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.
It had taken a lot of detective work to find the place that he now made his way to. The first problem had been that it didn't exist, not officially anyway. He knew that the only way to handle the situation would be to meet her himself. He followed the directions he had been given, winding and twisting through side roads and back alleys. Finally, he came to a flight of stairs leading down to the side entrance of a dilapidated building. He reached a heavy, steel door; knocked. It took some persistence, actually a lot of persistence, before a pair of dull eyes peeked out from behind a small rectangular opening.
"What?"
"I want to come in." He answered, flashing a hundred dollars in front of the slot. The eyes laughed, so did the voice that had questioned him. He added an extra five hundred dollars and cocked his head to one side. The bouncer moved his hand in front of the slot, motioning for him to raise the price. The door opened, and he greeted a heavily built bouncer, gesturing for his money. The bouncer pointed him on, and he followed the long, narrow corridor until reaching another flight of stairs. He began to hear the faint beginnings of music, the bass seemingly shaking the walls. Low lights, lounge music, and a crowd of over-drugged, good-timers that didn't seem to care less about the comings and goings of others. He caught glimpses of people; familiar faces, famous faces. He moved to the bar.
The bartender approached him, shaker in hand. "Anything I can help you to?"
"A woman."
"Sorry, but I don't handle that. Franco's the guy you want, he's up in the VIP section." The young barman pointed the it out.
He made his way to the section. It didn't take much to find Franco; he was the wise-ass that seemed to spend all his time keeping the guests happy. As soon as Franco spotted him, it was all smiles. "Sir, it's great to meet you." Was his simple greeting. "The VIP lounge is your playground. We've got everything a man of your position could possibly want, and I do mean that. We cater to every need, every time, without fail, so ask and ye shall receive." Noticing his only response was an impatient stare: "Where the fuck are my manners; I'm Franco, the alpha and omega for you in this club. There's nothing I don't know, nothing I can't do." He said, allowing him in.
"I need to find a woman."
"Done. See anything you like?" Franco gestured to the women already decorating the plush couches, already having been, chosen, by men and women alike. "Or do you have more specific tastes?"
"Tall, about 5"11, brown eyes, brown skin, black hair."
Franco paused for a moment, "Sure, I'll see what I can do," and left.
The club seemed more like a tribute to old Roman times; the wealthy were waited on hand and foot, and allowed all the pleasure and debauchery that would make an average man envious. But he was not an average man, and the times had begun to change. He felt fingers trace across his back and turned to face a less than lucid woman. "So, is this your first time here cause I haven't seen you here before?" She'd slurred a few of her words, and was struggling to keep her eyes on him. "You should know that I don't mind doing, whatever." She shrugged, looking him up and down.
"So sorry to keep you waiting, mon chéri." Anäis brought her hand to his cheek, and kissed the other, softly. "Veronica, take the rest of the night off." The woman clenched her jaw, not moving. "Veronica, take the rest of the night off, or don't bother coming back again." She whispered to her. Veronica took one last look, and stormed off. "There must be a reason why you're here."
"Can we speak in private?" Jordan asked.
She leaned in; her lips hovered above his ear. "Follow my lead." Anäis pulled back, smiled at him seductively, took his hand and led him through the gauntlet of bodies that stood between them and the back of the club.
"Woa, beautiful people: wherever you're going, I'm beggin' you to take me with you." Another famous face, albeit a somewhat drunken one. He blocked their way to the private rooms. "Come on; I'll get us a couple of drinks, a few pills, see what happens."
"Sorry, Bryce, but this is a private party." She pushed passed him, finally reaching the closest room.
"You painted a pretty different picture of yourself to Shawn." Jordan began, looking around the room and noticing the soft furniture and couch that bordered on a bed.
She crossed her arms and pursed her lips; back against the door. "I'm no whore, Jordan, and I never painted any picture. Shawn believes what he wants."
"Apparently he believes that it's his duty to take the blame for something you did."
"What exactly do you think, you know?"
