Author's Notes: Thank you for the wonderful reviews. I apologize for taking so long to post again. Real life has remained hectic…I promise to try to do better in the future. K.
An Eye For
An Eye, Part Three
By Mele
Adam's quarters were well separated from the others' rooms, on the far side of Sanctuary, a two-room suite with a private bath. He kept a fairly impressive array of electronic equipment - he refused to call them 'toys' - for those times when he wanted entertainment or to research privately. Among the up-to-the-second technology, sitting like a Model T surrounded by Ferraris, was an old fashioned Video Cassette Player. If Adam had a secret vice, it was a fondness for a wide variety of older, cheesy, movies; the cheesier the better. And most of them had not made the jump from VCR to DVD, hence the player.
He didn't know why Dwayne had opted to use the older technology in making his recordings, but it was a moot point. The man had. And it turned out to be convenient, since Adam had the appropriate means to view them without having to first transfer the tapes to a newer media.
After treating Jesse's many injuries, and leaving the still unconscious molecular under Shalimar's care, Kane had slipped back to the Double Helix to remove the sealed box of cassettes. After dropping it off in his quarters, he checked in with Shalimar, and found the blonde feral resting at Jesse's bedside, and it didn't take ESP to know she had no intention of moving anytime soon. He whispered a goodnight to the young woman, telling her to call him via the comlink if there were any problems, then went in search of the other two team members.
He found Brennan at a computer console, engrossed in some sort of research, while Emma sat in a corner, meditating. They both asked about Jess, and after reassuring them that the molecular was doing as well as possible, he'd suggested - firmly - that they get some rest. Reluctantly, they both complied.
With his young team safe and secure for the time being, Adam locked the entrance to his quarters and activated the privacy device he'd installed recently. It effectively blocked Emma from reading him, could prevent Jesse from phasing in, would even withstand a jolt from Brennan, if necessary. Though he loved and trusted the members of Mutant X, a deeply private, paranoid part of his personality required definite protection against uninvited company. He wasn't particularly proud of this character trait, but he'd learned it was easier to accommodate it.
Secluded in his sanctuary within Sanctuary, he poured himself a glass of wine before removing the tapes from the box, and stacking them neatly beside the VCP. Eleven rectangular boxes, numbered sequentially, representing sixty-six hours in a young man's life. Adam picked up number one, turning the innocent looking item over in his hands, and wondered again at this nearly compulsive need he felt to view the tapes. He'd examined Jesse, he'd seen where the molecular had been held, he knew - knew - what had been done to him. So why did he feel so strongly about viewing the recordings of the events?
Kane understood that Thorton wanted revenge for some perceived injustice, and had used Jesse for that purpose. And therein rested the reason Adam was compelled to view the tapes; if he didn't…if he simply destroyed the tapes without viewing them…that would make it somehow worse. As if the horrors Jess had endured had been ultimately for nothing. It was not particularly logical, but Adam couldn't shake the feeling he owed at least this much to his injured charge.
Disgusted with his own attempts at procrastination, he pulled the cassette from the case and inserted it almost viciously into the machine. Settling back in his leather lounge chair, he turned on the television and hit the 'play' button on the remote. After a few seconds of static, Dwayne Thorton's face filled the screen.
"Hello, Adam. If you're watching this then I have to surmise you finally got your head out of your ass and figured out who I am. And you've retrieved your young man. And I can almost picture that oh-so-earnest look you get, wondering what you did to deserve such a thing happening to you. As I'm sure I've already mentioned, Mr. Kilmartin is inconsequential to events, just a means to an end. And what is that end? Why, retribution, of course. You took my son, I'll take yours. Or as close to a son as a cold bastard like you can ever hope to get. Confused? Sit down, make yourself comfortable, and I'll explain.
You remember Nancy? My beautiful, graceful Nancy? We had a wonderful first year of marriage; our lives were busy, fulfilled, satisfying. I didn't believe anything could make me happier, but I was wrong. Shortly after our first anniversary, she told me she was pregnant. How she glowed with that news! As for me; I walked around in a smiling daze for weeks. We started setting up a nursery, Nancy even took up knitting, much to my amusement. There's just something about seeing a scientist like she was knitting little blue booties. It was the happiest time I can ever remember in my life. Then, seven months pregnant, she was diagnosed with a disease that threatened her and our unborn child's life. A disease that conventional medicine could not cure. But my bosses, hearing about Nan's health problems, offered their assistance. What choice did we really have? The baby would certainly die, and Nancy might die with him. We agreed to treatment, and two months later Danny was born.
It's a shame you've never had a child, Adam. It is a most…remarkable…experience. Because of the problems she'd had, Nancy had a Caesarean section, so the baby didn't have that smushed up look a vaginal birth gives infants. No, our Danny was beautiful from the get-go. Big blue eyes, golden curls, a dimple in his left cheek. When he smiled, not even the most hardened curmudgeon could help but to smile back. He was magic. Then he started to walk." The face on the tape sobered, his gaze hardening again.
