NOTES: "That'd be Marco earning his paycheck." Ah! Sweet flattery! If only Marco could have heard her say such honest, heartfelt words of praise! It was fairly obvious that the signal affected Marco and the Theory Room Guys differently than the normally uptight Tom and other gun-toting male agents of NTAC, even differently from the female agents. "What?" you say, "It only affected men." I ask you--does Nina normally enforce order among her agents by pulling a gun? Oh, and did anyone else notice that Marco seems to be #1 on Diana's speed dial? Anyway, Lockdown was all about control. Despite the wrinkly clothes, Marco has shown signs of being nearly as much of a control freak as Diana. It's bad enough when external influences take control away from you. But what about internal influences? This one got away from me, so it's a bit longer than the rest. Thank you for the beta, PurpleYin!
SPOILERS: through Lockdown
DISCLAIMER: The 4400 and all things associated with it belong to other people.
TWELVE STEPS
STEP 10: DESIRE
Marco was angry...angry, agitated, annoyed, aggravated. He recognized that all those feelings were his, but, at the same time, they felt alien, unnatural, exaggerated. Like a swollen ankle, they were a part of him yet abnormally proportioned, as though every negative emotion, however slight, had been magnified to the point of ridiculousness. He was fairly certain of the how that had caused his current foul attitude. At the moment, he didn't particularly care about the why, though he suspected it had some connection to that email about Collier's birthday and the follow-up post that suggested dire circumstances. What mattered most was undoing the process; it didn't take a genius to figure out what might happen if a building full of armed men suddenly lost control of themselves. Sensing something nefarious was afoot as soon as "the signal" had begun, he'd managed to record most of the strange sequence of sounds. Now all he had to do was figure out how to reverse its effects.
It had started out as a buzz, not the mosquito kind but more of the circular saw variety. Slowly, it had changed and grew into a singularly unpleasant, discordant whine that inspired a headache and caused a vibration that made you uncomfortably familiar with your Eustachian tubes. Eventually, those sensations had faded as the bad vibes took over. He could all but feel the adrenaline and testosterone flooding his veins. Despite the chemical bombardment his system was having to endure, somehow, he'd been able to remain in control of his faculties. Based on what he was picking up on the intercom and other less obvious surveillance methods, the rest of NTAC seemed to be having mixed results. The sooner he could fix this, the better for everyone.
Fortunately, there were only two others in the Theory Room with him, and despite P.J.'s larger size, Marco was confident he could take them both on, if the need should arise. His surly colleagues had agreed with him that they should lock themselves in; unlike NTAC's field agents and the quintet of NSA heavy-hitters they'd just acquired, the members of his department didn't carry weapons. Their best chance at getting through this unmolested was to hole themselves up. With luck and the advantage of being in a secluded, rarely visited part of the building, they would be able to work on finding a solution without any outside interference. Of course, external interference wasn't the only potential source of trouble. Already, P.J. had broken Brady's nose as they'd argued about whether the signal was constant or a single pulse that would wear off. He thought it was neither, or perhaps both--that the signal was a single burst seemed self-evident based on the results of his recording, but the impulses it inspired were definitely not wearing off.
While trying to focus on the graphic representation of the signal as Brady and P.J. continued their inane argument, something in Marco snapped. Hefting P.J.'s bust of Einstein, he pitched it at the blank wall they used for their projection monitor. Although a part of him cringed at the attention the noise might draw from anyone outside the room, the sound of the breaking ceramic was deeply gratifying. He'd never really liked that bust, anyway.
Having gotten the undivided attention of his coworkers, he snarled, "Both of you guys, shut up!" Their shocked expressions and his own internal malaise at his behavior caused him to calm his voice a bit. "I'm trying to get work done." Just as one distraction was silenced, another plagued him--his phone rang.
It was Diana.
Seeing her name on his cell phone's display filled him with a violent mix of emotions--fear for her safety, indignation at having her lean on him and never getting anything from her in return, and vexation at having the one person he couldn't ignore call him just then. Would he ever get to concentrate so he could fix the damned problem? Drawing a deep breath, he tried to still the maelstrom within him.
"Not a good time, Diana."
If she was upset by the tone he used with her, he didn't notice it in her voice. "Marco, what's going on in there?"
Although he knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself, some part of him was relieved to learn she was outside. "Depends on who you ask. Somebody's definitely set off a whammy in here." Much to his annoyance, P.J. had already recovered from his shock and was heading toward Brady again. Why couldn't they show more restraint, like him? "Something's pumping up our fight or flight instincts." He snapped in irritation at his colleagues, but it wasn't a forceful enough gesture to divert them from their single-minded pursuit of argument. "Heavy emphasis on the fight part."
"Well, Marco, I need to get inside, and I need your help."
