Part 3

Sensing a feeling of disquiet coming from Brennan's room, Emma poked her head through the slightly ajar door. "Can I come in?" she asked. Brennan had picked up a parcel the previous afternoon from the post office, and just dumped it in his room without opening it, even though he claimed not to know what it was. So to say that Emma's curiosity was piqued was an understatement.

"Sure," he replied absently as he sat on the floor staring at a ticking Something. From this angle, the Something looked to Emma like an enormous desk tidy. As she walked around to stand by Brennan's side, she too was instantly mesmerised by the Something.

It was an expensive version of one of those trashy coffee/ teamaker/ alarmclock/ radio/ cordless phone things - and in a large picture frame that was built in between the coffee cup and the phone charger was a headshot of the multi-coloured Anya blowing a kiss.

After a few moments of silent staring, Shalimar came to join them. She looked at it and winced, looked at Emma and Brennan and then said, "So, you slept with her, then."

Brennan flushed indignantly. "Hey, she tried to seduce me, you know! And no, I might've walked her home but I didn't sleep with her!!"

"Right." Shalimar looked at him sceptically. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

 "I've already told her I'm not interested. I don't know what else I can do."

"Tell her again?" Emma suggested.

Scratching an itch on his chest, Brennan sighed. "If I have to."

The phone on the contraption started ringing. Not a cordless, but a cell phone, apparently. And it played the theme to 'Love Story'.

"Aren't you going to get that?" Shalimar asked.

"No," Brennan said slowly. "No, I'm not." Shalimar reached over for it, but Brennan knocked her hand away. "I said, not!" he snapped.

"Okay," Shalimar agreed uncertainly. "I guess it's her."

"You guess right," Brennan replied as the cell continued to ring.

"So, answer it and tell her it's over." prompted Emma.

"It never even started," Brennan sighed, "and I answered the last two times but all she did was go into this long dirty… stuff."  Here he flushed again. "And I couldn't get a word in edgeways.

"Oh, answer it before that tone drives me insane!" Shalimar demanded as the Love Story continued on and on.

Looking as if he were about to make the ultimate sacrifice, Brennan delicately picked up the cell and held it a couple of inches away from his ear. Emma didn't need Shalimar's enhanced hearing to pick up the diatribe on the other end.

"Uh, I was, uh, in the little boys room, I –" Brennan gave up as the cell chattered away, the tone suddenly switching from angry to seductive. "Hey, hey, Anya? Listen, listen to me, yes, yeah, that sounds good, of course it does. Anya? Listen we have to talk, yes, I know, no I won't, I promise, but hey, what about a drink. Uh, no, I was think somewhere a bit more, uh, public actually, well, what about Starbucks. No? Okay, well, yeah, Maloney's it is then. Three o'clock. No, no, please I don't want to hear right now, I have to go, no, I don't have another woman, I just have to go, I'll see you later, I'm sure it is very nice, I have to go, bye!"

Very carefully, Brennan put the phone down. Then equally carefully, he aimed a finger and fried the entire thing.

"Now that wasn't very nice," Emma commented, while Brennan just shuddered.

 *****

Blindfolded, Jesse couldn't really be sure exactly which direction he was taken in but, with his hands tied behind his back, he was pretty certain that he was adding significantly to the superficial scratches from twigs and undergrowth he couldn't avoid. His captors didn't speak, other than the odd monosyllabic order, and with a gag in place Jesse wasn't in a position to try and strike up conversation.

Eventually, though, they arrived at their destination, and Jesse was shoved into a chair and tied down at wrist, waist and ankle. Somewhere behind and to his right, Collier was talking with a man. The voice was unfamiliar, and the accent heavy.

"So what is this thing, this device? Explain it to me, please."

"A sub-dermal governor," Collier informed him. "He has a genetic disorder that empowers him to do odd things like kill people with a look."

"Ah, yes, I have heard of this. New mutants, yes? Monsters, they are called I believe."

"Yeah," agreed Collier casually, and Jesse guessed that she wasn't giving up her own secret too easily. "And the device keeps them human, and you safe." Great, she'd neatly ensured that his captors would not be tricked into releasing him.

"Not you?"

