21
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After about 15 minutes of driving, Darien realized he hadn't a clue where he was, at least not beyond somewhere in a suburb of DC proper. He wasn't even certain he could retrace the route back to the down-at-the-heels motel he and Hobbes had spent a better part of the afternoon and evening crashing at. It'd been just one step up from a place that catered to - ahem - professional women, whose clients were almost exclusively named "John," and charged room rates by the hour. Darien suspected that the overweight and sweaty man who handed over the key had simply assumed that they were themselves there for no more than an afternoon tryst, but at the time he couldn't have cared less. He'd wanted no more than a handful of painkillers, to curl up on his side and pass out for a couple of hours. He was still sporting the bruises from their first encounter with Lee and Co. and he was certain the black and purple marks would never fade now that they were three and four deep in places on his torso.
But right now, that pain was a distant concern as he tried to find his way towards something, anything even vaguely familiar in this city of strangeness and duplicity. He gave it up as a bad job when he recognized a community building from this circle of suburbia hell he was apparently trapped in as he drove by it for a third time. With a hint of unavoidable fear, he reached out to where Alyx was huddled about herself in the passenger seat, as far away from him as she could possibly get within the confines of the vehicle, and set a gentle hand on her shoulder.
She shuddered for a long moment and then turned just enough so that he swung into range of her peripheral vision. "What?" It came out far more like the whimper of a wounded animal than a verbal response.
"'Fraid I'm lost, baby. Can you get me to the highway? Or at least somewhere other than," He caught the name of the town on a sign as he turned down what he hoped was a new street, "Foxhall." He chuckled, deciding that the name of the area filled with pretentious and most certainly overpriced homes wasn't too bad.
"Foxhall? Is that where we're at?" She seemed to be utterly confused, as if her memory had taken a sudden vacation.
"Yeah." Darien debated pulling over, but figured it was better to just keep moving because there was always the risk she'd lose the tenuous hold she had on her mind and just take off into the wilds. He mentally shook his head. Right, the wilds of Maryland, or wherever the hell they actually were. "If you can just get me to 95..."
"Gotta get to my apartment," she interrupted, and then twitched, her fist slamming into the passenger door.
"All right," Darien agreed, not about to question her choice. Whichever her she might be, right now. He'd figured out within seconds of her appearance at Keller's that something was wrong, drastically wrong. It hadn't taken much of a leap of logic to ascertain exactly what it was, especially since the worn spot in his head where Alyx lived had begun screaming in unhappiness the instant she had leveled her gaze upon him. Even Hobbes had picked up on it, but poor Graywolf hadn't had a clue and appeared to be acting as little more than another puppet dancing on the strings that Alyx had controlled. "Just tell me where to go and I'll get you there as quick as I can."
She laughed harshly. "Oh, yeah, I'll gladly tell you where to go'." She grabbed her head in her hands, fingers digging into the scalp as if trying to get to the cause of her distress. "Stop it. Stop it. Stop it!" Each repetition was markedly louder than the previous; the final one shouted and came damn near to deafening him in the close confines of the Hummer.
One of her hands snapped out to land atop his right, where it rested on the steering wheel, and he was suddenly inundated with information: maps, street names, short cuts, back roads, the best routes for any and every time of day. "Shit," he hissed between clenched teeth, doing his damnedest to keep the car on the road and mostly in his lane as pain stabbed like a laser beam through his eyes to impact the back of his skull. It eased after a few seconds and when it did, he knew exactly where he was and how to get to her apartment over near Langley. "Got it. Oh, and ow."
She jerked her hand away as if burned and sank back into herself. "Sorry," she said in a tiny voice.
"Hey, don't get upset. It was the quickest way to give me the info." He reached out to touch her only to have his hand stopped cold.
"Don't, please. You... you have no idea what's happening. What I want to do right now." She released him and he placed his hand back on the steering wheel, amazed it was still intact and suspecting it being unharmed had been a close call. "Gods, what I could make you do with no effort at all."
He didn't allow her words to faze him, to allow the fear, which simmered beneath the surface to boil upwards where it could be felt, or to question her. Just the fact that she was fighting to hold on was a good sign, as it had been plain to him she'd been reveling in the megalomaniacal left turn she'd taken sometime in the last day or so. "Does it involve sex?" He asked in hopes of easing some of the tension he could feel thrumming through her body even from a couple of feet away.