Was she deaf? Was she delusional? How could she sound so matter-of-fact? He needed to explain it to her more clearly. Isn't that why she talked to him--to get sound advice?
"Every male in this building has got a gallon of adrenaline coursing through his veins right now, a-and most of them are armed. If you're on the outside, stay there."
"Listen to me, Marco, Maia is inside, and I need to get to her." That certainly explained her insane course of action. "Do you have access to the building's schematics?" With the building under lockdown and surrounded by guards, she would need an unconventional way in.
He latched briefly onto her calm and followed along with it. "Yeah, I can pull them up." He was already halfway through the request before he was done saying so.
"Do it." She said it like a command, an imperative, and that rubbed him the wrong way. Where did she get off telling him what to do?
Some part of him appreciated she was worried about Maia, and that was affecting her tone...but the rest of him was just resentful. "And what do I get in return?" After all, she was, essentially, asking him to break the law for her--again.
There was a pause. "Well...I-we can talk about that later." She said it with sonorous promise, which filled him with satisfaction.
"Good. Good. I'm gonna hold you to that." But the faster he dealt with this, the sooner he could return to solving the overlying problem. And the sooner they solved the problem, the sooner he could negotiate reciprocation from Diana. All he needed was one night to convince her they were meant to be.
Using the guys to help analyze the schematics would speed things along and maybe get them to do something more useful than argue. "Hang on." He pulled the phone away from his face. "Guys! Settle it later!" Yelling definitely got their attention. Maybe he wouldn't need to throw anything else. "We gotta get Skouris into the building."
With a less theoretical task in front of them, he managed to get the his people to focus...somewhat. Marco didn't have the authority to override the lockdown protocols, nor the time to hack into the program, so that limited their options. To make matters more difficult, the building's surveillance cameras offered few long-distance views, so Diana had to play scout for them as they worked their way through half a dozen possible entry points before finding one unguarded. It took nearly an hour. By the end of it, she was panting from the effort of sprinting from cover to cover. The sound of it in his ear was driving him to distraction.
He wanted her. He wanted to know the taste of her mouth and the scent of her desire, to feel her skin against his fingers and her body pressed beneath him, to be surrounded by her, to hear her gasp in pleasure and release. He wanted to possess her, and, just then, he was willing to force the issue.
And that would ruin everything.
Aside from probably putting his life in jeopardy--she was armed and a fine shot, after all--to act on the carnal impulses that pulled at him like a seductive tide would wipe out all the trust and faith and confidence he had worked so long to earn from her. He wanted her, but never like that. He wanted her enough to not risk giving in to impulse, but he wasn't sure he could control himself if she were to actually come into his presence. Fortunately, her way in and her destination would keep her far from Intel Room 3 and his frustrated cravings.
She ended up entering through a window that was hidden behind a bush. While she broke into an interview room near the med labs, Marco covered the sound and drew the attention of the closest guard with noises from the nearest external speaker. Once inside, she thanked him breathlessly and told him her plan--to find Maia and the other 4400s, hide, then sedate them. She said Maia was supposed to be with Dr. Hudson from NTAC medical, so she figured he'd have drugs to keep people calm. If only Marco could get his hands on some! Diana hadn't wasted time discussing with him whether or not a 4400 was involved; both were smart enough to assume it. Marco didn't bother pointing out that he figured sedating the 4400 responsible would likely do nothing; he was just grateful to get her off the phone so he could put all his efforts into figuring out a way to counter the effects of the signal.
Unfortunately, without something concrete to work on, P.J. and Brady were soon at each other's throats, again. Deciding he'd do better solo, he ganged up on P.J. with Brady and quickly had him restrained. Then he turned on Brady. With the liberal use of extension cords for binding and threats of the destruction of other favorite decorations, he got them to sit put and shut up. At last, he could think in peace!
Wiping the clearboard clean, he began working on his own equations. Dealing with the sound like any other wave, rather than worrying about the biological effects it produced, he focused on creating a counter-signal that would cancel out the original. He didn't consider another option; his theory would work--it had to.
In an attempt to maximize time, he played his altered signal on the Theory Room speakers as he manipulated it. Although doing so put them all at risk of being noticed by someone outside, it would allow him to learn the effects of his counter-signal in real-time, without having to test it on the computer first. He'd only been working on it for about forty minutes when his phone rang.
"Kinda busy, here, Diana."
"We just put the 4400's under, but we're not sure if that's killed the signal." Something about the "we"s bothered him, but he was more irritated by the disruption. "Do you still feel amped up?"
He'd known knocking out the 4400 responsible wouldn't work; the signal had to be negated. "Yes, I do. Okay? I'm working on it from my end." What more did she want from him? Didn't she understand he was working as fast as he could?
"What's that noise?"