Collier laughed harshly. "Gimme the cash and I'm outta here. Don't worry about the others, they'll be forced to give up the mission when me and the monster don't show up."

The man barked out an order and Jesse guessed that Collier left with one of the guards before the door shut.

Footsteps, then hands at the nape of his neck undoing his gag. His mouth was dry as sand as he ran his tongue around it. "What's going on?" he asked. "Who are you?"

"Easy questions to answer, my friend. And I will do in a moment. First, introductions. I do not require your name, rank and serial number, for I already have them from your colleague. You are a civilian consultant co-opted for this assignment and you go by the name Jesse Kilmartin. Correct?"

"Isn't the first rule of interrogation something to do with not confirming anything but your name rank and serial number? Because you got those parts right."

The man snorted. "My name is Captain Luis de Marguilera, and everything that happens to you here is decreed by myself. From whether you are permitted to use the latrine to whether you leave here alive."

"Thanks," said Jesse, wishing the man would hurry up and tell him what this was all about. "I'll be sure to leave a tip."

"This is the first and last conversation we will have man to man, Mr Kilmartin," the Captain warned. "You would be wise to take it seriously."

Jesse pursed his lips but kept quiet for the moment. There was no benefit in antagonising the man at this point in time.

"I don't require any information from you, we already know what we need. Your colleague was most helpful for the right price. However, what I do require is a taped confession from your good self. I need for you to confirm that you were sent here by your government to steal our technology, and I need you to give enough detail that people will know that the tape is not fraudulent."

"You want me to do what? But I don't know any detail. I was kidnapped and sent here by some guy, I don't know…" Jesse figured he was safe from inadvertently betraying anyone, since the limited amount he did know de Marguilera wouldn't be interested in. "I don't know enough to validate anything. And you know what? Even if I did, I wouldn't 'fess up to my own birthday for you on tape."

"Ah. I was afraid of that, Mr Kilmartin. I am a civilised man, so I propose to give you a little help in confessing. I understand that some people are resistant, however, and I suggest you pray to whatever god you believe in that you are not."

The door scraped open again and another pair of footsteps entered along with a metallic clattering. A trolley, Jesse guessed, and a moment later he realised that it was probably a surgical trolley as his left inner elbow was prepared by cold hands to receive the first of several injections.

*****

Brennan checked out his surroundings with a cool professional ease, noting that while the café was in a quiet area, it was only half a street from the main thoroughfare. He mentally kicked himself for thinking of this meeting as an encounter with a life-threatening enemy; he was only seeing an obsessive little girl with the intention of telling her once and for all just to fuck off out of his life. In the nicest possible way, of course.

The rainbow hair would have stood out in a crowd but, as the sole occupant of the tables outside the café, he couldn't have missed her anyway. "Hi," he said, as he took the only other chair at the table. Her smile was bright and certainly she was a good-looking young woman, although the intensity with which her blue eyes - made electric with what had to be contact lenses - looked at him was pretty unnerving. He'd taken that intensity as being self-confidence and fierce independence, yet with a slightly doll like quality that made her seem just a little vulnerable.

Now, however, she just looked psychotic. He told himself that she'd just creeped him out, that she was just one of those women who could get a little too carried away if you weren't firm with them. But no reason not to be nice, as she hadn't actually done anything to deserve anything more radical than a clear Dear Jane conversation. "I got you coffee," she said, pushing the steaming cup across the table, "just how you like it."

"You remembered," Brennan said, but didn't touch it. "Anya, we have to talk."

The young women looked down into her own cup. "I'm not going to like this, am I?" she said, softly.

Brennan shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I tried to tell you before."

Anya smiled sadly and looked up again. "I know. I just figured if we met again you might change your mind. Too intense, huh?"

Brennan nodded, feeling that the girl was obviously insecure in herself and that it would be adding insult to injury to try and either justify himself or take on meaningless blame. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought to hold back tears and Brennan sighed inwardly. There was always one, once in a while, that thought one night meant forever. "Hey, can I call someone for you?"

She shook her head with a sniffle. "No, um," she swallowed hard. "Um, would you mind staying with me for a while," she asked, brushing at her cheeks as one tear escaped, quickly followed by another. "Just, um, until?" She waved ineffectually and gulped.

