You never can be too sure these days
Disclaimer: The 4400 belong to USA network...
A/n: Since I've only seen the first parts of the second series, that's where this could be set.
Ryan, Ben and Charlie MacLaine: The infamous MacLaine brothers as they were known. The three strolled into World of Coffees; a new and trendy café complete with plush red couches, steel tables and chairs, and a nice show of icono-classic pop art. They took their seats at the bar and ordered a coffee each. The vivid colours of the furniture and art were probably the drawing card of the café. Shafts of light streamed through the windows, hitting the wooden floor. The sound of a coffee grinder; the combined chatter of the customers, and the strong scent of varying flavours of coffee were not at all unpleasant. However, the brothers' company was.
The bell above the door gave a melancholic 'ping'. "Hot damn! Now there is a fine piece o' ass if ever I saw one." Ben exclaimed, tapping both brothers at either side of him as a woman walked to the bar counter to order. "You're looking pretty good there, sweetheart." She glanced at them, baring no expression in particular. They continued to eyeball her as she ordered. "No way you're that cold, baby. Come on over here, meet my brothers an' me." All three of them voiced their disappointment as made her way to the back section and promptly picked up one of the books on the rack.
Another 'ping'. Shawn Farrell seemed tired, stressed. "Can I just get a coffee." The waitress nodded and prepared his order. He brought out his money, absentmindedly looking around after he'd done so; his eyes resting on a woman who seemed immersed in the book which she held. She flipped through a few of the pages before setting the book down and moving to the counter, apparently to fetch the order that had just been made ready. "Excuse me." He called, following her out of the World of Coffees. "I couldn't help but notice the book you were reading inside..."
"I'd hardly call it reading," a slight accent. She smiled.
He agreed, and did the same. "I'm not usually in the habit of doing this, but are you?" He left the question open. "A 4400? It's just that you seemed so interested in it..."
"There were three men inside who were bothering me, I was trying to ignore them. And no, I'm not." She sipped her latte, steam rising from her lips once she did. "It's cold and I have to get going."
"Yeah, sure. Sorry about that."
"Not a problem." They said their goodbyes and he watched for a moment as she skipped across the street. He could've kicked himself for being so forward; having 4400 status was a dangerous thing to volunteer and even more so to a stranger who seemed overly curious. He shook his head as he walked to the car, and drove off, occupied in thought.
The whole scene had been observed by the brothers inside. "You boys recognise him?" Ryan asked, turning away from the window and looking to his two brothers; they nodded. "If I'm not mistaken, he's one of the 4400."
"And you sure as hell aren't." Charlie added. "What do you suppose we do about him?"
"We could do nothing, but then the rest of his kind might think that it's alright for them to come into our space; do as they like." Ben suggested.
"Doesn't sound too good, now does it?" Ryan asked. "We best do something about that."
888
Shawn stretched out on his double bed, still tired after a long nights sleep; although the night had run well into the day as he'd slept. His body was tired; he'd driven off another of Jordan Collier's 'Isabelle induced' migraines. The healing ability took its toll on him, especially an ailment that carried the strength of Jordan's migraines. He could only guess that he'd been allowed to sleep in, and the lack of a wake-up call seemed indicative of a 'thank you' from Jordan's side. He heard the rain beat against his window, thankful that he would spend the day warm and indoors. Shawn rolled out of bed and took a moment to rub his eyes, stretch out again, and plan for the rest of the day. His firm decision not to open his blinds seemed justified, since the day wasn't all that wonderful in the first place. As he moved to the bathroom, he remembered that no clients had been scheduled for the day, which suited him just fine. He had two piles of paperwork on his desk that needed tending to; today was a good day for just that. The toilet flushed, and he moved to the bathroom mirror, preparing his toothbrush as he inspected his reflection. His thoughts drifted from the extremely meaningless, to bordering on somewhat important, which was not uncommon when he just woke up. There was little variation to his morning routine.
Knock. Knock.
"I'll be out soon, I just need to get dressed.!" He called.
"Open up, this is the police!" The voice behind the door ordered.
Shawn was startled. The entity of the police had never penetrated into the compound. "Yeah, alright." He opened the door, faced with five uniformed officers. "Is there something I can help you with, officer?" He asked, referring to the man he assumed shouted from behind the door.
"Yeah, you can come down to the station with us and answer a few questions." The officer was less than friendly, and with a name like Hindeman, displayed on his badge, Shawn could guess why.
"I don't understand. What's the problem?" asked Shawn.
"The problem is that I've got three men lying in the hospital; two of whom are in a coma, the other got his jaw broke." The officer began. "Now I've got a couple witnesses from the World of Coffees heard those three boys plan to come after you. That's the last anyone heard or saw of them until someone dialed in a 911 call yesterday evening." He looked down at Shawn's boxers. "Put some damn clothes on and let's go."
888
"Listen kid, I got three guys in the hospital and nine witnesses who've helped me piece together that you probably put them there!" Detective Ray Harris; loud, heavy set, and power hungry. "You'd better have a good explanation for your whereabouts yesterday afternoon, or we'll easily start building a case with you as our primary suspect. Now, what did you do after you left that coffee spot?" The detective asked.
"I took a long drive home." answered Shawn.
Harris looked him up and down. "That just isn't good enough. It takes fifteen minutes to get from the coffee shop to the 4400 compound; so tell me how long this 'long drive home' was."
He shrugged. "I honestly don't know, I wasn't paying attention to the time."
"You'd better start paying attention now. You'll be charged with voluntary manslaughter, at the very least. And if any one of the brothers die, it's murder." The detective had leant in close, close enough for Shawn to feel his breath on him. "Now stop assing around, and tell me what really happened."