"I-I'm trying to counter the effects of the signal." He felt the solution was just within reach. "If you'd just shut up for a second, maybe I could find the right frequency." Was that so much to ask for?
"Okay, calm down, Marco. I need you to do this." It sounded so patronizing, like she was soothing a temperamental dog. That's what he felt like, sometimes, her blindly loyal dog. Anything for a pat on the head.
"Mmm, always has to be me, doesn't it, huh? Old, reliable, Marco--does whatever you want."
On the other end of the phone, he could hear the sounds of pounding and gunfire, and it made him mad that he couldn't confront her and her threat in person.
"Marco, I've got to go." There was a hint of desperation in her voice. "Tell me you're close."
"I'm close."
"Thanks...for everything. Good-bye, Marco." The quiet finality of it made him want to throw his cell against the wall, to smash it like the Einstein bust.
"Yeah." Grimly reminding himself she was both armed and capable, he shut off his phone and shoved it in his pocket. He hadn't needed more pressure to pull this rabbit out of his hat, but he certainly felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders.
After a few more minutes of tweaking, he could sense the tension and anger begin to fade. At last, he started feeling more like himself, and in doing so, he could reflect clearly on his behavior. It mortified him. While they may have contributed to his solving the problem faster, the things he'd said to Diana and how he'd dealt with P.J. and Brady were not acceptable. True, he hadn't slugged anyone, like P.J., but how could he face Diana after this? What would he say?
Of course, there were more important things to deal with than his personal problems. First and foremost, he needed to free his colleagues, take down the barrier they'd erected and get them both medical attention. It made him feel a little better that they were feeling apologetic and sheepish, themselves, especially P.J. Together they did what needed doing, and the feeling of working as a team was heartening. Once his coworkers were being attended by paramedics, he set himself to gathering data about what had happened. Whomever was in charge after this would need a preliminary analysis of the lockdown and its potential repercussions as soon as possible.
The initial findings were pretty grim--six dead and dozens injured. He and his fellow geeks had done pretty well, all things considered. It gave him the resolve to talk with Diana. After all, learning what had happened with the 4400 at NTAC during all this was vital to the investigation of the incident, and she had been with them through the last hour or so. He found her pushing Maia in a wheelchair toward an exit of the medical wing. Seeing Diana safe sent a surprisingly profound wave of relief through him. She was focused on Maia, murmuring words of assurance to her daughter, and wasn't aware of him at first. With a peculiar rash peppering one arm and a stuffed dog clutched determinedly in both hands, Maia looked sweaty and spent. No wonder Diana had been so worried about her. He hated to interrupt them, especially knowing all Diana had gone through to reach her little girl. He was standing in a connecting hallway that was dark due to someone having shot out the backup lights, so they almost passed him without noticing.
"Mommy, it's Marco." Her tired, raspy voice tugged at his heart strings. The poor kid had been through a hell of a day.
Diana looked up, and for a moment, they just stared at each other. He felt naked in front of her, as though she had suddenly gained the ability to see right through him and found him lacking, yet she smiled in greeting. Some part of his brain managed to prod him into speech.
"I'm glad you're both all right." He cringed. Maia was obviously not all right. "Well, not hurt in any case."
"Thanks to you."
Despite her praise, it felt awkward, like she didn't know quite how to handle him. The investigation be damned--he couldn't let this sit. There was no way to take back what he'd said, but he could apologize, try to undo the damage.
"About what I said..."
"It's okay. I know you weren't yourself." She shrugged. "I mean, Tom wanted to shoot me-"
"He what?"
Diana blinked in surprise at his outburst, and from the corner of his eye, he saw several heads turn.
"Actually, I was more worried about him. If Max hadn't tackled him, I might have had to pull the trigger."
Calling people by their first names was fairly standard for Diana, but this was one he didn't recognize.
"Max?"
"Dr. Hudson," explained Maia. "He took care of me while you helped mommy get back inside."
The familiarity and appreciation with which Diana had mentioned the physician caused a subtle tug of concern in some distant part of Marco's psyche, but he ignored it. What mattered was getting things back onto an even keel with her.
"I had him go with some agents to secure the 4400 we had. We're going to head to the hospital to take care of Maia's rash." She looked past him and smiled in a way he had only seen her use with him. "Here he is."
Marco turned to find a tall, dark, buff, handsome doctor approaching, the kind any mother would want her daughter to bring home. Add to that his having kept Maia safe for Diana, and it made Marco distinctly uneasy. But Max had protected both Maia and Diana, so Marco couldn't bring himself to summarily dislike the guy. Besides, he looked like he'd been through hell.
"Hey, Maia." The physician placed an I.V. on the hook connected to Maia's wheelchair then knelt to attach it to the needle already in her hand. "I've got something that should make you feel a bit better, get some more fluids into you."
