Another one finished, and I'm almost done the next one too, so it shouldn't be too long. I hope. Thank you for reviewing, they're lovely. Please enjoy this next part. I'm working on redoing some parts, clearing up stuff, so bear with me and send me a message if you want to help. (please)

Chapter 5

"What the hell is he doing?" No matter where he stood, he couldn't quite make out what the blond was doing. The camera was useless, the boy having destroyed every one they put in within a few minutes of connection no matter where or how well it was hidden; to make it worse, the last thing recorded was always a little wave and a teasing grin.

A nervous aide shuffled beside him, hands twisting nervously. "I don't know, Sir, but he's been doing it since we checked on him at four."

"So no one knows when he began whatever he's doing. Wonderful." Sarcasm had the young man cringing. "Fine. Get a team ready, we're starting again."

"Yes, Sir, they're ready now. And Frin was notified yesterday that he would be up today."

'Not Frin. What a prick.' Dark hair shook quickly in disgust; Frin was an older man who had been an instructor for nearly forty years, was a believer in beating obedience into everything from a pet to a good soldier, and had a taste for boys under the age of twelve. All in all, a disgusting man whom Darias avoided as if he had the plague, and Taran had to agree. But he was strong, and if he made it, would be a good control as long as he kept his hands to himself. "Well, he's not first. We'll try him second today."

A quiet, "Yes, Sir." and the assistant backed out quickly. The telepath stood and watched until he was notified of his first subject's arrival. Another woman, an empath this time, a strong, polite lady he'd known for years and who was on the same training team as him and Darias. She turned nearly white as the door shut but stayed in control, forcing herself forward and chatting with the boy on the floor.

"Hello. My name is Emily. Your name is Farfarello?" No acknowledgment but no rebuke either, so she pressed forward, carefully checking for signs of aggression toward her under the hate that swirled around him. "It's very nice, where did you get it?"

"Book." He didn't look up from his project and she leaned forward to see; his hand was suddenly over her eyes. "No."

Emily retreated slowly, letting his hand fall away when she couldn't see anymore. "Alright. What would you like to talk about?" He was still mostly ignoring her and she tapped a finger to his nose, watching his eye focus on it sharply. "It's not nice to ignore people. You should speak to them."

"No one is nice here." But he was looking at her now, watching her hands so she moved them, drawing shapes, flexing the long fingers, trailing the nails over cement. The harsh hum of hatred was fading, replaced by interest.

When she raised a hand, he followed, moving closer to her side so he could see when she moved it behind her head; his project was covered with a blanket before he moved but she caught a glimpse of a half full bowl and a book with pictures of plants. "Do you like my nails?" No answer, but he made a grab for her wrist, pulling it out and touching the long nails lightly, pushing gently to watch the color change. "Here."

Her free hand took his and pressed them together; his hand was as large as hers, even with the long nails. When did he get so big? She remembered the skinny boy who'd arrived, she'd been one of the first to receive him, and these hands weren't those of a child, or even an early teen. It was fine for a minute, head tilted, then he tensed up and jerked away, breaking her hold easily.

"Farfarello, what's wrong? Do you not like to be held down? That's alright. Can I still sit with you?" The single eye watched her warily and he scooted backwards, metal gleaming in his hand. "Would you like me to leave?" She didn't feel anything dangerous, just a faint hint of longing, as if he wanted to sit with her. "Well, I'm going to read if you don't want to talk."

A thin book was pulled out of her bag, a children's book of fairy tales filled with pictures and simple text, but useful for calming the younger children who came through. The bright colors drew his attention and he crawled forward immediately to lift the book from her lap. She held on, forcing it flat against her legs. "No. You can read with me but you can not have it without asking politely first."

She was eyed distrustfully and he tugged again; she pulled back, meeting his gaze straight on, showing she was serious. White teeth nibbled his bottom lip while the teen thought about it, not moving, then he twisted to grab a piece of paper and his pencil. The pencil was held out and shaken to show it was empty. A pale brow rose at him and she waited, forcing him to ask. "Pencil."

Long hair nodded. "Yes, it is a pencil." He frowned at her a bit and set the pencil down, holding out his hand for a new one.

