I hope that everyone can forgive me for taking so long in posting this latest chapter. I warn you, it's sort of a cliff-hanger, but I've got the next chapter in the works, and I might even have it up by the weekend! Enjoy! (And don't forget to R&R!)
Chapter Six
"Any idea what's got Charlie pissed off this time?"
Throttle shook his head at Vinnie as he wiped grease off his hands. "Not a friggin' clue. I thought she'd forgiven us for the Masked Motorcyclist thing…" Vinnie joined him in wincing at the memory. Charlie had not been pleased to walk into the Warehouse only to be greeted by hoots and cries of 'Here she comes to save the day…' and 'Hey, Commander, where's the purple leather!' It had taken two hours of drinks and apologies before she would unwind enough to even look at the Mice with something kinder then a glower.
He turned to Modo and noticed the slightly bemused look on his gray bro's face. "You know somethin', man?"
Modo shrugged his shoulders. "Might be. I think it has somethin' to do with that pregnant woman. I was lookin' at Charlie when the girl announced it, and Charlie-girl looked awfully upset." A few days earlier, one of the Fighters had run into the Warehouse yelling ecstatically that she was pregnant. The entire building had erupted in cheers and congratulations for the first baby of the newly freed Earth.
Throttle shook his head in confusion. "I dunno why that'd tick her off, though."
"Maybe she's jealous?"
"Jealous? Charlie-girl? Are you kiddin', Modo? Charlie was always talkin' about how she didn't really like kids. Why'd she want one now?" Vinnie leaned against his bike and stretched.
"I don't know, but maybe-"
"Can it, bros. Steamed redhead at four o'clock." Throttle jerked upright and tried to look busy. It didn't work.
"Don't you motor mouths have anything better to do then take up space in my garage?" Charlie stalked past them and grabbed a wrench. "Some of us have work to do!"
"Cheese, Charlie-girl. We were just-"
"And would you cut it with that Charlie-girl crap! Charlie, sure, Charlie-ma'am, fine. But damn it, Charlie-girl makes me sound like some street rat! I know you Mice are slack on the respect stuff, but humans aren't, and I've got fighters grinning at me like…" She trailed off as she became aware of the stunned and confused faces on the three Mice and threw her hands in the air, nearly braining Vinnie with the wrench. "Oh, never mind! Go… find something to do!" And she stalked back to the machine she was tweaking on the other side of the expanded garage, leaving the stench of smoked rodent in her wake.
"You guys want to go for a ride?"
"Good idea."
But they were interrupted by a sudden squawk on the radio. Moments later, a pale face appeared on the screen. "Commander Davidson! Oh, god, where's the Commander?"
"I'm right here, Donya. What's going on?" Charlie ran to the screen and pressed the two-way switch.
"You gotta come down here, Commander, it's just awful! They're… they're all… It's horrible!" The young woman's face was streaked with tears, and her eyes were glassy with shock.
"Donya. Donya, honey, you need to calm down. Take a deep breath, and tell me what you've found." Charlie's voice was low and soothing, but Throttle could see that her hands, out of sight of the console, were clenched and white.
Donya gulped for breath. "We were looking through some of the sewers that hadn't been checked, under the old section of the city. Well, you know that Plutarkian lab that you thought they had somewhere? The one you couldn't find? I'm not too clear on where we are exactly, but I think we found it." She hiccupped, clearly on the brink of hysterical sobs.
Charlie took a deep breath of her own. "Okay, sweetie. I want all of you out of there. We'll track you through your communicators. Get up top, and we'll meet you there. Keep a close eye out for any fish heads. Let the others know that I'm on my way. Just keep it together until I get there. Can you do that?" At Donya's jerky nod, she flicked the screen off and turned around to face the trio. "I need you three with me."
Throttle reached toward her uneasily. "Charlie, are you-"
She brushed his hesitant question aside. "I don't have time for that now." She picked up her hand-held and flipped a switch. "Attention, all Fighter units. This is Commander Davidson. I want all available units to meet me at…" she fiddled with a tracker attached to her belt, "at the intersection of Prince and Main. I expect you all to be packing and prepared for possible resistance."
Charlie looked around the garage at the various men and women who had filed in as word of the discovered lab spread during her call. "I want recording equipment. Markers. Body bags. If this is what I think it is, it's not going to be pretty. You need to puke, do it, but do it outside." Her grin was tight and sick. "We will, after all, be in the sewers. I'm heading over. Get there with the equipment ASAP."
* * *
Charlie was right. It wasn't pretty. The lab had been the equivalent of an on-planet prison camp. Throttle had watched, throat tight, as men and women, both young and old, cried unashamedly while they went about their grisly task of cleaning up. Several did in fact have to drop everything, caught in the clutches of nausea. The Plutarkian scientists had done their job all too well. Some of the … things… in the tubes and on the tables were just barely recognizable as human.
They had run out of body bags.
Charlie had gritted her teeth and ordered people to start using extra-large heavy-duty garbage bags while a group ran back to search for more.
At one point, when no one was watching, he had crossed behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. The strength there had surprised him, as always. For all that he knew what she was capable of, it didn't seem possible for so much power to rest in and on such a fragile-looking body.
"How did ya know this was here? Did they tell you? Were you…" he had to ask, "Did they keep ya here?"
Charlie had shaken her head grimly. "No. This place was established after I was taken off planet. But I heard them talking about it. Goddamn scientists sounded so pleased with themselves. I've spent the last few years looking for it, but the sewer system under Chicago is so big, it was a toss-up that we'd find it." She looked around at her people, and Throttle could see as she forcefully restrained tears of her own. "Well, we found it, all right."
He could understand her need to appeal strong, untouchable. He had felt the same thing when leading Mice back on Mars.