She snorted softly, then growled; her knuckles turning white, fingernails surely leaving bloody marks on her palms as she fought to maintain her hold on her sense of self. "Eventually," she responded after a long silent moment, "but I doubt you'd enjoy it much."
That was enough to keep Darien silent for the remainder of the drive to her place.
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Once inside the apartment, a hand pressed to her forehead as if in pain, Alyx made a beeline for her bedroom with Darien following along both out of curiosity and concern. For all he knew she was going to get her back-up gun and use it on herself, so he was prepared for anything, except, perhaps, to watch her attempt to open a locked drawer in her bureau. After a moment of struggle, where she tried to fit a tiny key in its matching lock, she gave up and with a wordless growl simply ripped the thing open with her mind. Her hands visibly shaking, she reached into the drawer, only to freeze, unable to move forward another millimeter.
Darien walked over to stand beside her and withdrew the hard case that sat within. "This what you need?"
She nodded and took it from him, her body momentarily under her control. She moved swiftly over to the bed, the case unfolding to reveal the contents within. If it were anyone else, Darien would suspect she were nothing more than a junkie jonesing for a long overdue fix, but he knew better and had a fair guess as to what lay within the two vials carefully packed inside. She withdrew the vial with the blue label and a syringe. She snapped the plastic cap off hurriedly and tried valiantly to insert one into the other. It was a vibrant battle of opposing wills, one, the hopefully dominant one, trying to force the syringe into the stopper and pull the contents into the glass tubing, the others causing hands to shake and inarticulate growls of rage and irritation to escape past clenched teeth. He wished to god he could help her, but knew the slightest shift, internally or externally, could cause the battle to be lost in an instant.
Alyx succeeded in her goal, the syringe half filled with a slightly golden substance. She sat on the bed and looked up at him, her eyes looking wild in the dim light of the room, the only outward sign of her continued struggle, as she had clearly secured control over her body. She rolled up her sleeve, not bothering with the rubber tourniquet that was in the case, and slid the needle into the prominent vein in her forearm.
"I'm going to have a very unpleasant reaction to this," she said, the words precise and clipped, as if afraid to relax her hold for even one instant. "Don't freak more than necessary, okay?" Her voice broke on the last word, her fear lacing the two short syllables.
"Okay," he agreed and watched as she depressed the plunger in one quick motion. She removed it as soon as the contents had been emptied into her system, carefully set the syringe aside, and lay back on the bed. He had no idea what was going to happen, so when she groaned, her neck arching back in what look like extreme pain, her request of don't freak' went flying out the window. He reached out to her just as her entire body decided to join the party, every muscle tensing, her back arching bow-tight and mouth opening in a silent scream.
"Shit." He quickly moved and shifted her until she lay with her head across his thighs, hoping to help, somehow. He was certain that the contents of the vial were some form of inhibitor, but he'd never before seen a reaction like this to it. Then again, he'd never seen her given a dose quite so large. "Damn it, Chele, what did you go an' do?"
For the second time that night, he experienced an unexpected bout of perfect timing as she went limp in his arms. "Had to, D," she slurred. "Had to increase the dose proportionally to the increase of my powers."
"Oh," he responded intelligently. "Duh." He brushed a stray hair off her forehead. "Do high doses always cause that kind of reaction?"
She slowly pushed herself upright, shaking her head as if to clear cobwebs from it. "Uh-huh." Then, much to his shock, she reached out for the case again, removed the second, red labeled vial and another syringe, this one markedly thinner than the first. He vaguely recalled her mentioning she got some of her supplies through an insulin distributor. All were designed for a single use and to be disposed of later. The case contained three of each type and he knew she refilled her supply as needed when she was home in Newport. She filled the syringe to the brim and handed it to him, her hands bobbing and weaving now, and he could only pray it was a normal reaction to such a high dose of inhibitor.
"I need you to give me that, now."
He eyed the needle warily as he took it, no longer willing to just do as she said since the voices echoing in her head had been shut down by force. "What is it?"
"Sedative. You do not want me awake for the drive."
"'Chele..."
"No, Darien, you have no choice. You know I burn through the inhibitor. There's no telling how long that dose will last." She paused, her head drooping for a moment. "Though I think I might have overdone it a bit. I'm more than a might fuzzy about the edges right now."
