Chapter Six: Sound
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells…
Pearse was slouching in his seat. He had no expression on his face, no rebuke on his lips even though Vaughan wanted him desperately to react. Pearse had always been action- cruelty perhaps, even a callousness that left even an old soldier numb but action nonetheless. He had been movement, determination. The foundation. The general. The reason…
Whenever the sheer disbelief of what he did hit Vaughan in the chest and dared to topple him, or whenever the simple pain of it all had caused him to stumble or reach out blindly; Harman had always been there. Pearse had always been so sure of what they did, so adamant that it was necessary. He'd been wiser then to employ words like right and just; had been careful on that account, for Vaughan. Pearse had provided what Vaughan needed. A reason, not justification. In that respect, the priest was more faithful then god, more attentive then Lucifer.
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
But the priest did not move, long after Michael and Angela had stopped explaining. He just stared into the corner of his office; stony faced and silent as a tomb. Angela was sitting on his desk squeezing his arm, her eyes dark and concerned. Michael had fallen back and was staring into the same corner as Pearse was. His face was relaxed, bored even. Vaughan wasn't surprised: cops were comfortable with traitors and treachery. For them it was just another aspect of humanity, another brand of petty crimes; akin to parking tickets and drug peddling.
But for a priest- for a soldier- spies, and subterfuge were extremes. For the former, treason made the Heavens fall and for the later, countries crumbled. Neither one's brain seemed able to grasp the idea that someone could claim to be something wholly, completely and then suddenly not be.
Yes, Pearse had encountered countless masses of people had chosen to discard their humanity to become leeches and yes, he had met dozes of monsters that could masquerade as humans. But had he ever loved one…
The word stopped Vaughan's musings cold. It changed things. Love...they had never really thought a leech was capable of it.
What about Pearse…
It made the room colder.
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
Vaughan shifted in his place. Without thinking, he pushed his coat back and readjusted his holster. It was a nervous habit he'd had since basic. When in doubt, check your ammo. Wordlessly, he pulled the gun and unfolded the mirror. He watched Michael in the mirror for a second and then lifted the gun slightly, catching Pearse's in his sight.
The gun cocked
And Pearse, looking up and staring up at the barrel, suddenly recoiled.
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
And Vaughan realized he was shivering.
Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head; it is some dream that on the deck…
Pearse swallowed and straightened. "Angela, you've done enough…for the week, haven't you. You should go to home and sleep."
If Angie noticed the stiffness in his voice, or the dismissal; she didn't care. Her voice took on the same impassioned reluctance it always held. "You need me right now…"
Pearse met her eyes for a brief moment and then he rose slowly and moved to his private bathroom. "I think you've done all I required…you have a daughter to look after."
"She's fine!" Angie stood and took after him. "We have more…"
"Go home, March." Pearse said coolly. "What comes next isn't for you."
It was her turn to recoiled. Vaughan replaced his gun and straightened. He thought he heard something of the coldness in Pearse's voice. Something familiar. It heartened him, so much so, he barely heard Angie's reply. "And what's that exactly…"
"If Vaughan is right, we've already lost too much time. Colm won't wait. We need to act first…"
O Captain…
From above them, a fire alarm sounded. Pearse looked up first, but Michael was at the door, peering out, gun appearing from nowhere and finding itself comfortably in his hand. Angie moved closer to Pearse, and Vaughan moved closer to her. Pearse glanced back at her and her hand, before clapping his over hers. He returned his desk, pulling a gun from his desk drawer.
Michael opened the door. The hallway was blackened and glowing red and white from the flashing alarms. The electronic howl whined in and out of scope, like old sirens.
"What do you think, mate?" Vaughan called, inching closer to Michael and peering over his head into the darkened hallway. "Could be nothing…"
"Could be…" Michael said, ignoring him.
On cue, there was a rattle of gunfire in the distance, followed by a scream cut short.
"Isn't." Michael finished.
O Captain…
Michael disappeared into the darkness, gun at the ready. Before Vaughan or Angie reacted, Pearse was behind him- swallowed up whole by the darkness. The two remaining exchanged long looks and unspoken words. Then Angela walked over to Pearse's desk and pulled a second gun out. "You saw him?"
There was a silence as Vaughan decided on what she meant. "In the scope, yeah."
Angela nodded, and unfolded the mirror. "Follow him. Keep it that way…"
"And if I can't…"
You've fallen…
Angela looked up as the office lights failed and the generators took over. The room became bathed in the red dull glow of the generators and sprinkler systems. Vaughan saw the scar on her upper lip, the coolness of her eyes, heard the tremble in her voice. "Keep it that way."
Vaughan nodded.
"I'm going downstairs. The power supply's down there and the vault needs to be secured. They won't be foolish enough to try that but…best to be prepared. You know what to do."
Wordlessly he turned and plunged into the darkness.
Cold and dead…