While one part of him was figuring out how to escape, the other part of him grabbed some wipes from another table and handed them to her. "Sure," he said, "but only if you let me pick up the tab." 'Never be beholden to a girl you're dumping' was a maxim he'd always lived by and it usually worked well for him.

"Thank you," she sniffed as she blew her nose on the wipes. Since he was now paying, Brennan passed the next few moments of hiccupping silence sipping at his coffee. He wasn't really aware of anything wrong, didn't even remember sliding off the seat, but he was suddenly and helplessly aware of being unable to feel anything. He had a close up and personal view of dried gum on the sidewalk, could hear Anya crying out for help, telling someone that he'd collapsed from insulin deficiency, that she just needed to get him home for his injections. Then he was being manhandled into a taxi, and Anya was whispering in his ear.

"You're mine, Brennan, and I'll keep you. Even if I have to kill you to do it."

*****

Oh, god but he felt so totally weird. They'd stopped shoving stuff in Jesse's veins and let him alone for a while, but with his concept of time so completely out of kilter it could have been minutes or months. The walls were undulating and the floor kept disappearing while the ceiling kept spinning off into space, which was kinda odd because he still had the blindfold on, and it all made him feel very seasick.

His left arm wouldn't stop twitching and, while he could feel each molecule of air brush the hair follicles on his arms and face, he'd lost all communication with his neck, elbows and knees. The drugs had worked, of course, and his brain been so completely embarrassed at how much his mouth was talking that he'd collapsed into hysterical giggles several times, forcing them to slap him or douse him with cold water.

There was a thought, and another one. His brain really didn't have a lot to say about anything. He'd used all his will power to resist the drugs at the beginning, but then willpower divided up and rolled away and he tried to catch it all but it kept splitting up and running away like frightened mercury. Sometimes he remembered that he needed to find it, but then he'd get distracted by trying to find a thought, a memory, or maybe his feet.

And it really was the funniest thing of all, that although he knew that the drugs had done their job, Captain Marjoram thought they'd failed.

*****

Emma stood in the doorway to the lab, watching Shalimar dozing over the communications console. "Shal?" she called, not wanting to get too close to her in case she startled her. A Shalimar that was startled awake had been known to give someone a concussion before. As the blonde muttered something unintelligible, Emma called her name again, loudly this time, and was both amused and gratified to see Shalimar jump awake.

"Whazza-?" Shalimar looked at the console in dismay. "No! I fell asleep! I might have missed a call! Oh god, what if I missed Jesse?"

"Shalimar, calm down, you didn't miss anything." Adam materialised from the stock cupboard with some cables. "I've been monitoring too, and don't forget the comms are hooked up to the internal system. You can monitor from your bed, you know."

"I can't believe I fell asleep!" Shalimar rubbed her shadowed eyes.

"I can," Emma told her. "You've barely slept the last few days. But I think we may have a bigger problem than that."

"What?" Shalimar was incredulous. "What could be more important than Jesse?"

"We can't do anything but wait for him," Emma said carefully, knowing how touchy Shalimar could be over those she perceived as her family. She didn't want for either of them to have to suffer through the sense of guilt and worry that the feral would have if she thought she was choosing between family members. "Right now, I believe that Brennan could be in trouble."

"Brennan?" Emma could almost feel the gear change in Shalimar's emotions as immediate concern and the need to do something transferred from Jesse to Brennan, the impossible pushed back temporarily in favour of the doable. "What's he done?"

"You know that girl he, uh, didn't sleep with?"

"The one that's been pestering him?" Shalimar asked.

"That would be the one," Emma said stiffly.

"You don't believe him, do you?" Shalimar queried, slightly puzzled.

Emma shrugged. "I just think he should be a bit more careful how he treats women, that's all."

"When it comes to women, Brennan is one of the most gentlemanly men I know," Shalimar told her. "I take it you haven't 'read' him if you don't know that. Never lets a girl pay for anything, and always leaves them feeling like a million dollars."

"And you would know this because?" Emma shook herself slightly. "I'm sorry, that's your business. Look, I think he was a little on edge about meeting with her, so he said he'd call in every half hour. It was sort of informal, so I may have left it too long already, but he's just missed two check-ins. And his comm's switched off. I think he'd have said if it was going to be, uh, inconvenient to call."

