EIGHT
The streets appeared empty, lifeless, save for dirty newspapers and empty shopping bags that danced by them. Wind, cold wind, hit Shawn in the face, attesting to the fact that this wasn't an illusion. Far from it. Bright lights pooled over a small circumference, illuminating the shabby police station. He'd never been to this section of town before.
The silver cuffs glinted under the street lamps, fascinating Shawn. Each step was numb, wooden, almost as if he knew it was just a very bad dream. And soon...soon someone would shake him awake, or the alarm would go off and he'd just lie still a minute, glad to be there. Safe and secure in the familiar confines of his bedroom.
"Move it."
The hand at Shawn's elbow jerked him to the present. It helped, along with the damp, chilly air to clear his head.
He had to contact Uncle Tommy.
Where was Maia?
The tall returnee tried to turn around, hoping to spot the girl and give her reassurance, but she was being escorted in a different direction.
Swallowed by shadows.
"Um, the little girl. Maia. You need to-"
"It'll be taken care of." Curtly.
Shawn wet his lips. "She's staying with Diana Skouris, NTAC-"
"And you're Tom Baldwin's nephew. It doesn't impress me, kid."
"When can I call-"
"Inside."
Shawn wasn't looking, stumbling a little on the uneven steps. He felt the officer's grip biting into his arm, tried to ease it a little. The men were treating him like-
A 4400.
"Where are you taking me?"
"You're going in a holding cell."
"You can't-"
"Kid-" the fingers on Shawn's arm dug deeper-"try something. Anything. If it was up to me, you'd be in a cell for the next twenty years. Quarantined."
X
Maia was perched on the edge of a deserted desk, slowly kicking her heels against it. Thump, thump. The soles of her shoes made little squeaking noises, something to break the monotony of jangling phones and mechanical voices answering them. The older policeman had brought Shawn in a few minutes before, and he looked miserable. Maia knew the babysitter was concerned for her as well; he needn't be, but there was no way to tell him that. She could only watch his back, as he was seated in front of another desk- this one occupied- answering questions. Or not. He kept glancing at his hands, fidgeting with the cuffs. Maia wished they'd take them off. She knew the hostile stares or whispered conversations going on had something to do with the fact they were 4400's. Regardless of the policeman's promise, no one talked to her. The ladies had moved away, tentative smiles not quite breaking through their aversion. It was etched across their faces clearly as ink.
Maia twisted a blond pigtail; they were slightly uneven, but she'd tried to do them herself, during the dark ride over, and she wasn't sure how they looked. One was definitely larger than the other. When was she ever going to get it right?
Thump, thump. Shawn had twisted in his chair, he was trying to get her attention. Maia smiled and waved, the light in her eyes dying when the man to Shawn's right jerked the sitter around...
X
"I don't think-"
"If you want things to stay civil between us-I suggest you stop thinking and start answering questions."
Shawn's eyes were wide and dark, the smudges underneath only accenting them. He stared at his fingers. "I'm still waiting to make my phone call."
"I think you need to take a little walk." The officer motioned his suspect up, and started off down a narrow corridor. Shawn followed slowly, uncertain of their destination.
"You see these cells? They're nice up full of the typical assortment. The other side of this pretty little town."
Shawn tried to ignore the sick feeling that sprung up when he stepped into the world of bars. Doors that only opened one way. It was just like quarantine, but this time he wasn't the sole occupant. Two other men lounged against the back wall.
"We're going to let you cool off in here."
Shawn clamped down on his initial reaction to turn and run. The air was cold, colder because it was windowless and strange. He was still wearing Uncle Tommy's shirt, the white one with thin blue stripes. And his jeans, with only a faint bloodstain on the knee. He stifled a shiver, stepping into the cell only far enough to let the door close behind him.
"Keep an eye out. He's a 4400."
"Thanks for giving them warning," Shawn muttered, under his breath. His dark look wasn't lost on the officer, who smiled benignly.
"You really one of them people?" The gray haired man to Shawn's left stepped forward. His weathered face was brown from constant exposure to the elements, clothes threadbare and mismatched. A soiled red sweatshirt hung off the gaunt frame, paired with black jeans and an orange vest. The large feet were encase in toe-pinching rubber boots.
