A/N: Once again, thanks to all reviewers. Yes, that last chapter was supposed to be a little not-quite-right sounding, in terms of the D/S bit. We're almost to the end of Part II!
Sing to Life
By JadeRabbyt
Chapter 21: Before the Storm
Gold fields and green mountains and glinting metal buildings—Alex didn't see any of it. He was so damn angry with himself, but he couldn't even be truly angry, because nobody else but him had been responsible for the death of that woman but he had failed to execute her and now nobody else would do it and the whole mess was just driving him crazy; he felt like he was being manipulated all over again, but this time he didn't have anybody or anything to blame it on.
So he rocketed across the landscape, led by the nose to he-didn't-know-where. He'd been dunked on his head, any semblance of sense eradicated. Dizzy and blinded and confused and, more than anything, tired, Alex just wanted to sleep the world away. It's what he would have done if those idiots hadn't woken him up in the crater.
The fields ended, and another city rose up before him. He shook off the other concerns long enough to wonder what was leading him, but he couldn't tell. He sensed something like a magnetic pull, but the source and the medium? Could be anything, but given his luck and the nature of his life, Alex guessed it was most likely that black crap. His mouth drooped open. He'd get wherever he was going and sleep until forever—that much was certain, if he had anything to do with it. Which he probably wouldn't.
Alex's mind ran circles, alternating between furious and frustrated and confused and, continuously, exhaustion. At last he reached something that looked familiar, and he shook himself awake enough to take a look around. Warehouses: grungy, dirty warehouses on the outskirts of some city—Amity, he knew instinctively. The home of his enemies and his victims, of course it would have taken him to Amity.
He drifted down through a roof, coming into sight of his victims thrown carelessly atop each other. A wearied, nostalgic smile crept across his face. Things had been so much easier back then. Here, the dirty, shameful mess of his life seemed acceptable. What was done was done, and he was back among his elements and his home, whatever that was worth.
A second floor balcony looked out over the first floor, a rusted crane still mounted atop it. Alex drifted up and moved back against the wall, in the shadows and the damp and the stale, rotten stench of mildew. He laid down, spreading his arm under his head for a pillow, and fell asleep within moments.
XXX
"What do you mean you lost him?" Johnson glared at McKinley, waiting, as were the Chiefs of Staff and the President on teleconferencing, for an answer. The six men sat in a meeting room, with the President on a screen at the front of the table.
McKinley kept himself expressionless. He hadn't thought it would be so easy to face the end of his career, but here it was, and here he was, perfectly calm. "Our research department did not anticipate—"
"Fifty-two men are dead, Director McKinley." The President spoke slowly. "Fifty-two dead, a complete breach of your 'impenetrable' facility, and now Alex, a veritable nuclear weapon, so you tell us, is missing! Where your guys all asleep?"
"The field of ectoscience is undeveloped, to say the least. We've had few viable test subjects."
"And you won't have another. Johnson is taking over."
Johnson flashed a smile. "I'm all over it, sir."
McKinley leaned closer to the screen. "Alright. But I must recommend that he take some of my people on for the job."
Johnson snorted. "The FBI can do quite well without the interference of the FBP." He spoke the last acronym with snobbish disdain.
"Hopefully you'll do better than you did at the crater. Dan— Inviso-Bill and the rest would have escaped without trouble if I hadn't stepped in. I can give weapons and expertise. You don't have to take orders, but you must take suggestions." McKinley shook his head earnestly. "These things are not humans in the conventional sense, Johnson."
Johnson wasn't convinced, but McKinley was relieved to hear the President back him up. "Fine. Johnson, take McKinley's scientists. McKinley, you're relieved of duty until further notice."
McKinley ran his fingers through his hair, what little there was of it. "Yes sir."
"You seem to be taking this awfully well." Johnson crossed his arms, the ghost of a smile tracing his face.
"I don't like you Johnson, but I don't want the world to blow up either. If you think you can prevent that better than I, then you've got my full support."
For some reason, this declaration of confidence did little to inspire the FBI's director. In fact, he looked slightly shaken. The reaction didn't surprise McKinley, who knew very well that Johnson couldn't catch a ghost any better than he could catch an incoming meteor. God willing, Danny still had an ace up his sleeve. You never could tell with those ghost-types.
XXX
Jazz dragged herself through the front door, reveling in all those old house smells she'd never minded before. The creak of the steps, the chips in the table and the perpetually efficient look of the family kitchen seemed all too unappreciated after last night's adventure. What was it today, Saturday? That had definitely been among the worst Fridays of her life.
