TC2.htm Title: "Two's Company" part 2/?
Author: Melinda
E-mail address: keylime84@yahoo.com
Feedback: please!!
Disclaimer: All characters and settings from "Now and Again" belong to Glenn Gordon Caron, Paramount, Picturemaker Productions, and anyone else. I'm just a loyal fan. I do not mean any infringement on any copyrights.
Rating/Warnings: some violence, some adult language
Spoiler: not much of any
Archive permission: after I'm finished.

Lisa walked in the door to her home at around ten o'clock. Heather was watching television. When she noticed her mother, she immediately got up. "Hey, Mom! Did you have fun?" she said sweetly.

"Actually, I did. How was your day?"

"Good." She smiled. "I cleaned up my room and vacuumed it, and I vacuumed the living room, too."

"That was nice of you," Lisa said calmly. She could see that Heather was fishing for something, but she decided to play dumb. There was a silence as Lisa took off her coat and began to head upstairs.

"Mom!" Heather whined.

"What is it, Heather?" Lisa said, still keeping her cool.

"You're supposed to be so excited that I cleaned that you decide to give in and have that party!" she explained.

"Oh." Lisa turned and causally started upstairs.

"Mom!" Heather yelled.

"Okay, okay." Lisa chuckled and came back downstairs.

"Then you're going to have a party for Daddy?" Heather looked expectantly at her mother.

"I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did. You said, 'okay'."

"That's not what I meant," Lisa said, "and I think you know it." Heather crossed her arms and waited. "Listen. I did think about it, and..." Heather tapped her foot as Lisa paused. Finally, she sighed. "Okay."

"Really?" Heather's eyes widened.

"Yeah," Lisa said slowly. She was still very unsure, but gave in to the side of her that agreed with Heather. "I just hope I won't regret this!"

"Oh, you won't," Heather assured her. "Don't worry. I'll take care of everything."

Lisa gave Heather a look that said 'and *that's* supposed to make me not worry?!'

"Come on, Mom!" Heather said in response to her mother's look.

Lisa laughed. "Want to go ahead and make the guest list? I've already thought of a few." Heather smiled and nodded. They walked into the living room together.

* * *

Emily sat straight up in the sleeping bag on the hard floor. She had been sleeping soundly, but had been awakened by an awful dream. Her heart pounded. In the dream, she relived the last conversation she and her husband had before she had died. She had called him on her cell-phone her way home from work that day telling him that she was going to be late getting home.

* * *

*ring, ring* 'Hello?'

'Hey, it's Emily. I'm on my way home right now, but I have to stop by the grocery store so I'm going to be late.'

'You on the cell?'

'Yeah.'

'Well, I just got home.'

'Another long day?'

'Yep. But guess what! Since I've put in so much extra time recently, the boss said I could have tomorrow off. The boys will be at school. It can be our day. How about I fill up the pool and we swim some?'

'Sounds great.' That truly did sound great. The two had hardly seen each other lately except when they were too tired to do anything but eat dinner and go straight to bed. 'We can talk about it more when I get home.'

'Okay. I love you, Beautiful. Bye.'

Emily had flipped the phone shut and set it down. Only a couple minutes later, she rounded a curve and was suddenly blinded by a set of headlights. Everything up to this point in Emily's dream had really happened. The conversation on the phone had really occurred, and that had really been how she died. However, the dream dipped away from reality as she saw the driver of the other vehicle's eyes. They were red, and they danced crazily as if he was laughing at her. Then he was laughing, louder and louder, as the headlights rushed towards her and...blackness. Then she sat up on the floor of the townhouse.

* * *

She laid back, trying to calm herself down. "This is crazy," she thought, after she *could* think again. "I am a government project? This body isn't really mine? This whole thing sounds like something out of a science-fiction novel." Her mind raced. She thought of her old job, her kids, her husband...

Daniel. That conversation had last only seconds, but it was full of meaning since it had been their last. It had been the way he said 'beautiful' that stuck in her memory and now rang in her ears along with the laughter of the driver. It had meant so much, not that she had a perfect figure or an unblemished face, neither of which had been true of her at the time. It was a word that he used to describe *her*, her character, who he considered Emily Hanson to be through and through. And he had meant it.

She sat up again. "I have to get out of here," she said aloud.