"I know a 4400 when I see one. Something in them has changed, something is different." He moved toward her, burning her eyes with his own. "It's a look; the look of someone who no longer sees the world in the same light. Someone marred, changed by circumstance and reluctant to except it. But more than that, I know the look of someone who's killed; held life and chosen to end it." He moved still closer, closing her off, confining her against the door. "The eyes speak volumes; they truly are the windows to the soul. The eyes of a killer are strong, powerful, all encompassing. The eyes of a killer show intent, determination to do whatever it takes. I see the change, and your eyes, however beautiful they may be... I know those eyes."
"I didn't mean to hurt those men." She whispered.
"I believe that... but those eyes are older than what happened last week." He strode away, "Shawn does not know what he's doing, he's even refused my help. Now understand that not only do I treat him like a son, as far as I'm concerned, he might as well be. I will not let my heir go to prison for a crime he didn't commit." He paused. "Shawn told me, you used your ability to defend yourself."
Anäis nodded. "If I tell you, will you keep my name from the police, and help Shawn even though he doesn't want you to?"
"How about you show me."
"No." Without hesitation.
Jordan was slightly angered by the response. "You're not in a position to bargain."
"But I am in a position to spare your life. I can't control this... curse. And I won't be responsible for hurting you, or worse."
"Fine, then I propose a trade: You come to the center, and let me help you gain control. Let me help you turn your curse into a blessing."
She raised a brow. "What do you get out of it?"
"If your ability is as erratic as you say it is, then it's only my duty to keep you from harming others."
"That's not an answer." Anäis said quickly. "Alright, what about Shawn?"
"Do you really think that I wouldn't help him?" He stalked back to the door, reaching around her to open it. "The Center, tomorrow morning at ten."
Anäis leant back and slammed the door. "I see in your eyes, the same thing that you see in mine." That said, she moved to one side and let him pass.
888
"Things aren't moving fast enough, and it's making me extremely anxious." Gina said, crossing the large den and pouring herself a glass of water.
"We have to wait." Walter countered, turning back from the fire place and adjusting the ring on his finger. They had retired to the den of their newly bought base of operations. There were rooms enough for Malik, Jonathan, and Amelia and Grace, their newest additions. The entire house had been furnished to a warm and cozy setting, masking the intent of the occupants. Both of them had assumed a kind of joint command; their histories made it inevitable. "Incase you haven't noticed, we don't have much choice in the matter."
She shook her head. Gina wasn't used to such a chain of command; having her life dictated according to the remote orders of a man that she had known for less than a few months. She owed Him much, but her gratitude was wearing thin, and she had yet to find any cause for loyalty. "He shouldn't be making the decisions, we should. What does He know about being a 4400? What is His wealth of knowledge, compared to ours?" She moved to him. "What does He know about strategy and politics?"
"He knows about power!" He shouted, silencing her. "And that, is what we ultimately want. He can offer us a share of that, far more than any of the other 4400s could dream of." Walter ran a hand through his graying hair. Gina's youth clouded her rationality. Neither of them had any hopes for a substantial future until He had come along. Walter remembered it clearly: He'd just run out of money to pay for his room at the cheap motel on the city outskirts; suffice it to say that people weren't in the business of hiring a 4400 with his credentials. A man had approached him as he left his room, and given him an envelope. In it, were ten, hundred dollar bills, and a note: I CAN OFFER YOU THIS, AND MORE. Walter called the number that was typed at the end of the note, and the rest was history.
Gina's story was much the same, as was Jonathan and Malik's, two brothers whose abilities worked in tandem. "Why won't he speak to us face to face? Can we not be trusted?" Walter shrugged, though his eyes betrayed, something. "What is it?" She asked. "Tell me."
"We'll be receiving another addition soon." Gina raised a brow. "All of us have been positioned."
"Positioned? For what?"
"You should be asking: for who?" He fiddled with his ring again. "We're custodians, until he tells us otherwise."
Her eyes widened. "I am nobody's pawn!" She was overcome with anger, spun and stormed out of the den.
"You're all too wrong, Gina. All 4400 of us, are nothing but pawns."
888
"I'll be honest here; getting a call from Jordan Collier was just about the last thing I was expecting." Diana told Tom; both of them having just left the car.
"It was Shawn that called, and I wonder whether Jordan even knows we're coming."