Silence and they stared at each other, waiting. Seemingly eternal minutes passed and she felt a flutter in her stomach; how long would he wait? Finally, he took his hand down and folded his legs, still staring. His hand reached for her bag and she moved it a bit, putting it behind her so he couldn't reach. "Pencil please."

"Certainly." A wood pencil was pulled out and handed over to be sharpened before he started to draw, neat lines sliding across the white paper. There, a firm hand and he could at least interact decently with others. "Shall I read?" White nodded absently, not looking up from his sketch.

Three stories were read, the pictures turned so he could see if he wanted to look up, which he didn't. At the end of the third, he finished his picture and scribbled along the top, did a bit of final shading and handed it over. She squinted at his messy scrawl then moved on, unable to read it. A scene from what appeared to be 'Little Red Riding Hood' with a wolf devouring a woman in a lightly shaded cloak; detailed gore and the horror on the small face were disturbing enough, but after a second, she realized it was her face, her long hair splayed out around the body.

He was staring again, watching intently for a reaction, and she kept her face blank while she put the picture down. "Why would you draw that?"

His eye didn't waver and his voice was high, a bit feminine, a hint of English accent adding a touch of snobbery. "Useless brat, we should just shoot him instead of wasting time and space on him. There isn't room for someone who needs this much care. We could say he died in transport, no one would care." Her brow furrowed in confusion then her eyes widened; that was what she said the first time she saw him, tied and so drugged they couldn't even get a mental reading.

"Where did you hear that?" Pale skin slid over graceful limbs as he rolled to his knees and crawled around her.

Warm air touched her cheek as he passed by, soft hair brushing her ear with his whisper. "Worthless bitch, we should just rip her heart out and use it as ingredients for stew instead of wasting manners and words on her." The picture was lifted from her side and folded neatly to be tucked into a pocket of her shirt. "We could say it was an accident, a failure of her control, no one would care." Hard hands clamped down on her shoulders suddenly and she jumped, breath coming quickly as she tried to stay calm.

And still, there was no aggression, no anger towards her, nothing to indicate he would attack. Unexpectedly, he was gone, the warmth of his body lingering against her back. "I'm tired of you, go away please." Mocking laughter as he used perfect manners to dismiss her. "Thank you for coming, please don't come again."

Taran was already at the door, coding it open when she banged her fist against the buzzer. "Shit, what happened?" The woman was pale, hands shaking, bag tumbling open, threatening to spill its contents.

Emily took a shuddering breath and blew it out slowly. "Played me. He knew exactly who I was and he played me. He remembers, the first day he arrived, he remembers it."

"Impossible, his mental functions were completely shut down. I checked them myself; it was blank, just static." His jacket bunched in her grip.

"No, it's not, it wasn't. He quoted me, exactly, word for word, and I only said it to you, Taran, only you and I were there when he came in." Dark hair nodded quickly and he disentangled her hand. "I'm not going back in and I don't think anyone else should either. He is a menace and he needs to be put down before we completely lose him." A long nail jabbed him it the chest with every second word.

A heavy hand ran over the short dark hair and he looked both ways in the hall. "Look, just one more. I went to Standford and he" Her mouth opened and he shushed her quickly, whispering. "Yes, yes, I know, but we can't do this. He almost got Number 7JW29, and all four level 18's had to have to their memories altered. This is ridiculous, we should never have brought him here and I should have listened to you. Ok?" Her mouth opened again and he covered it quickly. "Stanford says if he went through all four 18's and two 19's without a match, we put Number JD910 back and if there are still problems, he's gone. You and I are the only ones who know this, understand? Tell no one."

Long hair nodded quickly. "Of course. You're sure? Hardring is going to get you, you know that."

"We're supposed to be building an empire, a new generation, not sacrificing them to a blood crazed monster." A quick check behind him and he leaned closer, voice lowering to barely a brush of air across her ear. "He got Darias yesterday, sliced his shoulder right behind me, nearly slit his throat before I could even get a decent shot off. We've already lost control."

Her breath came in with a sharp gasp and he shushed her again. "Taran, are you down there?" A courtesy call, because of course he knew they were there. "Hello, Emily. Are you alright?"