"Damn it, are you trying to kill yourself?" He knew, thanks to her previous adventure into heavy inhibitor use, that it could dull more than just her extra abilities, it could shut down needed neural pathways, impairing even basic brain functions.
"Might be better if I did," she muttered. "Hell. I don't want to fight about this now. Would you please just trust me, even though I know I don't deserve it?"
Not trust her? When did he even hint that he no longer trusted her? "Baby, it's not that. If I try to walk out of here with you unconscious I'm gonna have security all over my ass." She groaned, clearly realizing he was correct on that score. "And... and if you're out cold with all that inhibitor in you something could go wrong. I need you awake, just in case."
She looked as if she were going to argue, but instead flopped back onto the covers, gazing up at him. "A half dose then. It's specially designed to interfere with my ability to focus my powers. I'll be loopy, but semi-conscious. You can give me the rest if I decide to try and take over the world again." She closed her eyes and dragged an arm over her face, hiding them from the light. "Please," she begged softly. "I don't want to hurt you and... and I can't promise I won't."
Darien didn't bother to answer with words, allowing actions to do so for him. He took the arm that hid her eyes from him, straightened it, and slid the thin needle sweetly into the muscle of her forearm. She didn't even flinch, her eyes coming open only half-way as she watched him from beneath her lashes. She moaned softly as the drug hit her system, like that aforementioned junkie finally getting what was craved, her body going from tense to pliable as he watched. When half the contents were gone, he withdrew the needle, recapped it, and set it back into its slot in the padded case. He was truly hoping he wouldn't need the remainder.
"Sweet thing, you okay?"
"No," she whimpered as tears escaped to roll down her cheeks. He lifted her to his chest and she wrapped her arms as tightly about him as she could manage. "I'm so sorry. So very sorry."
"Shush. We'll deal with it later," he soothed, but she simply kept repeating her apology over and over again until the tears wore themselves out.
He helped her get cleaned up, the contents of the case secured and then he wrapped an arm about her as she staggered back out to the Hummer. He got them back on the road less than an hour after they had arrived at her apartment. Once on the highway proper, Michele - he couldn't seem to think of her as Alyx at the moment - dozing in the passenger seat, he dug out his cell phone and dialed. After only three rings, there was an answer at the other end, though the hour was late for a call.
"Mike, we have a problem."
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The snow was melting, water dripping off the trees even at this, to many people, godforsaken hour of the night. Once upon a time, this had been when he went to work. When he'd start his climb up the side of a building, or pick that tricky lock to gain entrance to the domicile he planned on relieving of it's precious possessions. But now... now it was simply 3 a.m. after an incredibly long day and a nerve-wracking drive with a woman who wasn't sure who she was from one moment to the next.
His skin still crawled from her last effort at trying to gain entry to his mind, but the drugs and his passable ability to block her had been enough to prevent her from doing anything of value. He hadn't been forced to give her more of the sedative, but suspected the inhibitor was nearing the end of its usefulness, even though Chele seemed to be huddled in upon herself and unaware of everything about her.
He didn't bother with the garage, just pulled the Hummer off to one side and silenced the engine. The interior began to cool immediately, but there was no movement from Chele, so he stepped out into the cold night air and walked about to her side. He opened the door, unbuckled her, and picked her up in his arms. He could feel the struggle going on within her, her exhausting fight to keep all those other versions of herself from gaining control for even an instant. Even with the inhibitor dulling her powers, those other personas remained awake and vying for dominance of the body and mind. How the supposedly banished Phase III personas had made a comeback was beyond him, but it was obvious they were what were wreaking havoc with her.
He could only hope Mike would be able to help her, instead of creating yet more problems.
He carried her up the steps and across the wide porch, the door swinging open as he approached, Mike moving aside so that they could enter with ease. Darien stood there, debating whether to take Chele up to her room or down to the med-lab when Rose's voice broke the silence.
"Mom, you are back." She turned to glare at her uncle who had moved up beside Darien. "I knew you were lying."
"Damn it, Rose. Go to bed," Mike snapped, surprising Darien with the harshness of the words. Normally the kids' far too gregarious for their own good natures were handled with heavy sighs and rolled eyes by their adult guardians. Mike must be even more worried than Darien was.
Michele shifted in Darien's hold to look at her daughter. "Well, well, Rose, being a bad girl are we? I'll have to come up with a suitable punishment."