"I don't think Daniel ever crawled, he started walking at an obscenely early age, and with mobility, came the first symptoms of his mutancy. He was a feral, with preternatural balance and agility, and a strength and temper far beyond his years. When he was five years old he broke a twelve year old's arm. In three places. He lasted less than a week in public school. Of course, we had no idea what his problem was, in those days things were being kept secret. We took him from doctor to doctor, had him seeing a shrink when he was four years old, for God's sake! He was barely verbal and we had him seeing a shrink. It was a never-ending nightmare, our own personal hell. Our marriage was strained to the point of breaking, all our friends had forsaken us, we were broke, I'd lost my job. We moved almost yearly, always seeking a way to help our boy, a new treatment in a new city. And none of them worked."
"In San Francisco, at age fifteen, Danny beat a neighborhood boy into a coma, an act that eventually landed him in a mental institute. First, they tried to 'counsel' him; a euphemism for 'beating the crap out of him.' When that didn't work - when they found he fought back - they changed tactics. They kept him drugged to the point of incoherency, but at least he wasn't hurting anyone. When we threatened to expose their practices, they threatened to expose our son. Then, we heard of a new place, in New York, and after much debate, more than a few threats and unscrupulous deals, and enough red tape to meet the city's needs at Christmas, we got Danny transferred there. There they weaned him from the drugs, tried to teach him control, but…it was too late. He had been through too much. He escaped, ran away, and in his panicked state, fell from a freeway overpass in front of a truck hauling fuel. Our only solace was that he probably didn't suffer but was killed instantly. They called his death a suicide, but I called it murder." Thorton paused to rub a hand over his eyes, then continued, his voice growing even colder.
"Now, I know what you're thinking: what does this have to do with you? I'm getting to that. Nancy never recovered from Danny's death - hell, she never recovered from his life, for that matter. Her spirit had died years before, and shortly after we lost Danny, her body followed. I was alone, and finally took the time to really LOOK at what had happened. I started researching, trying to figure out how your lives had gone to hell in a hand basket, and that's when I got reacquainted with you, my friend." Thorton's voice fairly dripped sarcasm.
"You and your wonderful, life altering, DNA manipulations. Saving lives, that's how you chose to promote your work. More like ruining lives. Mine…Nancy's…Danny's. You destroyed my family, so I'll destroy yours. Starting with young Mr. Kilmartin. You know, maybe I was wrong thinking this boy would be a poor test subject. See, I'd really wanted your feral, even though it's a woman. Seemed more poetically just. But now I see a certain cosmic logic in it being this poor little rich boy. Noah Kilmartin's progeny. Now there's a fellow that's a piece of work…no scruples and no qualms about anyone knowing that."
"Anyway, enough of my chatter, I'll have more to say later, I'm sure, but for now your molecular is waiting on us, so let's do the polite thing, shall we, and satisfy his curiosity."
There was a moment's static, then a clear shot of Jesse in the cage, sitting near the middle, one hand holding a bar of the enclosure to his right. Though disheveled and nude, he didn't appear injured; just thoroughly pissed off, though Adam knew him well enough to see a trace of the fear under the anger.
"What do you think you're going to get from me?" Jess demanded, glaring at his captor and subtly shifting to a more aggressive stance.
Thorton didn't answer, just stepped up to the console a few feet in front of the cage and threw a switch. A familiar humming noise accompanied the mid-range voltage that ran through the bars of the cage, shocking Jesse, causing him to jerk and jump in his attempt to avoid the painful sensations. It was then that Adam realized that the molecular's right arm was handcuffed to the side bar, presumably to keep the young man within reach of whatever Thorton wanted to do.
With a faintly disgusted look, Dwayne approached his prisoner carrying a bucket of water, which he threw on Jesse. Moments later when he turned the electric current back on he was rewarded by the first cry of pain from his captive.
Feeling sick, Adam hit the fast forward button on the remote.
~*~
Though Emma had grown accustomed to the peace and unnatural quiet that was Sanctuary at night, it was still the time she most missed the natural sounds of the world outside. The chirrup of crickets, the soft whisper of wind in the trees, even the hum-rumble of passing vehicles. The sounds of life outside her own immediate sphere. In Sanctuary, though, there was only the faint, white noise of machinery working round the clock, and a mere hint of the presence of her teammates and surrogate family.
But thanks to Emma's particular mutant talent, she could 'hear'…albeit mentally…her teammates if she so desired. Or, sometimes, even if she did not so desire, as she'd found out long ago. This night, however, was quiet even to Emma. Shalimar and Jesse were still sleeping, it seemed, and Adam had that blocker of his turned on. Reaching out mentally for Brennan, she found his thoughts and feelings a swirling mass of black and grey, shot through with the bright red of anger. Pulling on her jeans and a plain white T-shirt, she set out in search of the elemental.