The interrogation room door opened. The woman who entered was sharp, and bullshit ready; that you could tell just by looking at her. Hair pinned neatly back, suit crisp and clean, and make-up, baring the red lipstick she wore, kept to a minimum. "Detective Harris, my name is Rebecca Sandborne, Mr. Farrell's attorney. Unless my client is being charged, you're going to escort us out of this precinct now, and smile pretty while you do."
888
"Thank you, Mrs. Sandborne." Shawn shook hands with the attorney once he found Jordan's limo parked at the curb.
She nodded. "Don't thank me yet. Something tells me that they're on a witch hunt, and a member of the 4400 is about as close as their going to get to one in this day and age. The department will liaise with me from now on, so don't worry about that... unless their stupid enough to sidestep me in which case, contact me immediately." Rebecca handed him her business card. "We'll be in touch." With that, she left, and he got into the limo.
"This is nothing; we'll be done with it soon." Collier began as Shawn settled in, door closing behind him.
"Jordan, I didn't do what they think I did." He said.
Jordan waved away the statement. "I never believed for a moment that you did. All we have to do is make the police realise that; with such an obvious hatred for the 4400, we might have our work cut out for us." He reached to his inside jacket-pocket. "Mrs. Sandborne has assured me that she will contact us with the details of the case as soon as she has them, but until then, we have our own investigating to do. And we'll start here," Jordan held up his slim iPod. "This is a recording of the 911 call made."
"How did you..."
"I have my connections." Jordan played the recording:
- Caller: Hello, hello! There are three men, hurt, in an alley way.
- Dispatcher: Please slow down ma'am. I'm having difficulty understanding you.
- Caller: Three men, injured in an alley. They are just off the corner of Washington and Mildred.
- Dispatcher: Ma'am, it's important that you don't move them until the paramedics get there. Ma'am? Ma'am can I have your name?
- Caller: They don't have much time. They don't have much time. Dépechez vous.
The recording came to an end. "To tell you the truth, I think that we should start with her. I may not have an active ability, but I do have the gift of knowing people, and I know that that's not the sound of a passerby. Her voice, it's all over the place, like she's in shock, scared, afraid for her life maybe more than theirs." He paused, thinking. "I was told that the call was made from a payphone a block away. The fear in her voice, it wouldn't be there unless she witnessed the attack, or was involved in it herself. Either way, she's who we're looking for." Jordan looked at Shawn. "Shawn, what is it?"
He looked up at Collier. "I think I know that voice."
888
Gina Rourke - disappeared: 30 May 1997
Malik James - disappeared: 5 September 1992
Jonathan James - disappeared: 12 September 1992
Walter Edwards - disappeared: 26 March 1985
"I got a lead from an old friend; volunteers in the soup kitchen over at Green Pastures Shelter." Gina began, sinking into one of the seats in the lounge. "She reckons there are two people there who might be 4400s." The lights had been flickering on and off on occasion, throughout the evening, irritating all four of them to high hell.
"And how does she reckon that?" Walter asked, placing pins on the map which utilized an already covered display board.
"They don't fit, and a lot of the homeless guys are staying away from them." She explained. "If it turns out that they are 4400, getting them to join us will be that much easier. They've got nowhere to go, nobody that wants them; we're offering them everything that they don't have."
"Yeah they got a place t' go." Malik had been more or less quite for the past few hours, thinking about things and making sense of the whole plan. "That billionaire's offerin' every 4400 a roof over their heads and a job. Shit, that ain't gonna be easy t' compete with."
Gina glared at him. "We're offering them so much more, and all it takes is the ability to make them see what we see, make them think like we think." After a while, she grinned. "It's about time we start showing the human race just what we're capable."
888
Shawn greeted the faces he met on his way to Collier's office. His smile betrayed the load of thoughts weighing heavily on his mind. He hadn't been able to concentrate since he had come back; the stares he received from most, and the episodic power cuts, might have added to the feeling of unease. As he'd observed, the local police had never managed to enter the compound legitimately. Though he wasn't the only one that had realised this. 4400 or not, people are of a curios nature, and as human as it was, it did in fact piss him off. He greeted his last smiling face and turned into the corridor holding Collier's office.
"I think I should heal them." Shawn said, closing the door.
Jordan looked up from the contract he had been reading. "No."
"If we can't find this mystery woman, and they die, I've got a feeling the police are going to have a file thick with planted evidence and bullshit eyewitness reports." He was getting nervous. "They hate us, Jordan. They'd be happier getting me convicted of a crime I didn't commit, than actually finding the person who did."
"Shawn, don't you think I know that?" Jordan stood and made his way around the desk. "If you heal them, they'll take it as you admitting some kind of guilt. We've got to play things their way. Please, you have to be patient, and wait for whatever news we get, as it comes. I've got feelers everywhere, and a team of private investigators who are the best at what they do. If they can't find her, she doesn't exist."
He sighed. "Yeah... yeah I'll be patient." Shawn finally said.
The phone rang. Jordan answered, putting it on speakerphone. "Jordan Collier."
"Mr. Collier, this is Dean O' Bryant from ST Investigators."
"Hello, Dean. What do you have for me?"
"We got you your prize, sir. We've found her."
Continued...
A/n: My first 4400 fic. I'm normally an X-writer but I had a spur of the moment idea so I thought why not do something about it. The fic will only be a few chapters long, but there will be a host of new characters. This first chapter was Shawn centric, but the 4400 character-verse will expand in the next. Feedback isn't a must, but would be appreciated.
The bard