Disclaimer: If you recognize the characters, they aren't mine. Just playing in the sandbox so graciously provided by JMS and the Wachowskis.
Note: A bit short, but work has been insane and I'm just going to post what I've got and hope I can get a bit of spare time to work on the next chapter soon. Thank you to everyone who has read/favorited/followed/reviewed!
Reminder: I'm also on Twitter as "avidbeader" if you're reading here as a guest and would still like a way to get story updates.
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"I'm tired of waiting on Joaquín. Let's go to the press today."
Hernando looked up from his book. He closed it, keeping one finger to hold his place, and pushed his glasses up with his free hand. "Are you sure?"
Lito nodded as he continued to pace around. "My agent suggested going to Cristina first. He said she will be more sympathetic to the situation and if she gets the exclusive she'll allow us input into how the story is presented."
Hernando leaned back. "If you feel it's for the best, I will support you."
"You're sure this will not cause you trouble?"
Hernando shrugged. "They've known for ages at the university that I'm gay. The trouble will come from me, a librarian, being involved with someone as frivolous as an actor, or from being swamped with requests for your autograph."
Lito smiled at that. "There's always Daniela's suggestion of a restaurant."
Hernando laid the book to the side and got up, coming forward and steering Lito until he was pinned to the kitchen island. He raised his hands to Lito's face and leaned in, kissing him soundly.
"Let's hold off on that until we know your next film will make as much money as the last one."
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Wolfgang walked down the hall of the hospital. The doctor stopped him. "Mr. Conan is recovering very nicely. He's breathing on his own, fully responsive. He's even flirting with some of the nurses when he isn't throwing massive profanity in your direction for disappearing on him."
Wolfgang smiled at that and handed the doctor a thick envelope. "Well, I'm back. I've got a place where he can rest and recover. Can he be moved safely? Say, the day after tomorrow?"
The doctor hefted the envelope, which was most assuredly heavy enough to buy his cooperation. "Yes, I think so if you take it slowly and carefully. By this point infection is unlikely. The key is keeping him quiet and letting his body finish recovering. He's in room twenty-six."
Wolfgang nodded and continued down the hall until he found the right room. He paused in the doorway and grinned. Felix was propped up in bed, impatiently flipping through the channels on a television.
"Boring. Boring. Really boring. Complete shit. Why is there nothing good to watch?" Felix dropped the remote and sank back into the pillows. He saw the person standing at his door and looked over and jerked upright.
"Where the fuck have you been?"
Wolfgang laughed.
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Whispers waited until well past midnight before concentrating his awareness into a full assault. In his own cell, he was unlikely to be bothered by the late shift guards if Will managed to cross to him and he appeared to talk to himself. He would catch Will in the early morning for Icelandic and London time, perhaps on the edge of his dreams when he would be less in control of himself.
He situated himself on the hard bed, closing his eyes and giving a hard mental push.
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Will looked up from a simple plate of eggs, ham, and toast. "I was wondering when you'd show up again."
Whispers looked around the room, showing his frustration to hide his observations. Judging from the sunlight in the windows, they were at least one hour further east than he had thought, possibly as many as three. He noticed the sleek tablet and a pile of assorted tech on the chest of drawers and frowned. That looked like the handiwork of Ms. Marks, but how would she have gotten it delivered from San Francisco so quickly? Perhaps she arranged for Ms. Gunnarsdottir to pick it up along the way from Iceland to wherever this was.
He let his anger mount that Metzger had failed to complete the procedure on her when he had the chance. Her skills might make the difference in keeping her cluster out of his reach, and she had escaped San Francisco to the other side of the globe.
Will put his plate aside, palming the knife from his meal, and stood.
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Whispers opened his eyes to see Will towering over him and sat up sharply. "What did you expect to see, Will? I'm still here."
Will nodded. Without speaking, the young man leaned in and down, expertly pinning him against the wall with one forearm and bringing up the other hand. Whispers felt the thin cold edge of something under his jawline. Panic bubbled up, especially seeing the cold and analytical expression in his eyes.
"You can't kill me."
The pressure increased and he felt the thing, the knife, break the skin. It took every bit of control he had not to stutter, not to let his fear get the better of him.
"If you kill me, it's going to look like I died in custody. Your department, your partner, they'll all be in huge trouble."