"Well, why don't I monitor things here, while you go check on Brennan?" Adam suggested and, at Shalimar's beseeching look, added, "I'll let you know the minute I hear anything, okay?"

*****

 "I have a son your age," the Captain said softly. "I love him very much. I did not want to hurt you, but I love my country and her people more. What you and your people were trying to do was wrong, and all I am trying to do is ensure that your government doesn't think it can get away with it. I want for my country and her people to be recognised in their own right and not as the slave nation it currently is. We don't want to rule the world or anyone else, just be allowed to… to be. You are just one small step on the road to achieving that."

Jesse's mind was only just starting to come back together, enough that short strings of rational thought could be cobbled together. There seemed to be some sense in what the Captain was saying, but it didn't really matter. If he didn't believe that the drugs had worked then, given that he knew nothing, nothing Jesse said now would make the Captain believe him.

"Please, do not make me hurt you." The Captain sounded so absolutely sincere, that Jesse believed him. But what could he do?

A short sharp scraping sound and the smell of sulphur announced a cigarette being lit. "I think I need to make a small demonstration that I am serious my friend," the Captain said, and there was a genuine sadness in his voice. A shocked yelp escaped Jesse almost before he realised it when the cigarette made contact with the back of his hand, the pain stabbing through to his palm.

"No?" asked the Captain. "Then my best men will look after you. When you wish to speak with me again, you only have to ask. Adios."

"No, wait!" Jesse rasped, surprised by how worn his throat was as he clenched and unclenched his abused hand.

"Yes?" asked the Captain.

There was a long silence before Jesse slumped back in his chair. "Nothing."

*****

Brennan came back to himself slowly, in the end just a dull headache behind his eyes the only residue of the Mickey Finn she'd slipped him.

It was very surreal.

Nice apartment, view overlooking the docks.

He was reclining in an armchair, the kind that lets you lie down when you pushed a lever.

TV was on, a football game playing, the screen placed conveniently so he could see it without straining from where he lay.

A table on the other side with an open can of beer, a bucket of popcorn and a short note explaining that she'd gone to get dinner. It began My Darling, and ended with Your Devoted Anya.

He suddenly felt nauseous.

His coat was hung neatly up on the back of the door, his boots to the side. On his feet were a pair of slippers that had to have belonged to someone's great-grandfather.

Nausea turned to ill. But he'd choke if he was.

Because several reels of packing tape had been used to tape him to the chair.

Brennan wondered how long Anya would be.

He needed to piss.

And he needed to kick the TV in.

The football game was on video. The tape had rewound for the second time, launching into its third replay.

He was almost looking forward to seeing Anya for the relief.

*****

Shivering against cold stone, Jesse felt hopeless and abandoned. And that felt worse than anything physical that the Captain's men had done, were doing to him. He wore nothing but the ropes about his wrists, his blindfold and a pair of rough shorts. He had actually been naked until the Captain, against his men's advice, had ordered that the prisoner's modesty be kept intact. Too late for that, and too late for Jesse to notice the compassion behind the order.

He'd lost his name too. The Captain always called him 'the prisoner' and his men used that too, or worse.

The only sense of time he had now was the stubble lengthening on his face. Bread and water was fed to him at irregular intervals, and even the cold buckets of water were sporadic. He'd surprised himself at how high his pain threshold was. Perhaps, because of the pain he endured when pushing the limits of his powers, it had built up. The first beating had been the worst, each blow with fist or belt shocking in the extreme, far worse than any he'd had fighting Ekhart's people. More brutal somehow. But as his body settled into one massive intolerable ache, he became inured against the blows, barely feeling them over the constant fire he was living with.

It was the psychological aspect that he was finding it increasingly hard to bear. The loneliness and inability to think straight. He was held captive on all levels; physically he was restrained, the pain-coping mechanism distancing him from his body yet not allowing his mind to escape elsewhere. And then the chains that bound his powers, which hurt as much as the leather that had bitten deep into his wrists.

And there was no one coming to get him out.

Those who might have wanted to didn't know, and those that knew didn't want to.

He was completely on his own and completely alone.

*****

Cont'd.