"I'm a 4400, but-"
Shawn wasn't allowed the time for a diplomatic answer. Something flashed by his head, and he ducked as a boot ricocheted off the door behind him.
"You stay away from us, you hear me? We don't need none of your kind."
"I don't want to bother you." Kicking the footwear aside. "Just leave me alone."
At least they'd taken the handcuffs off. He stared down at his wrists, absently rubbing feeling back into them. Ignoring the thousand whispers that seemed to spring from the very walls.
Freak.
X
Shawn was startled from his uneasy sleep by the sound of steps. Cautious and careful, he doubted it was one of the police, coming for rounds. No, this was a different intruder. His cheek was hot, where it had been buried against the knee of his jeans. Shawn had taken up residence in the corner, nearest the door. This ancient jail cell still had bars across the front, black and grimy.His two cell mates were sprawled on the stained mattresses along the back. Shawn doubted they'd share a bunk with him, so the returnee had drawn his legs up and rested as best he might.
Water dripped steadily in the background. It had an unearthly quality, almost as if he was imprisoned in a dungeon or infamous French prison. Shawn squinted in the semi darkness, stealing a glance over his shoulder. The shadow took shape, a thin women with something in her hands-
Camera.
The returnee jerked around, an arm shielding his face. The last thing he wanted was a front page spread. Not only would it embarrass his family, it'd discredit what little respect the 4400's had managed to garner.
The flash went off, a second too late.
"Come on, just one."
"Isn't there a rule against that?"
His voice was muffled in the corner, but he didn't care if she'd understood him or not. This was his privacy, what the heck was wrong with people?
"Hey. What are you doing?" The sleep roughened voice was too close.
"4400 brought in the newspapers!"
"Lady, I can't sleep!"
A dozen protests sounded off the corridor, but the picture taker remained unfazed. "I just want one clean shot of the returnee, that's all."
Shawn's weather beaten companion jostled him. "Give her what she wants so I can get some sleep."
"No."
"Listen, kid, you want to have this whole jail against you?"
"I think that's already a given."
"Just turn around, you don't have to smile or nothin'. It'll be in the news, good or bad."
"I shouldn't even be here."
"Ahuh. Should have thought about that before you beat on that kid."
"I was jumped, not the other way around. There were two kids-"
"Nice. There were really three or four and you beat the crap out of them all. I'm impressed, really. Now why don't you flash your pretty smile and shut up?"
Before he could retort, the inmate grabbed Shawn's shirt and half lifted him to his feet, shoving the returnee against the bars.
Shawn got an arm in front of his face, but it wasn't enough. The woman was snapping pictures, too many before he jerked free.
"Thanks."
And that was that. Camera and stranger disappeared, the disgruntled sleepers settling down.
Shawn slid to the floor, too angry to do anything but glare.
X
Tom Baldwin bit down on a seventh insult, waiting impatiently as Diana gathered up Maia. The child appeared unharmed by the incident, uncurling from a sleepy doughnut position on an overstuffed chair.
"I can't believe Shawn let-"
"I'm sure he did the best he could." Baldwin scanned the doorway, anxious to confront the desk sergeant. Trying to restrain himself.
"Tom, aren't you listening to anything I'm saying? A little girl just spent half the night in a police station, the least your nephew could have done was contact us. There was no need for Maia-"
"I doubt the cops let him make friendly phone calls, Diana, or he obviously would have told me he'd been arrested."
"Right." The dark haired agent smiled. "I'm sorry, I'm just upset-"
"I understand completely. Believe me."
X
The hall was lit by ceiling lights, every other bulb glowing orange in the faded, greenish confines. This station was more run down than the others up town. Tom couldn't help wondering why the police had brought his nephew down here. Long association with investigative work told him something wasn't right.
The officer on duty looked him over, lingering long enough to let Tom know he wasn't impressed. NTAC or not.
"Where's Shawn Farrell being kept?"
The lanky policeman pointed toward the last cell on Tom's right.
"I want to talk to him. Not in there."
"I'll see about it." Not promising much. Baldwin wandered off as the cop finished his inspection.
"Shawn."
His nephew was sitting in the corner, head resting against the chipped paint.
"Shawn!"
"Uncle Tommy?" Confusion, for an instant. Then the wide eyes opened in surprise. "You don't know how good it is to see you."