She smiled shakily at the brunet. "Yes, thank you Darias. I was just reporting to Taran and I think I'll go back to my quarters, see if Zip is there." A little step was taken away from the new arrival's partner as he moved closer, sliding a hand casually to rest at the base of the taller man's spine.

"Oh, I was just talking to him, he was looking for you. If I'd known you were still here, I would have told him." A slightly sharp smile. "Sorry."

Taran smiled apologetically as his partner ran a hand up his back and Emily smiled up at them both. "Not a problem. I'll just go find him. Good luck, I hope he behaves decently." She grabbed her bag and shut it firmly then paused. "And he gave me this, I don't really want it. See if you can get anything out of it." The picture was carefully tugged out of her pocket with two fingers and handed over. She waved one last time and walked quickly down the hall towards the dormitories, Darias glaring after her.

::Really, why do you have to be like that with her?:: The glare moved to him as he opened the sharply folded paper.

::Me? You're the one who's always all over her.:: He huffed and took his hand from the firm back. ::I'm not talking about this now. What'd he do?::

::Emily says he knew who she was, quoted her on things he shouldn't have known. Scared her pretty badly, she thinks he should be put down.:: They stared at the detailed drawing. ::Huh, no wonder. That would be enough to make me a bit edgy, considering he had his hands on her shoulders.::

::This is really good. I'm keeping it.:: A bright grin and the page was snatched away.

::No, it's going for analysis, see if we can find out a couple of things.:: And then it was going to the incinerator. He'd make sure of it. ::Think he'll give us another one?::

The younger man shot a glance at the door. ::Maybe. Want me to ask?:: His partner nodded and he called through to the blond. "Farfarello? Lock the inner door." There was silence for a minute then a yellow eye popped up in front of him, staring through the window. "Come on, now." ::Taran, did he lose that eye?::

::I don't know, we haven't tried to have a look yet.:: He watched the boy retreat behind the inner door, there was a click of the lock and the key clattered on the floor. The outer door was coded and they stepped through.

Darias picked up the key and knocked on the inner door. "Farfarello, I'd like to talk to you. I want you to promise not to hurt either of us, ok?" No answer and he knocked again; the door swung open abruptly and they stared at the form holding the door open.

"Hello." Taran yanked his gun out, swinging it up to point over Darias' shoulder. "That's not nice."

A delicate hand lifted to rest against the barrel of the weapon and a pink tongue wet dry lips. "Farfarello, how did you open the door?" The key was cool in his hand and there was only one copy, the one hanging in the observation room. Thin shoulders shrugged and the blond fighter stepped back, arm moving in invitation for them to enter. "Will we be safe?" Another shrug and the older man took a step back, forcing his partner backwards slowly.

"No killing." Another slow step back. "No blood." One more step and they were at the door to the hall when the youngest grinned. "I won't hurt either of you if you don't hurt me first."

Taran was about to take the final step when his partner smiled and walked forward, leaving him standing and feeling like an idiot with gun drawn on an unarmed boy and his partner's back.

Darias followed the silent boy and settled on his knees when he did; a piece of candy was dug out of his pocket, the one he'd traded for and was saving for Taran, and held out. "Would you like it?" A quick grab and the foil was played with but not unwrapped. "It's chocolate, there's nothing in it."

Thin shoulders shrugged and the gold eye watched him quietly. The empath could feel his partner behind him, the flash of metal at the corner of his eye showing the gun resting against the long leg pressed to his shoulder. Foil crinkled quietly as they stared at each other, the younger men relaxed and the telepath tense and edgy, nervous energy rolling off his shoulders. "Farfarello, can I see your eye?"

"No." Well, at least he got a response. He tried again.

"Farfarello, do you not like the people we've brought you? They would all make good teammates." A shrug and the eye wandered away, staring at the wall. "Well, I wanted to talk to you about your pictures." The careless gaze wandered back. "May I see some? Anything you want to show me is fine."

Silence and the blond turned and dug through his stash of finished papers, bringing a handful out and holding them between them. Darias took them and flipped through quickly; neat, clear lines, smudges of lead and blood used as coloring, the smallest details present. A picture of him and Taran was there, the smaller man's eyes wide and black, gun steady in his hand, other arm outstretched from shoving his partner, who was turning quickly, his coat flaring with the motion; even the tiny wrinkles at the edges of his mouth and the small birthmark just in front of Taran's ear were there.