"I don't see a troop of heavily armed security guards yet." They took the all too familiar path into the 4400 center and announced themselves. The pleasantries were so sugar coated it made the agents sick. It might've been less obvious to tag each of them with a flashing neon badge spelling 'unwelcome'. They were left in the center's primary conference room and waited for some time before being met by Shawn.
"Hey Uncle Tom, how're you doing?" He shook hands with him and they exchanged an honest embrace. "Hi." He shook hands with Diana.
"So, you wanted to see us?" Diana asked, smiling.
"Yeah, we're just waiting for Jordan." There was an awkward silence for moment. "So, how's Kyle doing?" Asked Shawn.
Tom nodded. "He's doing alright. Everyone's fine." Silence. "And how're you doing?"
"I'm good."
Jordan strode in just as Shawn answered. "Tom, Diana." He greeted them both with a firm handshake. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time but unfortunately this meeting is not necessary."
"But Shawn told us..."
"I'm very much aware of what Shawn told you, Agent Baldwin, and now I'm telling you. I have a meeting in a few minutes, Anna will escort you out." As if on cue, his newly appointed PA entered and smiled. "Again, my apologies." He strode out of the conference room, followed by an apologetic Shawn. "Not now, Shawn." Jordan said, sensing the young man behind him.
"What the hell was that? You just made me look like an idiot." He shouted.
"Thank you for calling them, but we no longer need their assistance. I haven't exhausted all of our options yet."
"Well if you've got a plan, you mind filling me in?" The question was asked with a noticeable amount of venom.
"Not yet."
Shawn pulled his arm and spun him around. "Why the hell not, we're partners; equals."
"No, we're not!" Jordan pulled his arm free. "You are my protégé, my son, and without a doubt, an exceptional prodigy. One day, you'll pass anything I could ever hope to achieve; a superior, not an equal, but today is not that day." He held Shawn's face between his hands, fixing his eyes on him. "You're not done learning You still need to follow, and in time, learn to lead."
"I'm not a child."
"No, you're not, which is why you are my right hand. But don't forget, that I still lead." He moved away. "I'll tell you when the time is right." And left.
888
Shawn paced the stage of the center's auditorium. The sound of shoes hitting the wooden boards would normally ring clear in the empty space but, his socks did not have the same effect. He came here to think, usually after the center had closed and most of the staff had gone home. It bothered him that he had been coming here more often; dwelling on the same thoughts and coming to no head with any of them. He rolled his neck, shoved his hands into his pockets. He felt like shedding it all, the person, the suite; it was clear that his place was as a second. But for how long? Jordan thrived on his ability to control; he wouldn't willfully hand the reigns to him without a share of that control, and knowing that, he would be second until the day Jordan died. Was this frustration, confusion, or greed? Shawn wondered.
"You look good up there."
Shawn looked up; Anäis was standing in the aisle of seats leading straight down the middle of the hall. He found himself mesmerized by her image. "Thank you." He grinned. Why did he find himself so captivated? "You don't look too bad yourself."
She walked to the stage as he moved and sat at its edge. "Strange, I know that look instantly when I see it on another, but it took me too long to recognise it on myself." Anäis said, folding her arms on the stage and resting her chin on them. "Self-doubt, searching for... something."
"It's not that heavy."
"Isn't it?" She looked up at him; Those eyes, he thought.
He had to look away, and he stared straight ahead. "I can handle it."
"I haven't known you for very long Shawn, but what I do know, is that you are a good person. It radiates from every part of you. There's an innocence that you posses, and that is where you and Jordan differ." He gave her a curious look. "That is who your mind struggles with, besides you, isn't it?" It was more of a statement than a question. "Your doubt is what holds you back. Some doubt is understandable, it should always be won out by your character; and yours is a strong character. You need to stop relying on Jordan's and start listening to your own." She sighed. "I heard you and Jordan arguing earlier. I was near his office, was supposed to be in it."
"You came to see Jordan today?" He asked.
"I never did. I left." She propped herself up and rested her cheek against her open palm.
"Why?"
"An epiphany. Call it, an affirmation of self."
He looked down at her; creamy brown skin against the simple white dress she wore. "You're talking in riddles... and it sounds like you were a shrink in your former life." Shawn laughed.