She immediately climbed out of the sleeping bag. Michael shifted in his sleep and she froze. Then, seeing no further movement, she went to get some clothes. She grabbed a pair of jeans out of the drawer and slipped them on. Finding them rather tight, she had to hop a little to get them on. As she did, she tripped over the open drawer and fell. The commotion roused Michael. He sat up, reflexes alert. She stayed on the floor, hoping he'd go back to sleep. He got and walked around.

"What in the world are you doing?" he asked when noticed her laying on the floor.

"Um, I was just going to get dressed and...take a little walk around the townhouse."

"Yeah. I'm sure." He looked down at her, finding it hard to believe that she would get up at one a.m. for a little early morning stroll in such a small space.

"Okay, I can tell you don't believe me." She got up. "I just need to get out of here. Don't *you* feel kind-of trapped?"
"Yeah, but I don't think it's really smart to just go barging out. An alarm will sound and this place will be swarming with government people in no time. Besides, they put a tracking device in you and..." He laughed quietly. "Listen to me. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!"

"What?"

"I've flown the coup a few times, or tried to. I have always come back...or have been brought back." He began to whisper. "They can hear everything we say, so listen." He tried to talk even quieter. "I understand how you feel." He paused, making sure of what he was going to say. "Go. Have fun, but don't be gone too long."

She nearly laughed, but then lowered her voice. "Now you sound like my mother."

He smiled and continued to whisper, "I'll cover for you while you're gone, if I can. Maybe send them on a wild-goose chase. But hurry, and be back before morning if possible."

She went back to finding a shirt in the drawer. She stopped and said quietly, "Thanks. It means a lot to me that you would do that." She turned back, expecting to see him still there, but he was already back in bed.

Once dressed, which she had done in record time, she broke down the door, knocked-out any and all guards outside, and was gone.

* * *

Dr. Morris and many other government agents arrived on the scene before long. Michael lay in his bed with the pillow over his head trying to drown out the noise of the alarm. Dr. Morris shut off the alarm and walked over to talk to to the bed. "Mr. Wiseman." Michael looked out from under the pillow. Then he took it from his head and sat up.

"What is it?"

"Do you know where she went?"

"Huh?" Michael yawned.

"Don't play dumb. It doesn't work for you."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Michael smirked.

"It is obvious that you heard the alarm. Did you not see her leave? Or try to stop her? You must have talked to her."

Special Agent Number One entered. He motioned Dr. Morris to come. When they were alone, he reported, "We checked the tapes. Not long before she left, she said she had to get out of here. And she did talk to Mr. Wiseman before leaving, although much of the conversation is too muffled to understand."

"I see." Morris walked back over to Michael. "We know you two talked before she left. I assume you know where she went."

"Honestly, Doc. I don't." He gave his best innocent look. "I hardly remember talking to her."

After consulting with Special Agent Number One momentarily he gave Michael an ear piece so they could communicate. "You are to find her. We'll lead you to her location since we can track her, but you are to convince her to come back, or you must bring her back by force."

"But..."

"This is not debatable, Mr. Wiseman. We cannot lose her or we may lose funding for the whole project. The government does not want to fund the making of a three billion dollar body if it's just going to be lost. And in their minds, if one is lost, the other could easily be lost as well."

Michael shook his head in defeat. "Okay, Doc." He figured he could at least buy her some time, since he was the one looking for her.

"There's only one problem."

"Of course." Michael said with gleeful sarcasm. There was *always* a problem.

"If she does refuse to return, you may have a hard time forcing her to come back." Michael stood cluelessly. "You see, her being the second attempt, I made some improvements on her compared to the earlier model, which would be you."

"And..." Michael waited for the bomb to drop.

"She's quite a bit stronger and faster than you. If you had to fight her, you would hardly stand a chance."

"Oh, good." Michael said with as little feeling as possible and turned to go get dressed.

* * *

Emily found herself running to the place she always used to go when she had a bad day or just needed to think, a bar. It was a small bar, not too far from where she had worked and about a half hour from where she had lived. She entered and went straight to her normal seat at one end of the glossy wood counter.

The place was fairly empty. The bartender came up to her almost immediately. "What'll it be?" He was a rather big fellow and, most assumed, in his late forties.

"Oh...just the usual, Joe." Emily said absently.