::Taran, look.:: He felt the slight shift, the tiny glances while trying to keep an eye on the blond, who was playing with his chocolate, fingering the foil gently. ::These are amazing, look at the detail.::

::Cold. They feel cold, don't you think?:: Too analytical, perfect in every detail; for him to see and reproduce that moment with them both shooting at him, that was cold. ::Just talk him into giving them to you and let's go.::

Papers rustled quietly as the younger brunet flipped through them again. "Farfarello, do you have any of Schuldig?"

"Guilt? Of course." The boy got up and dug through the bed, dragging a stack out from under a pillow and trotted back with them; the foil wrapped candy was gone, disappeared into hiding. "These are mine." Still pleasant, still smiling a bit but a possessive tone claimed the drawings as his and his alone. Darias nodded quickly and took them carefully, lifting and placing each aside as he examined them.

'Damn.' They were, beautiful was the only word he could think of. Some had short hair, some had long, some were of the older boy sleeping, stretching, laughing, glaring at the target when his throws or shots missed. The most striking was of him leaning back on his elbow, a still bleeding mark on his chest as he dragged a delicate hand through the blood, streaking it across the thin stomach. It was erotic in a way, a child with far too much malice in his eyes, the curve of full lips in a vicious smile, and terrifying at the same time, this dangerous boy, filled with a scarred, harsh beauty and hate.

He kept that one, running his fingers lightly over the clear lines, nearly petting it. "Do you lust for him? Is he beautiful to you?" A sharp smirk and amber glowed, bright metal flashing between lean fingers.

"Yes, he is beautiful. No, I do not lust after him." Dark eyes glanced back at his partner and he smiled. "I have Taran. I don't need or want your partner."

When he looked back down, the blond was mere centimeters away, leaning in close to stare. There was a long pause, Taran's leg taut against him, the click of the safety loud and sharp. "True." Dark eyes blinked slowly and the boy was back in his original position. "What have you come for?"

Fear tried to edge along his spine but he crushed it quickly; he, they could have died, right then if he'd lied. "We came to ask to have a picture. Any would do." A pale hand waved for him to take one from the first set but he couldn't make himself let go of the last picture. "And, I want to ask for this one. As a favor, for me." It wasn't part of the plan, but he couldn't let something like that just slip away, be destroyed somehow without trying to save it.

Fire, heat and rage, flared and a hand of ice wrapped around his throat, cold nose leaning into touch his cheek and slide along the bone. No metal, just cold, cold skin touched his and he heard Taran bring his weapon up; the press of a hand to the older man's shin made him pause and he waited it out, nerves taut and anxious.

Hot air, as if from a furnace flared along the curve of Darias' neck and a wet tongue flicked over his ear. "Should we trade? I'll give it to you if you give me your partner."

"No." Not that, but the trading idea had merit. "Something else."

Thick lashes brushed his cheek, the pale head turned to look him in the eye, yellow bright and clear. "Teach me about empaths, and I'll give you this one." A paper appeared, folded in quarters; it was unfolded gently and the quick intake of air was nearly a gasp. Schuldig from the hips up, head tipped back under the spray of a shower, blood still streaking his face and shoulders, dripping from his hair, pink tinted water running over his chest and stomach; it must be cold, his back was slightly curved, stomach sucked into a concave arch as if to escape, and his nipples were hard, skin drawn tightly over slender muscle.

Taran was a faint voice in his head, telling him to hurry up, but the clear lines, the seemingly innocent image captured him, the deadly subtext, the implications of showering off that much blood repelled him as much as it drew him. "Don't you want it?" It was just as beautiful, just as erotic and frightening.

White hair pulled back, releasing him from the frozen spell, and thin shoulders shrugged negligently. "It's not real." His eye cut over the scattered pictures. "Some are true and some are not and some do not matter." The handful of pictures of Schuldig was in his hands, the ones Darias hadn't even realized he'd taken, and gentle fingers ran over the edges.