"I'm going to go unpack." In spite of this declaration, Jazz dumped her bags at the foot of the steps.
"You did your best, honey," her mother called after her. Jazz tried not to think about the thick bandage strapped across her mother's shoulders.
Jack harrumphed. "We'll get him, Jazzmine. Don't worry."
"Sure we will." Jazz shoved open her door and thumped down on her bed, enjoying the soft covers under her back before remembering her little brother. She got up and walked down the hall. His door was open and the room was empty. Unable to muster the energy to worry—Danny could take care of himself than any of them could, anyway—she picked up the phone and dialed Tucker.
"Hello?" The answering voice sounded guarded, a little hostile, but it was definitely Tucker.
"Hi Tucker, this is Jazz. Listen, have you seen Danny around? He's not here..."
"Try Sam's," came the short response. Jazz was on the verge of inquiring further when Tucker hung up on her.
She put the phone down and looked at the ceiling, trying to remember Sam's number. At last she poked around in Danny's desk, eventually finding something scrawled with what might be Sam's number. Jazz punched it in. The phone rang several times before anybody picked up. "Hello?"
"Sam, is Danny there? I haven't been able to—"
The phone crackled as voices drifted through the background. A different voice came on. "Jazz?"
Jazz gasped. "Danny? Are you okay?"
A quiet shiver drifted up her spine as he laughed. "Pretty much, yeah. But I wouldn't recommend going outside. Ever. The Fentons are pretty popular these days."
"Danny, get home right now. What are you doing at Sam's place this early, anyway?"
"Erm..."
"Danny!" Jazz shouted. If anything had happened.
"No no! It's nothing... I just got chased around last night, and I had to crash at her place."
"Did you crash at her place, or did you crash on her."
The phone scratched as he sighed into it, exasperated. "Give me a break, Jazz. And keep your voice down. Nothing happened."
Jazz kept her end quiet. The silence built up between them like water behind a dam.
"Okay, so maybe we kissed a little, but I swear that's all. Not that it's any of your business anyway."
Jazz put her hand to her head. She believed him, but still... "I know things are bad. Alex escaped and killed a lot of people in the process, but we can't give up. We can beat him."
"Sure we can. Are Mom and Dad okay?"
Jazz bit her lip, picking at a few papers on his desk. "Mom got hurt. She's okay, though."
"Great."
"Just don't give up. Say it."
"Say what?"
"Say you won't give up."
"It's been nice talking to you, Dr. Jazz, but I've really got to go."
"I'll call back." Jazz frowned into the phone. "I'll call and I'll call and I'll call until you say it." Danny didn't respond to this familiar ploy. "You know I'll do it."
"Fine! I won't give up. Just stop bothering me." The answer was sarcastic, but not without good humor.
"Alright. I'll see you... when?"
"I'll be home in an hour. I still have to check something with Tucker."
XXX
When Danny came home, Jazz was in bed, fully clothed and atop her covers, reading. She'd been giving some serious thought to a nap when a vibration throughout the house and a loud slam announced the arrival of her brother.
She got up and opened her door, watching him stomp up the steps. "Things didn't go so well with Tucker?"
Danny shrugged. "Getting there." He smiled a little at Jazz. Dared she think that he almost looked happy to see her?
"I'm sure things will work out. If you need a, um..." What was a better phrase than the too-formal 'conflict mediator'? "Person to go between you guys, I can—"
He shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll handle it." He walked past her into his room.
Jazz stood a moment longer, debating the feasibility of pressing him. At length she sighed and retreated to her own, pulling out a notebook for journaling. Sometimes that helped her think more clearly. Her pen was still poised above the paper when Danny, without so much as a warning knock, slammed open her door.
"Did you say Alex escaped?"
Jazz nodded. "What about it?"
"I think I know where he is." Danny drummed his fingers against her doorpost, looking nervous and mildly astonished at his own sudden realization.
"Please tell me that you have McKinley's number."
"I do... But how do you know where Alex is?"
Danny looked at the floor. "I found his old victims. He'll have gone there."
"Why would he go someplace like that? When I talked to him—"
"It's not just that. I found his bodies and there is a lot of that black stuff around, and... well..."
"Well what?"
Danny bit his lip. "I can kind of feel him." He pointed to his temple. "In here. I know it sounds crazy, but I'm sure that's exactly where he is."