Will stepped back, putting his weapon in a pocket so quickly that Whispers couldn't see exactly what it had been. "It would almost be worth it. You deserve to die for all the things you've done to a whole lot of innocent people. And you wouldn't be able to keep chasing us. But that wouldn't give Sarah's parents the closure they need. They're good people, they ought to know exactly what happened to their daughter."
At that, Will turned, and left. Whipsers frowned as he felt the young man disrupt the connection between them, leaving him alone in the jail cell.
Whispers' worry shot higher. Angelica had been the only sensate who had been able to jar his grip loose, until now.
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Will sat down on the bed, carefully feeling in his mind the sudden wall he had been able to place between himself and Whispers. It had been so tempting to use the knife, to free himself from Whisper's invasion and remove the danger to the other seven. But just as quickly his common sense had taken over, reminding him of his duty to see justice done, of the chaos such an act would create, and he had felt the protection in his mind rise and push Whispers out. He didn't think he would be able to keep it up forever, but for a few minutes he could be completely isolated from outside cluster connections.
He thought for a few minutes, resolutely refusing to use the world clock on the iPad. He calculated that Kala was three or four hours ahead of him, then looked for her presence. He arrived to find her at a lab station, carefully measuring one liquid into another. He waited until she was done, admiring the professional appearance she had in her lab coat and safety goggles.
"Hi there. Got some news for you."
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Kala didn't react immediately, but set her vials aside and removed her goggles. "I'll be right back. I need some water." Her colleague nodded and she set off to an exit.
Will followed as she went down the hall to an alcove with a water cooler and filled a cup. "No need to talk, just listen. I got a chance when Whispers decided to drop in for a visit. I had a dinner knife with me and pushed through to him. I was able to nick his skin with it. So it looks like the interaction you wanted between different clusters is possible."
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Kala nodded and sipped, pacing around his room. "That is promising. But it was dangerous for you. I said to try with the other one."
"Jonas?"
"Yes, Jonas."
Will shrugged. "We got the information, and Whispers is probably afraid and confused enough not to connect the dots."
"Why? What happened?"
Will looked down, feeling rather ashamed after the fact, and Kala's attention sharpened.
"I almost lost my temper. I had him pinned to the wall and put the knife to his neck. I could have killed him, ended the threat right then. But I held off."
Kala reached out and laid one hand on his cheek. "That is good. Killing him would probably bring all the resources of BPO down upon us. And I know you're not a killer, Will. We've all been inside one another's heads now. You want justice, proper justice."
Will nodded, leaning into her touch. "Thanks."
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Amanita emerged from the bathroom in her robe, squeezing her wet braided extensions with an old T-shirt. She glanced over at Nomi, who was jumping between watching Capheus' flight status and the mounting press coverage in Chicago on the break in the Sarah Patrell case. She took the chair next to Nomi and let her lover take the shirt and continue drying the braids. It was a ritual every two weeks that they both enjoyed. Amanita leaned back and relaxed into her ministrations.
Suddenly she broke the silence. "I've thought about it. I need to take my extensions out, maybe cut my hair shorter. That'll make me more like my driver's license photo that Bug has and be easier to take care of."
Nomi fell silent, her hands frozen in place around the braids briefly before falling away. Amanita turned around and was surprised to see Nomi's face white as chalk. "You don't like the idea."
"It's…your hair…it's glorious, Neets. It's part of what makes you so beautiful!"
Amanita looked down for a few seconds, and then looked her full in the face. "Nomi, what if I got cancer and had to go through chemo? All the hair falls out. Poof! Would you think I was any less beautiful then? Would you decide I was too ugly to love?"
"What? NO!" Nomi felt as if she had been slapped.
"Well, then, right now there's a cancer in our lives named BPO. And while we're fighting to cure ourselves of it, we might lose a few things temporarily. Our home. Our jobs. Our freedom to just live. But we're only going to get those back by fighting for them. And if that means I take these extensions out for a while so I can blend in, then I'll do it."
Nomi plunged forward and threw her arms around Amanita. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry you got pulled into this…" She burst into tears.
Amanita returned the embrace and held her tightly. "I would go through hell for you. And I know you'd do the same for me. We will get through this."
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Author's Note: Thank you for reading!