Now, hours later, it seemed as though every single Freedom Fighter had packed him or herself into the Warehouse. He could understand that too, the need to simply be with members of your race, to reassure yourself that you were still alive, still healthy. The building was unusually quiet, as people softly comforted each other, and shed a last few tears for the horrors they had seen that day.
Charlie sighed next to him. "It's gonna take a few days for everyone to get back to normal. Most of these people have seen some combat, but I can think of only a handful that've actually seen or experienced a prison camp or lab. I just hope the Fish-heads lie low for a while."
Throttle nodded silently. There was really nothing he could say, and he accepted that. He was one of the few that Charlie included in her small count. He knew exactly what she meant.
A minor commotion near the door caught their attention, and Throttle noticed Charlie's jaw tighten as several groups called for the newcomer's attention. It was the pregnant woman. Mai-ling smiled and rubbed her belly gently as she waved to everyone and joined a table.
He glanced at Charlie from the corner of her eye. Could Modo be right? There was a definite tension, an unhappiness, that hadn't been there a moment ago. "Charlie-girl? You okay?"
"Dandy. I'm heading home." And with that, the petite woman grabbed her jacket and started toward the door.
He caught Modo and Vinnie's eyes and nodded after her. They nodded back and relaxed against the bar. He'd go after her, find out what was wrong.
By the time he'd made his way through the doors, Baby Doll's taillights were all that remained visible against the dark night. With a muttered curse, he whistled for his own bike and hopped on. "C'mon, Sweetie, can ya catch 'er?" The bike revved its engine in reply and took off.
* * *
Charlie swung off of Baby Doll and kicked an empty paint can into the wall. The harsh clatter was satisfyingly loud in the silent garage, but it wasn't nearly enough to dispel the angry hurt boiling inside. "Damn it!" she screamed. "It's just not fucking fair!"
Baby Doll blinked her lights and rumbled soothingly. "Sorry, hon, it's okay. I'll get over it." Charlie patted the bike reassuringly and climbed up through the trap door. It seemed that everyone was over at the Warehouse, which meant she had the entire headquarters to herself. Well, that was fine; she didn't want anyone to hear her anyway.
Throwing her jacket into the office, she continued up to the fourth floor, to her rooms. They weren't fancy. Just what she'd managed to save of her old furniture, plus some new stuff the Fighters had found for her.
A full-length mirror hung across the den. Charlie crossed to it and looked at her reflection. The long auburn hair was her one pride and joy when it came to her appearance. It fell loosely to her waist, the weight comfortable against her neck.
The Plutarkians had liked it too.
She shook her head, banishing that thought. The past was the past, and everyone who had hurt her was dead.
She'd killed most of them herself.
One hand slowly moved from her side to cover her abdomen.
"It's not fair," she whispered again.
"Why don't you like Mai-Ling?"
The deep voice from behind her pushed a startled shriek from her throat. Whirling, Charlie pulled her gun from its holster and aimed toward the intruder. When she saw who it was –she should have recognized his voice- she sighed.
"What do you want, Throttle? I'm not really in the mood right now."
The large golden-furred Mouse didn't answer immediately, choosing instead to look around. "It's nice," he said. "Almost like your old apartment."
"I'll be sure to give to compliment to my interior decorator. Throttle, I'd like you to leave now."
Again, he ignored her scarcely veiled order, studying her. He'd removed his field specs on the way up, and the way his eyes moved over her body made her want to blush, to squirm, to throw herself into his arms and forget about the rest of the world.
Charlie shook the thought off and glared at him.
"I wanna know why ya look so unhappy every time you see Mai-Ling." He repeated his original question.
She shook her head. "That's none of your business."
"You didn't have a problem with her before. I would'a remembered. So why's her havin' a baby suddenly got you so peeved?" Throttle's voice was quiet, calm.
"Why does it matter?" She knew her voice sounded desperate, but she couldn't help it. "Why do you care? It's my problem, and I'm dealing with it by myself!"
"By hidin' the hurt away, hopin' no one'll see it? That's not dealin', Charlie-girl. That's runnin' away, and I never thought I'd see ya do that. I thought you were stronger then that." That soothing, commanding voice was bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Closer to telling him everything. But it was her secret, her pain, and she couldn't see him know.
"Yeah, well, I never thought you wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Damn it, Throttle, you've heard most of my deep dark secrets, can't you leave me one?" She hadn't meant to even say that much.
Now he was studying her again. "What haven't you told me, Charlie-girl?"
"Nothing!" She spun away, and stalked into the kitchen, where she grabbed a soda from the fridge. "Why can't you just keep your stupid fuzzy face outta my business? So what if I don't want to tell you everything? That's my business! Now get out of my apartment and go home!" She struggled with the bottle top, unable to pry the stubborn metal up.
His patient hand reached around her to take the bottle, opening it effortlessly. "Now you're just being a coward."
She slapped him. Hauled back her hand and smacked him across the snout. "Fuck you!" She lashed out again and again with her fists, striking the surprised Mouse on his head, shoulders, chest. "Who asked you to come back and mess up my life again? I was doing fine! Fine! But you just won't let up, won't stop prying. I finally get my life back together, and you burst in and start pulling everything apart!"
Throttle finally overcame his shock and grabbed her fists, pulling her to his chest. She fought him, thrashing and even biting in her struggle to get away. At last, he grabbed her shoulders and thrust her back against the wall. "Get a hold over yourself, Charlene! I'm trying ta help! So what's one stupid pregnant human done to get you so upset?! You don't even like kids!"
Blinded by anger and hurt, Charlie lost control of the words she had held so tightly to, and they ripped themselves from her chest. "Well, I'll never get to know now! They took even that away from me! I can't ever have a baby!"
* * *