A/N: Hi. 8D I just want you all to know that… when I get stuck and start lip gnawing… I go and read reviews. Thank you to everyone that has given me a lovely review to snack on while I slave over a hot laptop. Give me some more fresh ones please. 8D
EDIT: Thank you to Aronim for taking the time to supple such an in depth review on this chapter!
"You mean the Joanne Foster?" Eric shoved past Alex, disrupting the thing's line of thought for a moment just long enough to save the woman's life and the sanctity of this small haven. Even though the virus didn't break eye contact with the woman throughout the disturbance, his smirk promptly washed from his face and a frustrated expression crept across his features slowly. Foster's face never broke from its pleasant smile, although her attention did dive toward Eric who came forward and offered to shake her hand.
"Hi, I'm Eric Morris," he said, "and this is my cousin Mark Herald." Mercer's face didn't change, and he didn't appear even the least bit surprised.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morris," she drawled pleasantly. She really was very pretty, Alex assessed by Eric's behavior. Although, he wasn't sure if the man was just playing her to save her life or was actually attracted to her. "And you as well, Mark," she spoke, offering him her hand. Her use of familiarity with his name was completely lost on him, but Eric's eyebrows did quirk upward slightly. Alex shook her hand, which he had to work very hard not to crush. It felt very tiny, fine boned and frail in his hands. Even though he'd seen the gesture of greeting many times, he'd never actually tried it himself. Her hands were also frigid, and he did catch her breathy comment on how warm his were. He didn't respond to it.
"I've never seen you guys around here before. I come here so often that I know a fresh face or two when I see them," Foster tossed them a wink, pleasant as always when she spoke. She was clearly skilled in the art of 'meet and greet' and conversation. Alex was not, and he mentally receded from the conversation as Eric and her took over.
Alex could feel his mind beginning to wander, and as it did, it meandered over the room. The commotion of this space was nearly non existent, to be far. There was only soft chatter, and everything exuded an air of relaxation and calm. To the humans, anyway. When Eric had pulled him from his prey, he was left to stand in a room full of foreign beings with sense acutely alert to sense every bit of breathing, clanking spoons, forks and knives, shuffling and dealing cards, shattering, coughing, laughing, scooting chairs, tapping fingers, bumping balls across a pool table, brushing hair behind their ears, quieting their children into a hushed nap, kissing and flirting, drinking and adjusting their postures. The room became unbearably small, and within his mind were the voices of hundreds all shopping, talking, crying, screaming, studying and learning, fucking, dying, cleansing, cooking, birthing, wishing, running…
Alex brushed past Eric and headed for the door. As soon as he was out he flipped up his hood and curled his fists into his leather jacket's pockets. Puffs of foggy air plumed from his lips as he traveled up the steps and leaned against the rail. He desperately wanted to close his eyes and mute his mind, and all the world around him for even just one minute. Of course, it didn't work that way, but at least it was quieter out here. For some reason, distant memories within him recalled what the night should sound like in the city. Yet, now it was peaceful. He knew that within a few hours, in certain parts of the city, there would be roars and gunfire.
The knob turned in the door and Mercer tilted his head and eyed the figure exiting. It was Eric Morris with Joanne Foster on his heels. She crossed her arms around her tightly as she stepped out, her auburn hair blowing slightly in a chill wind that passed. She hugged her coat close to her body and looked up at 'Mark', a sheepish smile fluttering across her lips. She seemed undeterred when he responded to her smile with a glare.
Eric rubbed his hands together, blowing into them gently before closing the door behind Foster. "Miss here knows Ragland and wanted to chat with him," he said as he ascended the steps. Alex's left eyebrow twitched, and he fought long and hard not to reach out and swipe both of their heads off in one fell swoop. Instead, he ground his molars and clenched his fists, directing a most deadly flare at his 'comrade'.
"Hey," Eric whispered as he reached ZEUS first, "this woman knows something. Don't kill her." He past him and started off down the street. Foster passed, possibly thinking Alex didn't catch her raising her eyes from his feet to his own as the virus watched Eric swagger down the walk. Perhaps Eric didn't realize just how little sense that made to Blacklight. If someone had information he wanted, he just cracked their heads open. It was that simple.
