrificing the remainder of his youth, and possibly his life, for the rest of the world. Darien didn't really want to go through that again.

"Claire, what about counteragent?" Darien stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching as 'Chele walked over to the windows and leaned against the glass. She stared sightlessly out at the road below.

"Darien you shouldn't be due for a shot yet, even after yesterday." Claire had gone into that 'you've been a bad boy' tone that annoyed the hell out of him.

"Not me. Her." He pointed at 'Chele with his chin.

"She doesn't need it." Claire answered. "She produces the quicksilver naturally." She raised a hand to forestall the question she knew was coming. "I have no idea how at this point, so don't bother asking."

"I should go." 'Chele said quietly. "There's nothing you can do for me, and they'll be coming after me. I'll just cause you trouble."

"Miss, you are welcome to stay. If you're willing, we may be able to work something out." The Official had gotten to his feet and moved a few steps closer to her.

She turned about and looked up at him with more than a little fear in her eyes. "What do you mean? I have no interest in becoming a trained pet again. Locked away when not needed, punished when bad, not knowing who I was, who I am." She gained confidence with each word. "I won't go back to that."

"'Chele, I think he wants to work an exchange. You help us and we help you," Alex answered, surprising Darien with the unexpected kindness in her voice.

"Yeah, kid. Your talent could be very useful 'round here, and we might be able to track down your family for you. Find out what happened to you. Keep those mooks from getting their hands on you." Hobbes added, also toning down his usual gruffness. It seemed to be working.

"How? How can I help?" 'Chele sounded curious, the fear receding to the background.

Eberts opened his mouth, but the Official intervened before the longwinded answer that was about to emerge could begin. "Later. Right now, I want to get you out of sight." When she stiffened, he amended his statement. "Give us a week to get you safe, then we'll worry about arrangements."

She thought about that, then nodded.

Darien guessed that there might already be questions about her being asked of the Official and that he wanted that layer of plausible deniability. If she wasn't here, he wouldn't have to lie about it, and if the excrement hit the rotating blades, she wouldn't be here to find. Darien was willing to bet he was going to move her to the safe house for a few days.

"I'm going to set you up at our safe house," the Official said, echoing Darien's thoughts. "But first we need some information from you."

She turned to look back out the window for a few minutes while she considered. When she turned back, she'd come to a decision. "What do you need to know?"

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