A Sentinel for Lost
By NearMercury
Disclaimer: The plot is mine, Lost is mine. Everything else isn't. Standard please-don't-sue-me-I-have-no-money disclaimer here.
(( From last chapter - - - "No," Kevin sounded as though the admission was painful. "No, there's no connection." ))
"I'm sorry," grunted Jim, his own experience its own kind of bond to Kevin. He clutched harder at Blair as if afraid his Guide might disappear.
Lost's shoulders slumped and he pressed at a growing pain behind his temple. Breaking a healing connection when there was still damage drained him greatly and always left behind a residual pain. "I think I should go," Lost said.
"I'll call a driver to take you," Blair broke in quickly. "You shouldn't drive like this, Doc," he said in the face of Lost's scowl of refusal.
"And no Sentinel would let you," Jim added determinedly as Lost opened his mouth to argue.
"No Sentinel has a say over me," Lost snapped, his pain eating away at his patience.
"Really?" Kevin growled, stepping forward with all the menace his bulk allowed.
"Is that so, doc?" Jim added, his smile more than slightly feral.
Lost rolled his eyes witheringly. "I've dealt with far worse than you two," he said. "Blair, I'll call when I get home to let you know I'm safe," Lost met the other Guide's gaze meaningfully. "But I am travelling alone."
"Fine," Blair had to catch at Jim's arm as the Sentinel went to protest. "No, that's fine. Just be sure you call, or Jim will have a team of Sentinels on your tail…."
"More than willing to break down your door," Jim but in.
"And I'll be worried," Blair finished, as though Jim had never spoken. The crinkles on Lost's brow smoothed out as he realised he had somehow managed to pick up yet another set of overprotective friends more than willing to be annoying as hell if it meant Lost was taken care of.
"I will call," Lost promised. "The moment I get home, I promise I will call."
But Lost didn't go straight home. Walking past Shaun's Café one block from his apartment, the doctor suddenly had an overwhelming urge for a moment of quiet and caffeine.
***
The café was long and narrow, set in the space between two chunky buildings like an after thought. Small round tables sat in a single row down the centre, edged by the counter on one side and booths on the other. People sat around chatting over coffee and half eaten sandwiches.
Lost reclined in his wooden chair with a casual elegance, his feet propped on the opposite chair and a book clutched in one hand as the other twirled a spoon in his teacup. It had been another long day and the doctor was just thankful that his shredded shields were holding after five hours in court, the distant murmur of emotions more like grey noise than any discernable language. A shadow draped over the pages of Lost's book and he glanced up just in time to see a neatly dressed man tug the chair out from under his feet so that his trainers smacked against the floor. Lost's eyebrows arched up to his hairline as the man sat down primly and levelled a polite little smile at him across the table. Feeling suddenly threatened without understanding precisely why, Lost sat up straight and discarded both his spoon and his book.
"Good evening, Doctor Lost," said the man with a distinctly cool tone. "My name is Noah Fawley."
The blend of emotions that had until now been content to wash against the back of his mind roared to a tsunami of sound and died away in an instant, leaving Lost reeling from the intensity, his shields rising instinctively. Then a single, perfectly crisp sensation of calm appeared like block letters against the shield's surface.
"We need to talk." Noah said pointedly. Lost's jaw worked without sound until he caught himself and snapped it shut, vaguely embarrassed at his gormless reaction.
"No thankyou," Lost said, matching Noah's tone for cool politeness. He deliberately picked his book back up and flicked through for his page, caution keeping his mind on the other man's reaction even as his face seemed totally uninterested. Noah narrowed his eyes in a display of irritation that seemed somewhat out of place on his bland face. His next words were interrupted however by the appearance of the waitress, Emma, her pen posed over her notepad expectantly.
"What can I get you?" She asked with a smile. Noah, much to Lost's surprise, smiled back with charm.
"Coffee, please. With milk."
"Sure thing, honey," Emma said brightly before turning her smile on Lost. "More tea, Doctor?" she asked, glancing at his cup where the dregs were thoroughly stirred into remnants of sugar.
"Yes please, Emma," Lost nodded, looking up from his book at the pleasant young woman. "And put the coffee on my tab too, if you would."
"Certainly," Emma agreed. As she turned to leave she patted Lost on the shoulder in a motherly fashion. "Good for you," she said warmly and bounced off. Lost hid his face back in the pages of his book, fighting down a blush.
"She thinks I'm your date," Noah said with clear amusement.
"Apparently," Lost replied, having to work to keep his voice smooth. He turned a page pointedly, ignoring the tiny smirk tilting up the corners of Noah's thin mouth.
"Why is that I wonder?"
"I'm sure I wouldn't know."
"Do you always read during a date? Most impolite."
"Oh for…" Lost put his book down a little more firmly than intended and Noah's smirk twitched. "What do you want?"
The smirk faded. "We need to talk," he repeated.
"Yes, so you said. However, I don't care to talk to you."
Block letters splashed across Lost's shields, the calm flickering with agitation. "This is a serious matter, Doctor. You are in great danger."
"Stop that," Lost snapped. Noah's expression remained totally impassive.
"Coffee with milk?" Emma broke in, innocent of the unpleasantness she had just interrupted. She placed a mug in front of Noah who thanked her with another charming smile. "And your tea, Doctor," she continued, careful to put the more delicate china cup down without rattling it in the saucer. "Anything else I can get you two?" She asked, her eyes darting from Lost to Noah with a pleasure that made Lost want to scull his tea and get the hell out of Dodge.
"No thankyou," Noah answered for them both.
"Well, if you change your mind you just give me a wave," Emma said. Then she bent down sneakily close to Noah and said something that made Lost seriously consider smacking the woman with his book.
"It's been a long time since anyone was able to get the Doctor to put his book down. Congratulations."
Lost glared at Emma's retreating back, not wanting to turn around and see the return of the smirk. "She is not getting a tip today," he muttered.
"Oh, now that's not nice," Noah scolded.
"Drink your damn coffee," Lost snapped. He picked up his teacup and drank half of it before the lack of sugar registered. Noah simply watched him in a distant amusement.
"I'm not going away," he warned. "Not until this is sorted."
"Look," Lost said with a calm he didn't feel. "I'm a Guide without a Sentinel who now, thanks to a bunch of suited idiots who wouldn't know a real bond if it bit them, I have no job and no reason to exist. This does not mean that I want any part of whatever it is you have to offer, nor do I intend to run frightened of silent men with mind tricks." The doctor sacrificed sugar for freedom and drank the rest of his tea bitter. The cup landed lightly upon the saucer and Lost praised his steady hands. "I don't need your warnings or your threats, which ever it is that you have been trying to convey, and I would appreciate it if you left me alone."
"I represent a group of Sentinels who have been rejected by the Sentinel Guide department," Noah said.
Lost dropped his spoon. "Excuse me?"
"You've done good work, Doctor, saved many lives. But you've been sheltered by the same department that has now thrown you aside, and you're not the first." Noah leant forwards and picked Lost's spoon off the table, placing it neatly aside the tea cup. "So I am here to ask you, as a Guide, if you would consider meeting with some of the Sentinels who have been turned away from you once before."
((To be continued…))