It became clear within an instant who Foster felt most comfortable by, and she glued herself to Eric's side while she studied Alex. The way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't aware unnerved him, and it took something special to unnerve him. Paranoia crawled up his spine and made his hackles rise, and somehow, he felt, she was on to him. When they were both busy in conversation about family and their home away from here, he withdrew his cell phone and texted Eric quickly.
I won't let her leave the safe house alive, he wrote, tucking the electronic into his jacket pocket. A few seconds later, Eric twitched as his phone vibrated in his pant pocket, and he grabbed it out and glanced at it. He did well to hide it from the woman beside him, and didn't make to glance at Alex. Thankfully, he wasn't so much an idiot as to text back. Otherwise it would have become very obvious.
Her head was swimming and groggy as she came to. She became immediately aware that she was both freezing and naked. She couldn't rightly move, and when she opened up her eyes and everything was extraordinarily blurry, she became aware that she was strapped to a cold slab. Panic didn't come to her fast enough. Her breathing sped up and her heart began to pound in her ears.
"Oh my God…" she whispered, her eyes wide and bulging, her jaw tight and yet parted as she drew in and exhaled air at a rapid pace. "What's… what's… where… where am I?" Her voice was hushed and whispered, fearful. There were no other occupants in the room that she was aware of. She still couldn't quite see, and tears were coming to her eyes. Out of the blurriness, she found that she couldn't make anything out at all.
"Someone there?" She whispered, craning her head around to one side and trying to see if she could get a better view of the room at all, regardless of how blurry it was. "God, is there anyone here?" Her ever rising panic was raising the volume of her voice, and when she began to tremble and shake it was not just from the cold. "Someone? Someone!" She yelled, the sound ricocheting back at her from the confining walls.
"Oh my God, is there ANYONE?" Still no one answered back to her, and she began to sob at her helpless predicament. They racked her body, which felt too cold to truly feel. Her wrists and ankles were trapped, and she felt a sudden intense need to flail and fight. Something terrible overcame her and she snarled and gasped and pulled and strained. Still, she couldn't shake loose of her ensnarement.
"Easy there Ms. Lipinski," a radio smothered voice said, and Marian fell slack against the slab for a breath. He'd been conversing with his peers and the radio had been off. It wasn't until she'd begun screaming that they heard the muffled cry and turned to observe her behavior. It was typical 'trapped animal' antics, he thought. She wasn't a very skinny woman in her late twenties. She wasn't hefty either though. There were trace amounts of fat about her middle and thighs typical of a mother approaching her thirties. Her blondish brown hair was short and flat ironed, and had become messy and tousled during her transit and stay so far. When they'd expected her to come to, they decided to lay her across the autopsy table.
"Where am I? What do you want?" She knew she wouldn't be let go for free. There was a reason she was here right? The more she thought about though, the more she felt as though she were in some absurd movie. This only happened in theatres, right? Attempting to avoid the act of crying, she took deep and steadying breaths. The table suddenly rotated, and she found herself facing a mirror. It angled 45 degrees upward, and she could see herself in her bare nudity. Self conscious at the sight, she wanted, desperately, to cover herself up. She was restrained, and the fact that she couldn't made the panic hard to avoid.
"I will not dodge the point. You are not infected, and so we've placed you in a sterile room for studying."
"What do you mean?" She asked, and there was a pause of incredulity from the other side of what she was sure was a one way viewing window.
"It means we want to know why certain parts of the population have managed to avoid infestation."
"What are you going to do to me?" She was unable to fight down the panic any longer. Her chest heaved with sharp intakes of air and sobs began to close her throat. "Please, I'll do anything. Please, just let me go," she begged, no longer able to maintain her composure. There was nothing but silence from the other side. The longer it remained so, the more she began to yell and scream and thrash.
"You bastards!" She could feel her throat beginning to burn. "You mother fucking bastards, let me go!" Sobs overtook her, and between them, she fought to insult them further. There was nothing else. There was nothing else left that she could do.