Darien just about gagged at the thoughts and emotions that oozed off of Chele, and he was only catching the periphery of them, the full details would probably make him want to scrub his mind clean with hydrochloric acid. In a tightly controlled voice Darien admonished her, "'Chele, you will not do that."
She stiffened in his arms, another battle of wills taking place, this one plainly far more difficult that those previous, but in the end she won. With a wail she hissed, "Get away from me," at Rose, who could only stare, dumbfounded at her mother. Chele turned away and buried her head against Darien's shoulder. "Gods, get her away from me. Now, damn it!"
Mike was there then. "Give her to me."
Darien didn't hesitate and handed Michele over to her twin, who swiftly carried her from the room. Where to, Darien didn't see, as he took two long steps forward and squatted down before Rose. "Honey, she didn't mean that," he tried to assure the plainly shaken child.
She shuddered, blinked, and swallowed with obvious difficulty. "That was not mom," she stated.
Darien couldn't help but agree. The woman he knew would never allow thoughts such as those he'd brushed up against be more than idle speculation, things she'd worry that others might do with her children. For her to consider exploiting them that way for her own pleasure was something she was incapable of doing. "No it wasn't. And it's why Mike wanted you in bed and asleep when we arrived, you little minx." He hoped the spontaneous nicknaming would ease the horror he could still see etched on the girl's face.
"Minx? You're just trying to suck up to me," she grumbled, but the effort was rewarded as she relaxed, a tiny smile curving her lips upwards.
"Maybe? Is it working?" Darien winked and stood up, gesturing towards the kitchen. "Come on, a glass of warm milk and then back to bed for you."
"Milk?" Rose repeated, eyebrows shooting upwards in imitation of her mother. "Do I look five to you?"
"Nope." Darien wandered over to the refrigerator while Rose climbed up onto the counter to get down glasses from the cabinet. Instead of hopping back onto the floor, she sat on the edge, her feet kicking slowly, heels banging into the door below in a quick thud-thud-pause. He walked over to her, carrying a pitcher he knew to contain fruit juice and poured some into each of the glasses. "You all right?"
She shrugged. "I'm fine, it's mom I'm worried about. What happened?" She picked up one of the glasses and sipped from it.
Darien turned about and leaned against the counter next to her, one hand running through his hair. "Not a frickin' clue. I just know when we left here she was doing okay..."
"Other than being pissed off, you mean," Rose interrupted.
"Other than being pissed off," Darien agreed. "When she showed up in DC she was.... like that." He drained the liquid and pushed away to set the empty container in the sink. "She would never hurt you, you know that, right?" Crap, Michele would hate herself if the children became afraid of her. It was the stuff of nightmares - literally - for her.
"I know, but that didn't make the experience any less freaky." She slid off the counter and returned the pitcher to the fridge. "This happened before, right? When she was still working for the Agency?"
"This? No, nothing like this," Darien answered, his voice soft. And it was true enough; what had happened with the Phase III programming two years ago was nothing, a will o the wisp in comparison to the barely contained sun-god-like power within Chele now. Back then she'd been all jumbled, swapping from one persona to another randomly, or later dealing with the merged versions, but she'd regained control and continued on with her life, a little worse for wear. "I wish I knew what was going on."
"You and me both," Mike stated as he entered the room. "Five minutes, young lady, and then back to bed. You will be attending school in the morning no matter what."
Rose snapped her uncle a crisp salute. "Sir, yes, sir." Then meekly, "Is she okay?"
"Asleep." Mike met Darien's eyes. "She was exhausted."
"Is it... safe to leave her alone?" Darien didn't want to worry Rose any more than necessary, but his previous experience with those other personas meant he knew exactly how sneaky and manipulative she could be.
Mike nodded. "I gave her a sedative and I'm keeping an eye on her, so to speak." He tapped the side of his head, to signal that he was mentally eavesdropping on her. "She's a mess."
"So I gathered," Darien said dryly. "Any clue as to why?"
Mike rubbed his eyes. "Maybe. I'm going to make a few calls." He sighed heavily. "Time to call in a few favors I'm owed."
"Let me know if you need any help breaking knees or the like." Darien managed a grin, one he was certain came across far more like a grimace of pain than anything that actually reflected happiness.
"I'll do that. Now if you'll excuse me..."