"Thanks." It came out more like a croak than a word.
"Marco, meet Max," introduced Diana.
"That was you?" Max straightened with a smile and shook Marco's hand. "Great timing. A few seconds longer, and I think she'd have put a bullet in me."
Marco turned his surprised gaze to Diana. "You were going to shoot him, too? Glad I was in the basement."
They all got a chuckle out of that...well, everyone but Maia.
Max briefly touched Diana's elbow, causing her to give the physician a disgruntled glance. "I'm heading out to the ambulances." He said it in a way which suggested he expected Diana to follow.
With an instinctive displeasure stirring in his gut, Marco wasn't sure what to make of their behavior, but he had personal and professional matters he'd yet to discuss with her. "Actually, I was hoping for a few minutes before you leave..."
Diana seemed genuinely uncomfortable, then Max offered a solution. "Why don't I take Maia and meet you outside. I should pick up a few files before I leave, anyway."
"Meet you there." Leaning over, she gave Maia a kiss. "I'll be with you in a minute, okay?"
Maia nodded glumly and was wheeled away by the good doctor.
Lowering his voice, Marco asked, "So...how are you doing?" He knew she hadn't been physically injured, but that didn't mean she was all right.
She glanced away and started walking; he fell into step beside her. "Tired, horrified about what happened, anxious about Maia."
"You really had me worried." It was as close as he could come to telling her all he felt.
After a long, thoughtful look, she asked, "How about you?"
"Okay, other than needing to replace P.J.'s bust of Einstein."
That caused her to snort. "What did you do?"
"Pitched it at the monitor wall."
"Did anyone get hurt?"
"Other than our pride, there was P.J.'s knuckle and Brady's nose." Pulling out his preliminary report, he handed it to her. "After compiling this, I know how lucky we were."
Her brow furrowed and she came to a halt as she scanned the paper. "I just can't believe..."
"The signal caused us to do things we normally would never do." He shrugged.
"You didn't hurt anyone."
"I was with two guys I was confident I could handle, and...I didn't have a gun." Sticking his hands in his pockets, he tried to confess. "I did and said a lot of things..."
She held up a hand to cut him off. "Forget about it. Despite all that, you still managed to get me to Maia and counter the signal." Lowering the paper, she looked up. "You were right, though."
"About what?"
Her gaze was searching, her voice just slightly apologetic. "I do rely on you a lot."
"I'm glad." And he was.
For a moment, they quietly observed one another, and then the power in their section of the building went on.
"I guess I should find Nina and show her my report." Even with a bullet wound, Marco imagined the head of NTAC would want to be kept up-to-date. He started walking, and Diana went with him.
She shook her head. "Nina's on the way to the hospital. She said Tom'll be in charge."
"Not you?"
"She knows I have to deal with Maia, right now."
"Then I'd better touch base with him."
"He'll be out with the ambulances, too." Her face took on an embarrassed cast. "He'll need to get something for his head because I pistol whipped him."
Marco nearly tripped in surprise. "Is he okay?" He hadn't learned of that particular injury.
"Seemed to be."
If Diana could be okay with Tom after being threatened with a gun and then knocking him out, maybe Marco didn't have so much to worry about, after all. They came to a T in the hallway, each needing to go in a different direction.
Looking everywhere but into his eyes, she lifted the paper and asked, "Can I keep this?"
"Sure." He had the information memorized, and if someone else needed a copy, he could access his report from any terminal. "Good luck with Maia. Let me know how it goes and if you need anything."
"I think you'll have your hands full, here."
"I'd find the time."
Meeting his gaze, she smiled at him, an odd, sad smile. "Yeah, you always do." Lowering her eyes, she turned and walked away.
He stood for a minute, watching her go. Although he'd tried not to think about it, he couldn't help but consider how differently the day might have gone if he'd attended to the signal before helping Diana. Would there have been fewer deaths and injuries? Would Maia have been killed by the 4400-hostile NSA agents? Either way, there was nothing that could be done about it. His morose contemplation was interrupted by a text message from special agent Mick O'Donnell--the mainframe wasn't coming fully out of lockdown. Marco had already sent the IT guys home and P.J. and Brady to the hospital, so it was up to him. The time on his cell read that it was already six. Would he ever get home, today? At least he was still fit to work.
Marco decided to give Mick some quick reassurance that the mainframe would be dealt with in due time and check on the 4400 first, to give Tom a few minutes to deal with his head before dumping the technical responsibilities of NTAC on his back. En route, he called the Theory Room's favorite Chinese place and ordered one of everything; he wasn't the only one who'd need to eat. With a sigh, he pushed his personal concerns for Diana and Maia and P.J. and Brady aside to focus on the job ahead. It was going to be a long night.