It was quite dark by the time they'd made it to the upper section of Ragland's study ward. There were living quarters, or rather, make shift living quarters that they'd managed to carve out for themselves up there. Eric halted the two of them and said something about giving Ragland a 'heads up' before he made haste up the stairs. Alex followed his path upward, and continued to study the empty staircase even as he heard a distinct knocking sound.
"So you know Ragland, right?" Foster, either digging or making attempts at conversation, looked up at Mercer with her open and beseeching eyes. Alex slowly looked down at her, studying her petite and skinny frame and wondering how a woman like her survived in this neck of the woods. She had little hoops dangling from her ears, and her auburn hair pillowed across her shoulders in wide ringlets. While he studied her, she fluttered her eyes for a moment and pursed her lips.
"Whether I do or don't isn't really important, is it?"
"Ooh, okay. So this is like that jedi mind trick, 'you do not want to sell me death sticks'," joked with a soft laugh. Alex couldn't fathom just what the hell she was talking about, and as he glared, he tilted his head.
"Come on up!" Eric said from the stair well as he hung over it, a smile crossing her face as he waved them toward the door. Alex didn't hesitate. He marched straight up the stairs and shoved past Eric on his way into the room. Eric scoffed but didn't appear to take it personally. When Mercer stepped into the threshold, Ragland tossed him a knowing look the moment he observed the livid virus. There was a deadly set to his face that Ragland had only ever before imaged, but not quite seen.
"Ms. Foster," he called gently, stepping forward and into a persona Alex had never seen before. He slipped into the background and observed as the doctor reached out to shake the frail woman's hand. Foster stood up a little straighter, and beamed as she returned the gesture. "So what brings you to my doorstep, huh?" He asked, leading her to the threadbare couch they'd stolen from an apartment.
"Well, actually. To be honest it's nothing I want to put in the news." Suddenly, something very serious fell over this woman like an invisible being had dropped a dark shroud over her. All the bubbly pleasantness washed away in a sudden swipe and her face fell into express and demanding seriousness.
"Well, when you called I was told you wanted to do a news spot on what I might know," Ragland reminded her.
"Yes, because I'm surrounded by people that can't know why I really want to talk to you."
"And why is that?" He asked, clasping his hands together in his lap and watching as Eric sidled toward the fridge for a beer. Alex, however, remained frozen in the shadows of the apartment, attempting to become one with the furniture.
"I don't think this was a terrorist attack," she whispered suddenly, wetting her lips. She wasn't used to giving information or discussing sensitive material with people she hardly knew. Her blue eyes were worried though, and so Ragland refrained from barking out a laugh. Of course he knew that such was not quite the case, but he didn't want to let her in on what he knew.
"What makes you say that? It's been released by the military." He knew better, but attempted to throw her off.
"Yes, but witnesses said that the helicopter that took off with the bomb, and they saw it, was U.S. military and so was the ship that carried it." She was speaking very quickly, like someone who was on to a conspiracy and afraid of being silenced before they got to what was important. "And when I've spoken to the actual foot soldiers in the field they keep telling me strange things about who they're chasing. I know there's something going on that people ought to know about."
"And why does this bring you to me, of all reasons?" Ragland was unerringly patient and quiet, his poise impeccable.
"You're the only doctor they've allowed to live, Ragland. Why is that?" She never wavered from her eye contact with him, and he made to speak, but then closed his lips with a sigh through his nose.
"Foster, I'm afraid you're barking up the wrong tree. I've been hiding."
"And yet reports, that I wasn't meant to see mind you, show they've been sending you bodies to study in your morgue."
"You know more than is safe for you to know, miss," Ragland warned, and Alex shifted in the dark not out of discomfort, but out of the want to rip Foster's pretty little head open and find out what she knew. When she opened her mouth to reply, Ragland held up a quieting hand. "Look, all I'm saying is that you need to be careful. You're asking me to share information with you that could jeopardize everything I'm doing. I can't do that."
"So then it's true. You are with them." She stated, shaking her head.
"I'm not sure what you mean by them, Foster," Ragland's voice held a warning lilt to it.