The questions burned at his tongue (What is real? What is true? How can you possibly tell?) but were held back firmly. Instead, he reached back and was lifted gracefully to his feet, a handful of pictures gathered from the floor. "Thank you, Farfarello. I'm glad we could reach an agreement. We'll go so you can eat. It's about time for a meal, isn't it? I'll come back tomorrow with some books for you." A soft grunt and they left, Taran keeping a careful eye on the blond, who stayed sitting, idly running his fingers over his drawings.

Half way down the hall and Darias stopped to lean on the wall, staring at the papers. "Holy shit, Taran, did you see these?" An impatient nod from his partner and they started to walk again, the shorter man running his fingers continuously over the clear lines. "Such a waste, this kind of talent."

"Whatever. I hate that name he picked for himself, sounds stupid." Heavy steps stomped along, annoyance radiating from the lean body and the empath patted his arm lightly then pinched when he was swatted at.

"Who cares? Every time you say it, he looks at you, it keeps his attention. It's just a name, maybe he hates yours." Taran had stopped and was staring down at his partner, who stared serenely back up.

His fingers flexed, hands clenching quickly. "You, someday," He was practically growling and Darias contained his laughter. "You are a pain in the ass."

::But you love me anyway.:: A pleased little smile and the younger man stepped around and trotted off, leaving his fuming partner behind. "Come on, let's drop these off and have something to eat before the last match."

1234567890

"What do you mean, nothing?" Taran slammed his hands on the old table, causing it to shake under the force. "I thought you were the best? There has to be something!"

Darias' hand skimmed his back as the smaller brunet moved forward, smiling softly. "What Taran means, is are you certain? He wasn't thinking of anything, feeling anything that might help us?" The psychometric young man shook his head, long blue and green hair flying.

"Look, there's nothing there. Whoever drew these wasn't upset, happy, aggressive, angry, anything. He was only thinking of drawing the picture, which lines to add, which to erase, not about the subject or his reasons. I'm sorry, but I can't help you." He tried to smile at Darias and ignored Taran's growl of frustration.

"Can you read what he wrote? Maybe that will help." Pale blue eyes rolled but the long haired man picked the picture up again and closed his eyes, focusing closely.

A soft intake of breath and the paper was dropped back to the table. "All wickedness is but little to the wickedness of a woman." (Ecclesiasticus 25:19) The older pair frowned at him. "That's what it says, that's what he was thinking when he wrote it. No hate, no anger, just that phrase, calm and quiet."

"Fuck!" The dark-haired telepath stomped away from the table to kick the wall a few times while his quieter partner thanked the psychometric and gathered the pages. "Darias, show him the other one."

The empath's lips tightened but he pulled the picture of Schuldig out to hand over. He hadn't wanted to share that, just take it back to his room and put it somewhere safe. It was taken and thin lips parted immediately, shallow breaths coming in and out rapidly. "Wow. This is, wow."

"What? Come on, we don't have all day." Taran had stopped abusing the wall and stalked over to watch the multicolored hair shake.

Shivers ran down the slim back and the young man grinned at them. "Amazing. The same person drew these? This is absolutely crammed with thoughts, calm, happy, affectionate. Not lonely, more bored, wishing this person would come back, curious about where he is, why he isn't there." Blue closed and he delved a bit deeper, shoulders jerking faintly. "Damn. He, hates this person, nearly as much as he adores him, for leaving him. The empath, is that you? He's very annoyed with the empath and the shooter, for taking the boy, for leaving him with inferior toys."

"Damn it all to hell, this isn't helping!" Darias shushed his partner with a light push at sturdy shields.

"That's fine, anything else?" Long hair shook and the page was handed back without a word. "Alright, thank you. If you think of anything, send me a note, please." A pleasant smile and he hustled his fuming partner out the door, papers folded in his pocket.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit, wasted time, that fucking brat, I" A firm hand covered his mouth.

"Taran, enough. We got what we needed." A curious grunt and Darias smiled, cool and sharp. "Killing, pain, fear, they mean nothing to him. But he still feels, especially for Schuldig. As soon as Frin is rejected as a partner, we'll put Schuldig back, even if he is injured. Farfarello will take care of him." His hand was removed and he took a calloused hand in his, pulling his partner down the hall for lunch. "Everything will be perfect."

1

2

3

4

5

Hooray, next chapter done! Please review, I love to get them.