It took the returnee a moment, because his legs had fallen asleep. Shawn wrapped his fingers around the bars, breathing a sigh of relief. "They wouldn't let me call you, and-"
"I know. I know. Question is, did you say anything? What did they ask you? You didn't-"
"Relax, Uncle Tommy. I didn't tell them a thing."
"Good. Then that's good."
"Do you think you can get me out of here?"
Baldwin cast a look around. "There's something going on. They shouldn't even be holding you. Legally."
"I think I know what it's about. I-"
"Not here, Shawn." The warning came out too sharply.
"Okay. Okay." Susan's son nodded, not quite meeting Tom's gaze.
Baldwin tried again, keeping his voice normal with an effort. "Look at me. Listen. None of this is your fault, I don't blame you for any of it."
"They brought Maia down here, too. I'm so sorry."
"Shawn, she's halfway home by now. We found her sleeping, snug as a bug. It's probably all been one big adventure."
"I didn't want to put her through this."
Tom awkwardly reached through the bars, touching his nephew's shoulder. "I know. Diana understands."
"Sometimes I think it would have been better if you'd never found me."
"Found-"
"That night. I should have just left town." Shawn studied the wall. "I didn't know-how things were- if I had, I wouldn't have caused all this trouble."
"What aren't you telling me?" Tom's grip unconsciously tightened.
"The papers. They'll be all over this by morning. They've got pictures-"
Tom massaged his forehead. "You know, we'll deal with that when the time comes." He ignored the guilt in Shawn's eyes, because he couldn't deal with it right now. Between Linda, Kyle and Shawn, he'd hardly had a day that wasn't dramatic. Upsetting. Emotional.
"First things first. We have to get you home."
X
Night breezes rustled debris, sky a black canvas where stars never shone. The perpetual glow from city lights cast an orange haze far into the heavens. Beside Baldwin, Shawn took a shivering breath. Maybe it was nerves, maybe the sudden temperature change. He wrapped cold arms about his chest, studying the deserted streets. It felt so good to be free.
"Hey. Better get you in the car." Tom shouldered past, impatient to be away.
Shawn fumbled with the door, got it open. Slid into the seat, not saying anything.
"You want some music?" Breaking the uncomfortable silence. Baldwin turned up the volume, any excuse not to talk. Because Shawn was vulnerable. And he didn't want to deal with it. Because then it would be like letting someone in, after all these months and months of not caring. "You like this?"
"Lifehouse. They're good."
"Ya."
Shawn was watching the road, without really seeing.
"You want to talk about it?"
"What?" Blankly. The way Kyle played dumb. But Shawn wasn't Kyle, and Tom didn't care enough to press the subject. It wasn't worth getting into an argument over, especially when all he wanted was sleep.
"So what's your theory?" Tom relaxed, flexing his fingers against the wheel.
"Gifford. It's the only explanation."
"How so?"
"My guess is, he played dirty. Bribed the cops, maybe they owe him some favors. I don't know. The whole thing was weird."
"Ya, well I'll get to the bottom of it. You can count on that." Baldwin nodded. "That explains the whole run down, other side of town thing." Studying Shawn's profile. "Don't breathe a word of this. To anyone."
"What about the papers?"
"This isn't just about you. Whether you know it or not, the situation isn't in my hands anymore. Anything directly effecting the 4400's, large scale, well, that's up to NTAC."
A new song played over the next few minutes, then Shawn himself broke the silence. "Does this mean I'll be going back?"
"I can't make you any promises, Shawn. Jarvis is the one who makes the calls."
X
"You didn't have to do all this."
Tom eyed his nephew who was expressively staring at the plate heaped high with french toast.
"I was up early."
"You must have hardly slept at all."
"I got enough. You'll find, Shawn, that the older you get the more thinking you do lying awake at night."
"It gets worse?"
"Couldn't sleep?"
"I guess we should have just sat up." Shawn was fidgeting with a fork, idly spearing breakfast.
"You feeling alright?"
The returnee shook his head. "What?"
"Nothing." Baldwin folded his paper and sighed. Decided to toss it in the garbage before Shawn got ahold of it. Not exactly front page, but there was a definite article and hazy picture describing the 4400 as a "Silent Threat."
