Gaby, Emma, Angela, Gunn, the sisters, Alcott, and TransGenics are mine.
Rated PG-13 : Strong sexuality; harsh language, moderate violence.
A warning: Part of this chapter really earns the story's PG-13. It may be disturbing to some readers.
Wes opened his eyes to darkness and quiet. He blinked a few times, then raised his hands to his face, rubbing it and scrubbing his hair back. Then he sat up, a little clumsily, hampered by the handcuffs still on his wrists. He had fallen asleep almost as soon as the others left the room. Now he identified the cause of his wakening. He was hungry. Extremely hungry. Naturally, since he hadn't eaten anything all day. He turned toward the door, hoping his father hadn't locked him in.
The sight of a human form on the armchair next to the bed startled him. There was just enough moonlight shining through the bedroom windows to allow him to see and identify the face, which was watching him, silently.
"Eric?"
"Yeah. Are you okay?"
"I guess so. Tired. But the headache's gone."
"Good."
"What are you doing here?"
"Your father was going to sit here and watch you all night. I think he's been through enough, so I said I'd stay. I didn't really feel like going home, anyway."
"What about your birds?"
"I called my neighbors to take care of them."
"Oh. Sorry."
"For what?"
"You're sitting in a chair instead of sleeping in your own bed. Because of me."
Eric sighed. "Not your fault."
"And I'm sorry for all the things I did. Acting like a lunatic, holding a blaster to your head, shouting at you, hitting you... I'm just sorry."
"Again, it's not your fault."
"You don't understand. All that stuff came from inside me. Like I said, the other side of me. I have all that anger in me... and it all just came pouring out."
"Everyone has a side like that. Everyone has a lot of anger they keep locked up. And even with that device affecting you, you didn't really hurt anyone."
Wes looked away. "I tried to kill you and Dad."
"But you didn't. You chose not to."
"You've taken a lot of crap from me the last couple of weeks. I can't believe you didn't give up on me."
He saw Eric smile. "It's nothing compared to all the shit you took from me in the past. And I wasn't under mind control."
Wes smiled in spite of himself. "Listen, I'm starving. Are you hungry?"
"A little."
"Let's raid the kitchen." He held up his handcuffs. "Can you take these off?"
"Your father didn't take them off?"
"I guess he misplaced his handcuff keys."
Eric smiled again, got out his key and unlocked the cuffs. "How about my morpher?" Wes asked.
"In the morning, if you're good. I don't know where it is."
After Wes made a quick trip to the bathroom, they both padded downstairs. Eric had taken off his boots, along with the jacket and equipment from his uniform, and they moved almost silently, Wes deactivating the burglar alarms. In the kitchen, Eric sat at the table while Wes inspected the contents of the refrigerator.
"Sandwiches okay? Ham and cheese? Turkey? Peanut butter?"
"Whatever. Doesn't matter."
Wes put a couple of sandwiches together, put out soda and glasses, and sat down, aware of Eric's eyes watching him. "You're still looking at me like I'm going to explode any second."
"Actually, I'm enjoying the feeling of not expecting you to blow up."
Wes smiled and picked up his sandwich. He was too hungry to talk, and they ate in silence for a few minutes. Eric cut his sandwich in half, and put down the first part after a few bites. Not typical of him, he usually ate everything in sight. Seeing Wes staring at his plate, he wordlessly shoved it over with the untouched half. When he was finished, Wes got up to get an apple, and settled down to eat it more slowly.
"Eric... I'm sorry about Angela too. That was a rotten thing for them to do. You must feel terrible."
Eric smiled. It didn't reach to his eyes. "I'm getting over her spell or whatever. I'm fine now."
"Still..."
"Just drop it, okay?"
"Okay. Listen, why don't you sleep in one of the guest rooms? No reason you should sit in a chair all night."
"I told your father I'd stay with you."
"Then you sleep in the bed. I'll sit in the chair."
Eric snorted. "No way in hell."
"Sleep in the bed with me?"
"Even less way in hell."
They both grinned. Wes finished his apple in comfortable silence.
"Tell me about Jen. What was she like?"
The question surprised Wes. "You knew her."
"Not really. Only spoke to her a few times."
"Well... she was very strong. Very determined. Hated to make a mistake. Very loyal. A little moody sometimes. And intense. Whatever she did, she put everything into it."
"Whatever she did?"
He looked up at Eric and smiled. "Get that look off your face."
"Can't blame a guy for thinking."
"Not if you're thinking about Jen."
"You know who I liked? Katie."
"Katie?"
"Sure. What's wrong with that? She was sweet, and beautiful. And she kissed me, when we said goodbye."
"Just on the cheek."
"Still a kiss. I'll take what I can get."
Wes grinned. "Katie never hugged you, did she?"
"No. Why?"
"It could be a painful experience. You remember how strong she was?"
"I remember her picking up cyclobots and tossing them around... Yeah."
"When she felt affectionate, she got carried away a little. Let's just say I don't think you'd survive your first night together."
Eric laughed. "It might be worth it. What a way to go."