Darien nodded and Mike left the room, presumably for the office downstairs. Darien turned to Rose, "So piggyback ride and then a bedtime story? Goldilocks maybe?"
"Darien, you are so weird," Rose stated primly, but didn't hesitate to climb on Darien's back when he crouched down. "I've started Stranger in a Strange Land, you can read a chapter of that. Provided you can handle something beyond the Cliff Notes version, that is."
Darien chuckled. "Wait, you mean I have to read the big words? I don't know..."
Rose's laughter helped to ease the fear lying heavy on his soul as he carried her up the stairs.
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It was hard to believe it had been only a few days since he'd last been here. The snow was gone, except for a few dirty patches that hid in the deeper shadows under the canopy of the evergreens. Instead, the ground was a muddy, mucky mess that squished with every step. Of course, there was the fact that the temperature had soared to a comparatively balmy 50 degrees in the bright sunlight, which meant he didn't need to bundle up in a parka and mukluks to go outdoors. Spring had finally arrived to the frozen northeast. Yet, for all that, he felt chilled, and not just because of the occasional icy drop that fell from the branches above and unfailingly down the collar of the borrowed sweater he wore.
Darien stood at the end of the pathway, not quite ready to enter the tiny glade it opened out onto. Before him was the hammock that was strung between two trees that seemed to lean precariously out over the deep gray Atlantic. Seated in said hammock was his reason for muddying the shoes and dampening the socks he wore. Michele had her back to him; a blanket wrapped about her to ward off the hint of winter that remained in the air. She was slumped down, managing to look smaller than even Rose, while she tried to hide from the world. She'd been avoiding everyone in the house since Mike had made his diagnosis and dosed her on inhibitors to help her maintain control.
Darien had come out here in hopes of getting her to do something other than wander off to brood by herself.
"Go away, please," was the plaintive plea.
"Can't," he stated, guessing that she'd heard his approach. "I was kinda hoping you'd be willing to talk to me."
"What do you want me to say?" For an instant her head turned so that he could see her in profile, her face pale and eyes sad, then it was the back of her head, the fiery red locks doing little do brighten the mood. "It's better if you stay away from me. Even with the inhibitor... They're still there, at the edge of my mind, taunting, plotting, and planning, just not in control. And in the rare moments that there's quiet I have to fight off another panic attack 'cause I can't feel anything."
Darien swallowed hard. He'd forgotten all about her panic attacks. No wonder she'd insisted on being sedated for the drive here, if she'd gone and freaked on the ride up it could have be disastrous. He walked forward, picking his steps carefully to avoid the worst of the puddles, until he stood directly behind her. "Let me help," he offered sincerely. "What went wrong? Mike said something about the Phase III personas, but it didn't make any sense. I thought they'd been... what's the word?"
"Integrated?" she supplied.
"Yeah, that's it. Integrated." He wanted to reach out and set a hand on her shoulder, to show that he was going to stand behind her no matter what, but sensed she wasn't ready for it.
She sighed heavily. "They were. Pressure from the programming breakdown and then the influx of power caused them to fragment back into their original forms." She tilted her head up, as if looking up to the cloudless sky above. "Did you know there are six dominant and a dozen minor personas stuffed in my head? Including one ruthless assassin?" She laughed bitterly. "Another one would put Mata Hari to shame in the seduction department."
Now was the time to show his support, and he set a hand on her shoulder. He was relieved when she tipped her head slightly to rub her cheek along his fingers. "How? I mean, I thought Heilburg's programming was screwed up?"
She nodded. "The original programming was, and that's what Claire had been told was used. Mike twisted some arms and got his hands on the real files." She turned her head to meet his eyes. "It was a new version of the programming, more stable. My breakdown in Cabo was caused by a combination of the enhancer and Arnaud giving the persona's free rein. I ended up with an amalgam personality that was flakier than pie crust."
Darien chuckled at her oddly accurate metaphor. "Can't Mike just... erase the personas?"
"No. They're directly tied to facets of my base instincts, like self-preservation. He'd risk erasing parts of my basic emotions and personality to do so." She shuddered lightly, plainly not liking that option. "There wouldn't be much of me left. Mikey is working on alternatives."
Darien curved his hand under her chin, his thumb rubbing along her jaw. "Why the hell would Heilburg bother doing that to you?" he mused aloud.
"D, he was ordered to do it," 'Chele informed him, making him freeze in place for a long second.