"Aren't you going to eat?"
"Ya."
The agent watched his nephew absently pooling syrup on the stacked bread. "Step up, don't you think?"
"Step-"
"Toast. We went French."
Shawn plastered a smile across his face. "It's really great, Uncle Tommy."
"Sure. Well, don't eat too fast."
"I won't."
Sunlight splashed across the table, coming of dawn. Tom checked his watch, trying to get a read on Shawn before he left. "You going to stick around here, right?"
"I might watch some TV."
"Good. You into The Simpsons? Kyle always loved that show."
"That's still on, huh?"
"I think so." Tom hesitated. "You could use Kyle's stereo."
"Probably get arrested for disturbing the peace." The laugh didn't quite cut it.
"Look, Shawn, I'll see that NTAC looks into this. Don't worry, it's what we're trained to do. It's nothing like a bomb threat or a pot shot in the street."
"Ya. I guess it's just piecemeal to you."
"You are fine, aren't you? Maia's fine, everyone's okay-"
"But when is it going to stop?" Shawn raised his eyes for the first time. "How do you know what someone's going to pull next? What if you weren't NTAC. When are people going to leave us alone?"
"I think you should appreciate the fact that you have got connections. Don't worry about the others, that's my job and I spend too much time on it as it is."
"We're all in this together."
Tom raised a hand in frustration as Shawn pushed away from the table, leaving his meal untouched.
X
Uncle Tommy didn't understand. He couldn't.
The returnee sank onto the couch, remembering last night. The movie he'd shared with Maia. How perfect it had been, almost like he'd found a family. Again.
The jail. Quarantine, all over again. The mindless pacing, tests and questions, the lack of privacy and fear of the unknown. People constantly trying to get you to talk about things you couldn't remember. It never occurred to them that not remembering was driving the returnees insane. As far as Shawn knew, no had recalled a single detail, either.
He wanted out. Maybe go down to the lake where he had returned to normality. To life.
What a joke. This wasn't a forgiving world, at least where freaks where concerned.
Studying his fingers.
I'm a freak.
He hit the remote control, and it flipped across the room.
He didn't even have the courage to turn on the television.
X
Susan knocked three times. Deciding that no one was going to come to the door, she unburied the spare key from her brother's usual hiding place. Under a faded frog with goggling yellow eyes. She always hated that frog. It had come with the house, and never seemed to fit into the carefully manicured lawn.
"Hello?"
Her heels made tiny clicking sounds on the hardwood floor, accompanied by the gentle swish of her clothing. Susan was dressed up; she had fallen into the pattern of being a prominent lawyer's wife. It was what Joe expected from her. And he had no idea of her destination that morning. If he had-well, he wasn't going to find out. As far as Joe was concerned, her promise to stay well clear of Shawn was still firmly intact.
"Anyone home?"
The house needed dusting. There were spiders frolicking along the ceiling, silent witnesses to the lack of female attention.
"Tom-"
The word cut short at the sight of someone, deep asleep. Shawn.
He was wearing the same exact clothes as the day he'd stepped out of the house with his cousin.
Susan felt the sting of unshed tears. His face looked the same, too. Just tired, more haggard. She'd been angry to see that face, portrayed in fuzzy detail over an article on the 4400 threat. Embarrassed.
"Shawn?"
He didn't stir, stretched out across the sofa. So much taller than Danny. More like his father as the years flew past.
"Shawn, it's mom."
It seemed nothing would wake him. Susan moved forward, almost unconsciously. She was drawn to the sight of her son, this son, the one who'd walked out of her life one day and just never came back. She still couldn't grasp the fact-it wasn't Shawn's fault. All she knew was that he had left her. Alone, her and Danny.
But he was so still. So peacefully sleeping, almost as if the time had never passed. He didn't know his step father, not like Danny did. Or even his half brother. Susan felt a small twinge of resentment. She couldn't bring Shawn back with her, to his home, because Joe wouldn't like it. And Colin was using Shawn's room now. All of her son's things had been piled in the attic or thrown away.
The floorboards creaked beneath her, and it was enough to disturb him.
"What-"
"It's me." Susan actually stepped back, slightly afraid. The way he sat up, that fierce expression. Maybe she didn't know him after all.