She didn't seem to take to his humour. Anäis moved away. "You don't know anything about me before the day we met."
"Whoa, what's with the defenses?" He jumped down.
"Everything has been taken care of. It was best that I sort out my own problems, I should've realised that from the start." She said, her voice strong, final. Before he could ask she silenced him with a finger to his lips. "I've been struggling with who I am, struggling like you, since the abduction. It took a friend to make me understand that I wasn't the person I pretended to be. There are forces at work here, forces that counter and balance. You're one side of that balance, I, am the other."
"Anäis, you're scaring me. Stop being so goddamn cryptic and just tell me what you're on about." He searched her face, studied the emotions there.
"Why? What difference would it make to you?"
"It would... make a difference." He himself wasn't sure why. "I don't understand, what's wrong? What's changed?"
She laughed, a laugh that grated against her beauty, a sinister laugh. It was the first time he'd felt uneasy around her. "No, you don't understand. Nothing has changed, and now everything's right." Anäis held his eyes with hers. Again, he felt helpless. She moved to leave, but it was her final words that sent a chill down his spine. "I pretended to be a good person... but I never was."
888
The clock on the wall of the office ticked away. Tom and Diana stared at the papers in front of them. Tom tapped his pen on the desk, Diana her finger; both immersed in thought.
"Are you getting the feeling that we're muddling away at something we just can't piece together?" He referred to the unsolved robbery, and the mysterious report of three boys who'd been electrocuted.
"There might be a connection, we just can't see it."
"Something else is going on here."
"What do you mean?" Diana asked.
"I can't quite describe it." Tom replied.
"You feel like something big is coming, but you can't explain why you do. No evidence points toward it, and if anybody asked, you'd call it a hunch."
"Seems you can describe it pretty well." He dropped his pen, and rubbed his eyes.
"So what do we do?"
"Right now? What can we do?"
888
Mercantile Bank was the victim of a most unusual robbery. Sources within the bank say that the vault door had melted open. There is speculation that it could be the work of members of the 4400.
8
... where the last of the MacLaine brothers has just passed away. Ryan MacLaine outlived his two brothers by one month and had been fighting for a month and a half after a vicious attack left him and his two brothers severely injured. Before his passing, he managed to inform the police about the specifics of the attack stating that he and his brothers were surprised by a seemingly 'normal' woman. The air became hot, and flashes of light appeared; those were his last memories before waking up in Mercy hospital. And I quote: "She was one of them 4400". Ryan, Benjamin and Charles MacLaine are survived by their parents: Emily and Jonathan MacLaine.
8
... rioting has begun at the gates of the 4400 compound founded by billionaire business man Jordan Collier. A recent surge in dormant 4400 activity has caused a public outcry. As the figure head of the 4400, many believe that Mr. Collier holds answers...
8
The world came to a standstill today as a group, dubbed 'the Rogues', injected the internet as well as hijacked major television broadcast networks, with a message stating the group's intent, as well as a call to arms for every member of the 4400. The spokeswoman for the group informed the world of their plan to bring the 4400 to power, stating that they had been singled out and chosen for a purpose...
8
... tensions rise as the group, now being called 'The Elite', reveal the growth of their membership base. So far, it is believed that every member posses active abilities, which are perfected through rigorous training by the group's director...
8
... while the Elite remain mostly secretive about their operations, one thing is certain: they are not to be ignored. Jordan Collier has consistently refused to comment on what is believed to be a steadily growing opposition toward his own 4400 center...
End
A/n: Not sure whether this fic is receiving any attention, so I'm going to end it here. If there are any people who would in fact enjoy the continuation of the story, I'll begin the next installment. This is a vague wrapping up of the events of the story, and if the next installment goes ahead, more of the show's set characters will be utilized, each of the Elite and their relationships, and the intentions of the group will be explored more deeply. My hope is to create an opposition for Jordan and his plans. Again, please let me know if it's worth carrying on (as I mentioned, I'm new to it all so I don't know if the story works), if not, this ending more or less leaves it to the reader, and the news reports give you an idea of where things are headed.
P.S: Thanks for the crit PurpleYin, much appreciated!