"What? The Official said it was done without his authority." That was what Darien remembered anyway.
"Yeah, that's what the Official said," she agreed. "The implanted personas are too precise and specifically designed to work with the programming that allows me access to various levels of power." She shifted so that she could look up at him with ease. "Think about it, Darien. He'd not only get an agent with special abilities, but an expert in just about every aspect of the spook biz without having to invest in tedious and costly training. Just flip a mental switch or two and she's ready to go."
"Only something went wrong," Darien muttered.
"Only something went wrong and the power control failed... utterly, and I blew the place apart." Her look hardened. "The Official ended up paying for all that training anyway. That must have pissed off the cheap bastard to no end." The ironic tone was heavily overlaid with sarcasm.
"Christ," Darien growled, suddenly debating the merits of leaving the Agency then and there. "And I was starting to like the son of a bitch. Maybe..."
"No, you will not quit. You're needed out there, got me?" She was more than just a little adamant and he nodded in acquiescence. Though, he was definitely going to have a talk with Bobby about this revelation. "Darien, if you want to break off our engagement I will fully understand. In fact, I'd recommend it, considering everything..."
"Stop," Darien ordered, tipping his head down to rest atop of hers. "We will get through this together, like always."
"Darien, I don't want to hurt you and with my mind scrambled I might..."
He set a finger over her lips, silencing her. "I'll chance it, baby." She closed her eyes and he took that as temporary submission. "Hey, the tide's down."
"So?" she grumbled.
"Let's go for a walk," he urged, giving her a gentle push of encouragement, which she seemed to ignore. "C'mon, sitting here and brooding isn't doing any good, and it might help with the panic attacks."
She met his eyes; her look lacking any of the confidence he'd grown used to seeing there. "All right." He helped her climb out of the hammock and draped an arm about her shoulders. "I'm sorry, D."
"For what?" he asked, assuming it was nothing more than continued guilt over her behavior in DC.
"I... I tried to seduce Xavier. In London." She paused and turned about to face him. "Thought it would be fun to have both of you to play with." Her cheeks reddened, but it wasn't with embarrassment so much as anger at herself and fear of his reaction, he was sure.
"I know," he told her truthfully. At her look of dumbfounded surprise, he explained, "Xavier called and told me."
Her jaw dropped, literally, and it took a couple minutes before she could form a sentence. "And you still want to get married?"
"Babe, that wasn't you any more than it was me every time I hit full red." Darien expected her usual challenge to that statement and was surprised when she just nodded.
"How can you forgive me?" she asked, sounding confused.
"There is nothing to forgive, 'Chele." He cupped her cheeks and kissed her lightly. Then he took her hands into his and led the way to the short trail that led down to the beach.
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Darien sat in the den nursing a late evening cup of coffee. He'd just seen the kids off to bed, though Dani would probably be at her computer for another hour; being the eldest did have its privileges, even in this family. Michele's mood had improved since yesterday, but she had still been reluctant to be around the kids; claimed her other selves would infallibly begin plotting some nefarious scheme involving them the moment they came within sight no matter how much inhibitor she was dosed with. Mike had mentioned she was burning through it at an astonishing rate, which meant she was attempting to use her abilities almost constantly. It was a testament to 'Chele's inner strength that she had not allowed anything worse than a sudden outburst ordering people away from her, when the voices in her head became too loud and insistent in their wants.
"Hey, bub, you got a moment?" 'Chele asked as she poked her head around the corner.
"Sure, whatcha need?" Darien replied, sitting up straighter and setting the mug down on the table near his elbow.
She entered the room with Mike following behind saying, "We need a favor."
Darien wasn't all that surprised to see Mike. 'Chele had made a point of being in the company of either her brother or himself all day, as a precaution. It was a vast improvement over her lonely self-flagellation. "Okay," he told them, as Mike took a seat on the oversized sectional. 'Chele, on the other hand, paced the length of the room, not able to settle down and relax.
"I need you to stay with the kids for me," she said, sounding nervous.
"All right," Darien answered without hesitation. "Where are you gonna be?"
"We," Mike corrected. "And I can't tell you."
"Won't," Michele added. "Safety reasons, D. I promise you the location is secure. If there's an emergency, the kids know how to contact us, but they won't tell you." She looked almost guilty at the admission.
Darien tried not let his suspicions run rampant and calmly asked, "What's up?"