"Mom?" And the hard edge melted, replaced with a vulnerability she'd never seen in her easygoing son's eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"I just wanted to check in on your Uncle Tommy." Why couldn't she say it. The smile was too bright, too cheerful for him too believe.
"Are you okay?" He swung his legs to the floor, rubbing a hand across his eyes. Eyes that seemed darker; still the same, but a stranger's.
"I was doing some shopping and it was my day off, so I dropped in."
"Oh." Shawn stared at her blankly, as if trying to process what she was telling him. "You're still working?"
"Not as much, but-"
"I thought you married a lawyer."
This was the Shawn of old. He was so protective of her, too much. Susan studied a magazine that had come to rest half under the sofa. "I don't work everyday-"
"I thought things were better for you." Knowing how much she'd grown to hate her job.
"Well, I stay home two days a week. Can't do all the baking I'd like, but I still make pies every Saturday."
"I miss your apple pie." A grin started to break out.
"You'd better. There's nothing in the store that could compare."
"Nothing in the state."
"It used to be country."
"Well, I wasn't so well traveled."
Susan studied her son's face with an intensity that they both understood. There was no going back. At least, not for now.
"Danny said that he had a new brother." Studying the tear in his jeans.
"You do, too."
"I hope that he helped when I was gone."
"He did. Not at first, because I couldn't stand him." Susan sank onto a cushion. "He was in your room, fooling around with your things. I almost hated him."
"I'm glad."
"Shawn!" Then, "what's happened to you? I've never seen you quite like this before."
"Meaning?"
"Don't go getting defensive. I changed your diapers, remember?"
"I don't fit in. With Danny, or you, even Uncle Tommy. He's been really good to me, and I'm sorry that I've caused him so much trouble, but he doesn't want me here. All I do is remind him that Kyle's the one in a coma."
"It'll take time. He's trying so hard not to blame everything on you, now that he knows it isn't true." Susan touched her son's arm.
"He does?"
"Stop picking at the furniture and look at me."
"I just don't know what to think anymore."
"You will. Thing is, childhood has come and gone. It's time you started making your own decisions."
"So many options." Shawn held his forehead. "Did you see the article?"
Susan folded her hands. "I saw it. I heard it. I heard about it. But that doesn't make any difference."
"Not to you, maybe. You're my mom." Shawn smiled, almost shyly.
"You can't let what everyone else thinks bother you so much. And you can't shut yourself up in here. Do you have any friends-any of the 4400 still around?"
"I haven't been able to find out. I'm just trying to have one normal day here."
"I think you should come to dinner."
"What about Joe? He doesn't like me."
"I know. But we can't help that."
"If I come, he's going to take it out on you."
"You, too. But it's still my house."
"You have a point there." Shawn almost laughed at his mother's calm. She and Uncle Tommy were as different as night and day.
"When you come, you'll tell everyone what your plans are. Have some goals, don't let Joe bully you. I'll invite your uncle, too. It should prevent some problems."
"That's not exactly everything."
Shawn wasn't looking at her, a pained expression marring the handsome face.
"What aren't you telling me?"
"It's nothing. I just don't think that Gifford is going to let me waltz in and do nothing about it."
"You mean repurcussions, don't you? You think that Joe had something to do with your arrest."
"It's pretty obvious. The guy doesn't like me. He came here and practically told me what would happen to me if I tried contacting Danny again."
"And used me as leverage."
Shawn shrugged. "I think he does care about you."
"He does. He's a hard man, Shawn, but he loves me. And your brother. We needed to be taken care of, especially after-"
The returnee jumped up, pacing in front of the television. "You mean after I left?"
"It wasn't your fault." Susan studied her tall son, the white tee and hair sticking in disarray. How could her baby boy be a man? It was too soon. She didn't know if it was possible to remain calm, matter of fact. Tell him to be an adult and everything would work out. She wanted to take him in her arms and cry with, him, comforting and maternal. She wanted to be his mom again.
"I probably should be getting going."
There was never a moment for looking back. It wasn't what either of them needed. After a brief silence, Susan felt her eldest child's arms wrap her in a hard embrace. He knew how difficult it was for her, too.
"I love you, Shawn. Don't ever forget that."
"I won't."
"And try not to live on sugar cereal."