"The usual?" He scratched his head. "Lady, I have never seen you hear before." He paused, looking her over. "And trust me, I would remember you, if I had." He whistled softly.

Remembering that she looked completely different, she corrected herself. "Oh, sorry. I'm a little distracted tonight."

"I can tell."

"I'll have..." She thought for a moment. She had always just asked for 'the usual'. "Do you remember what Emily Hanson used to have?"

"Emily Hanson." The bartender paused, thinking. "Yeah, I remember her. You knew her?"

"Yeah." She smiled. "We were quite close."

"Well, you want what she always had then? The 'Emily Hanson Get-Drunk-Fast Special'?"

"I've never heard it called that."

He laughed. "We only called it that when she wasn't around."

"Oh." Was she really known for getting drunk fast? She hoped not. She really didn't come here that often, hardly ever more than once a month. "Yeah, I'll have that." The bartender had turned to go get the drink when Emily remembered something. "Wait," she said.

He stopped, turned to face her, and raised one eyebrow. "What?" She sheepishly told him that she didn't have any money with her. He looked at her, rather annoyed, and said, "Well then, I guess you had better leave."

Just as she was get up from her seat. A man who had been sitting a few seats down spoke up. "What's the problem, Joe? Why are you kicking the lady out?" She stopped to look at him. She had never seen him before in her life. He smiled at her and then turned back to the bartender. "I'll buy her all the drinks she wants."

Emily never felt right letting people help her like that. "That's really nice of you, but you really don't have to do that."

He moved over to the seat next to her. "It's no problem. Really." She sighed. She really needed a drink, and this guy seemed nice enough, so she gave in. He spoke to the bartender. "Joe, go get whatever drink...uh..." He looked to her. "Do you have a name?"

"Emily."

"Go get whatever drink *Emily* wanted." He turned his full attention back to Emily. He had nicely trimmed brown hair and wore a nice sports coat. His navy blue tie was loosened slightly, but he had an air of class about him. He smiled and introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Tim." He held out a hand to shake.

She shook it, and smiled back. "Nice to meet you, Tim."

The bartender brought her a drink and she drank it quickly. It didn't take her very many drinks to feel the buzz of drunkenness through her body. Tim was continually ordering her drinks so she never had to wait for another to come.
"So, why does a beautiful woman like you want to get so drunk?" Tim asked, sipping on his own drink.

She laughed loudly. "Everything." Her speech was already starting to be slurred. The drink, the 'Get-Drunk-Fast Special', was definitely living up to it's name. "If you only knew what kind of day I have had..." She shook her head.

"If you want to, you can tell me about it." He was still sitting next to her, ordering her drinks as she needed them and being willing to listen. She thought it was really sweet of him to do all this.

"Well..." Something in her told her not to tell him. Inwardly she debated. Then she said, "Things have just changed completely. I mean, last thing I remember, I was happily married with two children, then I wake up this morning and..." She stopped in mid-sentence when she saw Michael walk in.

Michael had been as slow as possible in finding the bar, but once inside, he spotted Emily in the corner almost immediately. He could tell from where he was that she was drunk. He spoke to Dr. Morris through the microphone. "She's here, Doc, sitting at the bar with some guy. She look about as drunk as I was the day the train hit me, probably more."

"Go talk to her, Mr. Wiseman!" he said impatiently.

"Okay, okay. No need to raise you voice." He walked over to Emily.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were going to cover for me." She got out of her chair and walked over to him, wobbly.

"As I said, the place was crawling with government people just ten minutes after you left. They sent me out to find you." He paused. "Doc can hear what we're saying through the microphone he put on me, just so ya know."

"Mr. Wiseman, you did not need to tell her that!" Dr. Morris said into Michael's ear.

"And why not?" Michael responded.

"Huh?"

"I was talking to Doc," Michael explained.

"Oh, I see," she said, still rather confused. She grabbed hold of a chair to keep her balance. Her voice began to raise in volume as she said, "You can tell the Doc I'll come back when I'm good and ready."

"Emily, you don't want to do this. Doc could get mad..." Michael tried to keep her calm.

"I sure as hell want to do this!" She was beginning to yell.

Hearing the noise, Tim walked up next to Emily. "This man bothering you?"

"Yes," she roughly stated and turned away.