"Mikey's got a possible solution to my problem, but we can't try it here since I need to be off the inhibitor. The cab... where we're going is remote and there's little risk to anyone else." She stopped her pacing, strode over to stand before him for a moment, then dropped to her knees to look up at him. "Mike's gonna try to set new programming to control my power level."
"Why not just turn the one you have back on?" Darien asked, not questioning their plan, but wanting to understand why.
"It would have the same problems it did before it was shut off," Mike explained. "She'd continue to spike, and now there's a fair chance that when she does one or more of the implanted personalities would respond."
Darien frowned; that was anything but good. "What about the inhibitor? Can't she just use that to reduce her power level?"
"Yes," she answered, "but I would eventually build up a tolerance to it. It is our back-up plan if the new programming doesn't work. It'll buy us some time to find another solution."
Having dealt with his own immunity to the counteragent, Darien could fully understand why they'd want to keep that option in reserve. "So, how would new programming work? You just gonna use Heilburg's technique and start over, or what?" He wasn't thrilled with the idea of her having to undergo more hypnotic mind control, but it seemed to be the only viable option at this point.
'Chele glanced over at her brother, some wordless communication flowing between them, before she sorted out the best way to answer. "Heilburg's Phase I probably wouldn't be very effective. My ability to adapt would break it down within a short span of time, forcing a repeat of the existing situation. No, we're gonna try something completely different." She turned to her twin for what appeared to be support, but he only shrugged in response, making Darien wonder what was going on between the two of them. "This goes no further than us, okay?"
"Of course," Darien assured her, assured them, as Mike seemed to be the more reluctant of the pair to speak about... whatever it was.
Michele nodded. "Mike's more than just an empath. He can... I've nicked it imprinting. He uses it all the time when undercover. He can literally make anyone believe he is the person he's pretending to be. The effect can, and has, lasted for years with some of his contacts." She gave Darien a small smile. "He's going to use his talent to lay a new set of limits for my abilities."
"New? Why not just copy the original ones?" Darien asked in curiosity. The fact that Mike had a few extra talents that tied into his known ones was not anywhere near as big a shock as it might have been for most people. Given how powerful Michele was, Darien just always assumed Mike rivaled her in some manner; they were twins after all.
"The original ones have... worn a groove in her mind, so to speak. One that she's adapted to. If I were to duplicate it, she would quickly find ways around it, resulting in the same problems she's exhibiting now. However, a new set, totally different from the original should not fall apart." Mike leaned back in the seat and rubbed his forehead. "Besides, I think she would prefer something other than screaming headaches every time she pushed things a bit too far. There will still be physical warnings, but not as debilitating as before."
"Oh please," Michele grouched, "they seemed to relish using negative reinforcement at that lab." She shifted to sit with her back against Darien's legs. "Mike's also going to try and find the right balance of power to limits so that I have more'n enough to use, but won't trigger the bonus versions of me."
"I will also attempt to dull the implants, but I can't guarantee success." Mike sighed, looking tired, deservedly so after the last few days.
"How long will this take?" Darien set a hand on 'Chele's shoulder.
"A week, 10 days, maybe. If we haven't had any worthwhile results by then, we go to plan B," Mike responded.
"So you need me to watch the kids that long?" Darien had no problems with that, but was concerned the Official might start getting antsy long before then.
"No, only two. Xavier should be arriving with several agents that the kids have dealt with before, and that we trust, to watch them," Mike told Darien. "The two of you will then return to DC to finish up with the Keller/Lee case. Cavanaugh has already been apprised of the situation with Alyx and has approved the medical leave."
"Damn, you're quick." Darien managed a smile and Michele leaned a cheek against his thigh. "When do you leave?"
"First thing," 'Chele said. "I already spoke to...to..." She paused, as if fighting with herself. "Shit," she muttered, clearly struggling for control.
"The kids know." Darien's statement seemed to ease the conflict within her.
"Yes," Mike confirmed. "You're taking this much better than I expected."
Darien shrugged. "Will it help if I whine or bitch about being left in the dark on 90 percent of this?"
'Chele surprised him with a dry chuckle. "Not a bit, I'm afraid." She sighed. "Believe it or not, there are still quite a few things you don't know about me, or this family."
"Will I get a chance to?" Darien asked her.
She turned about, her chin on his knee. "Gods, I hope so."