The sound of their laughter died away in the large kitchen. Wes watched Eric's face fall back into harsh lines of unhappiness. "Eric..." he started.
Eric stood up. "You should get back to sleep." Reluctantly, Wes got up and followed him upstairs.
When he was back in bed with the lights out, and Eric curled up in the chair under a blanket, Wes stared toward the ceiling, feeling sleep creeping back up on him. He blinked it away for another moment.
"Eric? You awake?"
"Yeah."
"Ever been to a pajama party?"
"That's for girls."
"Maybe. Anyway I feel like we're having one right now."
"Jesus. Go to sleep."
"Eric..."
"What?"
"I'm sorry about what happened to you, whether you want my sympathy or not. I wish there was some way I could help."
Eric took so long to answer that Wes had started to feel sleepy again. "Thanks," he finally said. "You are helping. Now shut up and go to sleep."
"Okay. 'Night, Eric."
"Goodnight, Wes."
The next day was a busy one for Eric, a day he would rather not have faced at all, let alone after spending the night in a chair. It started at Bio-Lab where he checked in with Miller, and continued at the jewelry store where his investigation had been interrupted. Then it was back to Bio-Lab for a meeting with Gunn, at which he briefed the Bio-Lab internal security chief on the situation, and now finally to the Collins house for another meeting.
As soon as he had come in the door, he had seen her, standing in a group with her sisters, that face he couldn't get out of his head multiplied by five, all of them looking at him, with expressions ranging from contempt to sympathy. Angela had stared at him, her face blank and controlled. He had stared back coldly for a moment and walked by, feeling her gaze like heat on his back.
Now he sat at the Collins' dining room table, with Mr. Collins, Wes, Gunn, and the sisters. Angela was watching him, but he looked away, every nerve jumping. He gazed blindly at his hands, resting on the table in front of him, acutely aware of her presence, so filled with anger and misery that he thought he might explode so violently he'd put Wes to shame.
She hadn't said anything, letting Emma and Dana speak for them. But he could hear her soft voice in theirs, they were so similar. He wondered if she would ever try to talk to him again, if she cared about what he felt, if she had ever cared for him at all. Or if he had been nothing to her, only a source of information, only a tool to be used.
"Eric?"
With a start he realized he had no idea what the others were talking about. "Sorry," he said. "What was the question?" He saw Wes give him a worried glance.
"I asked if you think we should confront Taylor now," Collins repeated.
"I think we should let him and the people he's working for think that Wes is still sick. Spread rumors that he's not coming back. Give them more rope, and see what they do. It's not Taylor that's the main problem. But when the time comes, just leave him alone with me for half an hour." He had a brief but satisfying vision of smashing Taylor's face in.
"We don't have much to go on now," Gunn said. "The police and Silver Guardians are still investigating the break-in and the robbery of our warehouse. I agree that we should hold off, and let them think their plan's working. It might prevent more attacks on you and Wes, Mr. Collins."
"Wes, you remember Lender, the guy Taylor recommended for Gaby's job? I sensed something wrong about him. That's why I didn't want you to hire him. You might want to investigate him, too," Emma suggested.
"Good idea. Eric, you may be a target, if Taylor is trying to take over at Bio-Lab."
"I can take care of myself. If I don't keep up my usual routine, it'll tip them off."
Wes looked at Gina. "You can see the future. Can't you tell what T-Gen is going to do, so we can be ready for them?"
She looked at him nervously and answered in a soft, shy voice. "I can't really do much. I can only see a few hours into the future, most of the time, and only when someone I know is involved. Sometimes when someone asks me a question, I'll get a feeling about the answer, but it can be hard to interpret. And sometimes it just doesn't work. I'm sorry."
"Can you tell if anyone in this room is in danger from them?"
She hesitated. "It could be. But I don't know who, or when. Maybe I'll get more as the time gets closer."
Wes sighed. "Well, thanks."
"Maybe that will be a help," Collins said. "Other than that… we have to wait for them to make the next move. I guess that's it for now."
Everyone stood up and prepared to leave. Eric felt a touch on his arm and looked up to see Wes next to him.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Why shouldn't I be?"
"For one thing, you look exhausted. For another…" he jerked his head slightly in Angela's direction. Eric risked a glance and saw her go through the dining room door.
"I told you, I'm over her."
Wes eyed him with concern and skepticism. "Sure you are."
"I've gone through a lot worse than this. So have you. Don't worry about me."
"Okay. Are you staying for dinner?"
"No. I'm not very hungry. And I could use some sleep."
"Yeah, I'm sure you could."
"How are you holding up?"
Wes smiled. "Good. Still a little tired. But it feels great to know what was wrong. And to know it's gone."
Eric gave him an answering smile. "Glad to hear it."
"See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah. See ya."
He caught himself looking for her as he walked out. But she was gone. He told himself he was glad.
Angela sat in her car, waiting for him to come home. Gina had warned her not to come here tonight. She said something unpleasant would happen. But Angela had no illusions. She expected 'unpleasant' would be an understatement. But she felt an obligation to see Eric, and try to make some kind of peace with him.