"Why don't you leave the lady alone?" He stepped between Emily and Michael, looking ready for a fight.

Michael nearly laughed. He knew he had no reason to be afraid of this man. "Look, I don't know who you are, or how you know her, but why don't you just go back to your seat and let the two of us work this out on our own? You couldn't protect her from me if you wanted to."

"Oh, I couldn't?!" Tim said angrily. He pulled back his arm, ready to punch.

Emily grabbed his elbow. Her head swam, but she knew that this was no place for a fight, and she knew what Michael had said was true. "Tim, don't fight him. He'll beat the crap out of you!" The she turned Michael, and narrowed her eyes as she spoke to him. "Michael, don't fight him. *I'll* beat the crap out of you!" Michael looked stunned. She collected herself and sternly told him, "I think it would be best if you left." Then she turned and went back to her seat. Tim followed, rather stunned as well.

"What do I do now, Doc?"

"I suggest you leave, Mr. Wiseman. We don't want to get you in any trouble. Wait outside the door and try to catch her by surprise."

"Okay. You're the boss," he said. He was a little unsure if that would work, but exited the bar anyway. "So, you told her she was stronger than me?"

"I may have mentioned it, yes." Dr. Morris sounded almost ashamed of his mistake.

"Good job, Doc," Michael said sarcastically.

Inside, Emily downed another drink, and got up to leave. "I really should go. Thank you so..." Her head spun as she lost all balance. She tried to grasp for the chair, but missed. Everything went black.

Joe came over to see what was up. He looked at Tim. "She had one too many, huh?"

"I guess so," Tim responded as he picked her up. "I think I'll take her home."

"You know where she lives?" Joe questioned.

"I'll figure it out." He paid for the drinks and began to leave. "I'm gonna head out the back way since my car's out there, okay?"

"Sure. See ya, Tim!" The bartender went back to wiping the counter.

* * *

"She's moving, Mr. Wiseman," Dr. Morris spoke into Michael's ear. "Can you see her?"

"Nope. She must not be coming out this door." He sarcastically added, "Darn, I don't get to ambush my new friend."

"Mr. Wiseman, try to find her. She has to have left the bar. Don't you see anything?!"

"No, Doc, I don't see her. A car just drove out through from the back parking lot behind this place, though."

"Do you see her in it?"

"All I see is that friend of hers, Tim."

Dr. Morris thought for a moment. "Go ask the bartender where she went."

Michael entered the bar again. The bartender looked up and scowled at him. "I don't appreciate trouble-makers in my bar."

"I guess you saw that little scene." Joe nodded. Michael smiled and tried to explain. "I never meant to cause any trouble. I'm just looking out for Emily."

"So, who are you? Big brother? Boyfriend?" the bartender asked impatiently.

"No, just a friend." Michael said honestly.

"Sure." It was obvious he didn't believe that. "I'm guessing ex-boyfriend."

"Well, guess whatever you want. Could you just tell me where she went?"

"No, I probably shouldn't do that."

Michael sat down and leaned toward the bartender. "I think you should tell me where she went." Michael's eyes were intense. His voice was stern.

The bartender backed away. "Okay, buddy. Calm down." He sighed. "She passed-out. That Tim guy said he'd take her home."

"She passed-out?" Michael sat back. "Why? How?"

"One too many 'Get-Drunk-Fast Specials' I guess."

Dr. Morris spoke to Michael. "That's impossible. That body could handle more alcohol than nearly five humans."

"Uh-huh," Michael responded to both the doctor and the bartender. "And how could this Tim guy know where she lives?"

"Beats me. He said he'd 'figure it out'." The bartender went back to wiping the table. "Listen. I don't have anymore information for you, whoever you are, and I really shouldn't have told you what I did."

Michael stood. "Okay, I'll leave. Thank you," he said flatly and exited the bar calmly.

"Now what?" Michael asked the doctor once he was outside.

"I think something is amiss, Mr. Wiseman. It is highly unlikely she passed-out from too many drinks and this Tim character could not possibly have any idea where Mrs. Hanson now resides, or even that she *is* Mrs. Hanson."

"So, what should we, or I, do?"

"We can still track her. We can lead you to her."

"Fine, but let's do something now. That bartender is looking at me very suspiciously through the window. I'll bet he's wondering who in the world I'm talking to."