Following her instincts to the garage, she fully expected to find Brennan working on his car or the motorcycle, as he often did when upset. Instead she found Mulwray hunched over the computer in the corner of the large area, his scowling face eerily illuminated by the flickering images on the screen. Emma purposely clumped her feet to alert him to her presence as she crossed over to join him.
"I wasn't surprised to find you down here, but I do have to admit I'm surprised to find you on the computer," she commented quietly.
"Couldn't sleep," was the elemental's terse reply.
"I kind of figured that." A few moments passed quietly as Emma watched a series of map graphics cross the screen in front of them. "What are you looking for?" she asked at last.
"There were no signs that Thorton was living in the same building where he was holding Jesse. No computer hook up, no bed, nothing. So I'm thinking he may have had another place nearby where he lived while he had Jess. I'm cross-referencing who owns what buildings near there, rental histories, stuff like that. No way did Thorton have enough time to pull out before we showed up; I think he's still in the area. When it gets light I'm going to go look," Brennan explained calmly.
"And, if you find
him?"
"I don't think you want to know."
There was no warmth or humor in Brennan's dark eyes.
"I don't think you have to tell me," the psionic replied dryly. "You know that won't help Jesse any."
"Might help me."
"Brennan, we need to find Thorton, yes. But we need to find him and bring him here, give Jesse a chance to deal with this however he needs to. I know you're angry - and don't give me that look, anyone who knows you would be able to see your anger - but I think we need to think of Jesse first, don't you?" Emma's expression was soft and serious; impossible for the elemental to fight.
"Okay. We find him for Jess. THEN I get to kill him," the tall man grumbled, turning his attention back to the computer. Emma smiled, not fooled by Mulwray's grumbling; he was now focused on his friend, instead of on himself, which was exactly what she intended. Brennan's hot temper could be a problem, but one sure fire way of circumventing it was to turn his attention on someone other than himself. The elemental's sense of loyalty and honor was stronger than his temper, and once his considerable energy and determination was directed, he was a force to be reckoned with.
Combined with Emma's special abilities, Dwayne Thorton would not stand a chance.
~*~
Shalimar sat back on her heels, barely a foot away from her distraught friend and teammate, who sat rocking himself and mumbling his mantra over and over. The feral had barely touched Jesse's shoulder and this was how he'd reacted. Worried, she brought her comlink up near her mouth, intending to summon Adam, but a vague instinct stopped her short. What could Adam do that she could not, except drug the young man back to unconsciousness? Would that be better for Jesse in the long run?
Shalimar just couldn't believe drugs and restraints were the answer if they wanted Jesse to recover from his ordeal. Somehow she had to break through his hysteria and reach the part of him that had been her friend for the last fifteen years. Acting on impulse, not bothering to analyze where the idea came from, she matched his motions, mirroring him silently. Once she caught the rhythm, she added her own vocals to his, changing it only slightly, speaking loudly enough to be easily heard by her companion.
"You are not a freak, you are special and wanted and loved. You are not a freak, you are special and wanted and loved…."
How long she rocked at Kilmartin's side she didn't know, but gradually she became aware of his gaze darting over to her in confusion. She gave no indication that she saw his glances; she simply rocked and chanted, eventually coming to realize the strange attraction the activity had. It was oddly soothing she discovered, and soon her mind wandered again, so much so that she almost missed it when Jess stopped moving.
It was only a moment before she noticed the cessation of movement and almost reluctantly stopped herself, turning her full attention to the young man next to her. They both continued their odd chant, but Jesse was now blatantly watching Shalimar, the fear in his eyes noticeably less. Still whispering his mantra, he reached out one trembling hand for the feral, who remained perfectly still echoing his words almost soundlessly.
The shaky touch landed first on Shal's upper arm, then traveled with exquisite slowness across the top of her shoulder to carefully grasp a tendril of blonde hair. Jesse seemed mesmerized by the soft strands, rubbing them between his fingers before growing bolder and softly stroking the gleaming locks. Gradually his gaze traveled from the light hair to the young woman's dark eyes, and an expression of uncertainty appeared on his face.
"Shal?" he asked in a breathy whisper.
Her breath huffed out is a gentle sobbing sigh, as tears gathered in her eyes. "Yes, Jess, it's me. You're home now, you're safe."
"Shal? I like this dream," he sighed, curling to his side, toward his companion, until he was reclining on his less injured side, his head resting in Shalimar's lap. "I don't wanna wake up from this one," he murmured as his eyes slipped closed. "I don't wanna wake up."
"Rest now, Jesse, just rest. When you wake up, I'll still be here," she promised, stroking his hair with a tender expression on her face. Jesse was calm, had seemed close to touching on reality, so Shalimar allowed herself to hope that there was still enough of her friend left to allow him to find his way back. There had to be; the alternative was simply not acceptable.
TBC