She watched as he drove up and parked, got out of her car as he locked his and started up the walk to his front door. She called his name and saw his back stiffen. For a moment she thought he might ignore her. But then he turned, his face hard and blank. She walked up to face him.
"I need to talk to you. I want to explain."
"I think I understand already."
"Then call it an apology."
"Fine. You've apologized. Now go home."
"Eric... won't you let me come in?"
A half smile appeared on his face. "All the times I asked you to come home with me. And now you're here. But it's not quite what I imagined." He waved toward the door. "Come on in."
Inside, she looked around while he locked the door. It was small, and the furniture was cheap and old, but it was clean, and neater than most single men's homes. She was surprised to see Eric had pets; there were two small birds in a cage hanging in the corner.
"Have a seat."
She sat on the couch and watched him take off his equipment and jacket. He wore a close-fitting black tee-shirt underneath, revealing an impressively muscled body. He was well aware of the effect, judging by the slight smile on his face as he caught her looking. It touched her with unease. He sat down at the other end of the couch. In the light, she could see the signs of fatigue on his face, and wondered if she was responsible.
"Well?" he demanded.
"Like I said, I want to apologize."
"You apologize. Doesn't mean much."
"Maybe not. But I didn't have to come over here tonight. It's very difficult for me. You could at least appreciate that."
"Thanks. That's really big of you." The words were full of sarcasm and anger.
"You heard our story. We needed information. You were the best way to get it. I'm sorry you were hurt. We all are. But we did what was necessary. You might have done it yourself, under the same circumstances."
He smiled a little again, his eyes moving over her. "I don't have the right equipment." He moved a little closer to her on the couch.
"You know what I mean."
"I understand your reasons. It doesn't make me feel any better." His voice had taken on a silky quality. He moved closer still.
"Most men don't react this way. Most men don't get so much of an -- emotional attachment." As soon as it was out she knew it was the wrong thing to say. But the combination of the attraction she had always felt for him and her growing uneasiness were setting her nerves on fire.
"Oh, that makes me feel a whole lot better." There was a hard glitter of anger in his eyes.
She stood up. "I'd better go." As she turned to the door he was up instantly, blocking her way. She stepped back.
"Don't go yet. We're not done," he said, his voice soft and that strange smile on his face. It sent a chill of alarm through her.
"What do you mean?" She backed away again as he stepped closer, and found herself with her back to the wall.
"I have a few things to say to you." As she tried to move past him, he reached a hand to the wall next to her, leaning on it. "What's the matter?" he asked, in that same soft voice. "Don't tell me you're afraid of me." He touched her hair, letting a few strands trail through his fingers.
"No. Of course not."
"Good." He reached the other hand to the wall on her other side, trapping her. "I just wanted to tell you exactly what you did to me."
"I know what I did."
"Do you? You used me. You heated me up when you wanted to know something, then you cooled me off when you didn't want to give me anything. You were good at it, you played me like an instrument. Turned me on and off just like a fucking light bulb." His eyes had narrowed. "You had me under control every second. Never had to dirty yourself by sleeping with a mere human."
"I'm not like that. I've been with human men." Again she knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say.
He smiled, eyes half closing, leaning so close she could feel the heat of his body. "Then I guess it was just me you didn't want."
"I wanted to. But I thought it would just make things worse, when you found out the truth."
He smiled again. "Well. I know the truth now. And God help me, I still want you. So how about it?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You know what I mean. I think you owe it to me." He was closer, his body almost touching hers, their faces only inches apart, and now he bent his head, his breath hot in her ear, sending a shiver through her. "Give me something good to remember you by."
"I... I don't think it's a good idea..." She heard her own voice shake. There was another spark of anger in his face, quickly hidden.
He looked at her, eyes narrowing but mouth smiling thinly, his voice bitter. "I knew you'd say no. You're just like Dana and Carrie. Cold and heartless. You never gave a shit about me."
She raised her chin in defiance. "I didn't say no. If that's what you really want -- go ahead and do it."
An instant later she felt another twinge of alarm as he grinned wolfishly. Then he was kissing her, not the way he did before, but hard, with no trace of affection, his tongue trying to force her mouth open. One hand went behind her head, the fingers winding in her hair and gripping, the other pulling her closer as he moved forward, pressing her into the wall, grinding his body against hers. Then his hands moved over her, not caressing, but grasping roughly. Through their physical contact, she felt a wave of his pain and overwhelming rage, and had a sudden sense of the danger she was in. Frightened and repulsed, she tried to push him away.
For a long moment she felt real panic, as her struggles had no effect against his strength. She realized her power was also useless; what he was feeling had little to do with desire. Then he let her go, so suddenly she almost lost her balance. She leaned against the wall for support as he took a few steps away and turned his back, fists clenched and chest heaving.
"Go on, get out," he said, his voice now raw and strained.
She ran for the door, fumbled with the lock and yanked it open. Just as she went through it she heard his voice again.
"I'm sorry."