"I mean whatever secret organization manufactured this entire situation with Manhattan. Ragland, they're toying with people's lives!" Foster looked ready to stand and begin shouting, but she maintained an edge of control that kept her in her seat.
"I won't deny what you know, Foster, but I'm most certainly not with anyone. I'm merely attempting to understand what's been unleashed and how to fix it. Pointing a finger, right now, won't save anyone." As Ragland spoke, Foster's head shook from side to side in disbelief, and Alex was sure he could see her blue eyes tearing up just ever so slightly. It was more obvious when she drew in a deep breath and sniffled as she did so, and then she nodded once.
"I know… I just. I don't know anything else I can do but seek out what can be known and do everything I can to ensure it doesn't get covered up." She dragged a finger below her eyes for a moment, keeping her mascara from running. In the dark, leaning against the wall, Alex's eyes slit into a speculative glare. Ragland sighed and cast his gaze down to his folded hands.
"Foster, I'm afraid that I can't let you leave here," he said softly, and looked back up at her. She tilted her head, unsure if he was being entirely serious.
"Why not?"
"You can blame your new friend over there," Alex growled, nodding toward Eric. Replacing his hood, he slowly angled toward the balcony sliding door. "You know where we are, you already know too much. Consider yourself lucky Ragland's a wimp." His voice was barely distinguishable underneath the growling tones as he made toward the door and stepped out, shutting it behind him. Ragland didn't comment on the insult, and didn't even appear offended.
"I'm sorry. I really wish that one of them had called me before they brought you here." He shook his head, and behind him in their make shift kitchen, Eric tossed back his drink and attempted to appear nonchalant.
"Well…," she started, her jaw dropping and glancing between Eric, the sliding glass door, and Ragland with disbelief falling past her lips with two indignant gasps. "What am I supposed to do then?" Now she was frustrated, tossing her arms and directing a glare at Ragland.
"You can hack, can't you?" Suddenly the sliding glass door was open, and Mercer was peeking his head in, his expression blank.
"What makes you say that?" Her voice was carefully monotone.
"You found reports that aren't in paper form," he said simply.
"Yes, I can hack. I hacked Gentek, happy?"
"Very," Blacklight drawled with a wicked grin as he stepped halfway into the space. "Ragland, get her to look up that information we needed." Ragland shifted his watchful gaze from the virus back to Foster, who looked at him just then with wide eyes.
"You'll have to take her somewhere else, Alex," Eric said.
"What?" Foster yelled from her seat, and all three men turned to look at her. "What! Wait… WHAT?"
"What?" Ragland asked, and for a moment all was silent until Eric muttered 'whoops'.
"But you're dead," she spat out, and Mercer stared at her.
"Here I thought you were already on to me," he smirked, before swallowing and attempting to get back to what he wanted.
"No… Oh lord, I thought you were on their… God, Ragland what the hell are you doing?" She stood, shaking her hands and brushing her hair nervously behind her ears as she stared down at Ragland.
"Yeah, get the fuck over it. I'm taking you to a different location and you're going to find information on Blacklight." Alex snarled.
"No, I'm not going anywhere with you," she pointed an accusing finger at Alex, and he blanched at it.
"Foster!" Ragland stood. "I told you we're attempting to find a solution! Now you're either a part of that solution, or you're history. There's not a lot I can do if he wants to end your life." He turned toward Alex and shot him a glare.
"Watch yourself," he shot at Mercer, and the virus tilted his head in slight confusion.
"I don't understand," she raised her hands to her face to brace herself for a moment. "I just, let me understand, okay?" Everything about her was far more genuine now than it had been. Having one's life threatened tended to have that effect.
"Why do you want information on… Blacklight?" She asked, and when Alex's face screwed into an angry scowl she raised a hand in a halting gesture. "Please, that's all I want to know."
Ragland spoke up. "We want to know what the original intentions of creating the disease were. We know that Redlight and its variations are largely useless and inaccessible, but we might have a way to use Blacklight."
When Foster tilted her head, Ragland shook his and waved her into silence. "Foster, it's best if you just follow Alex." She looked as though there were a million more questions she wanted to ask, but when her blue eyes flittered toward Alex and his deadly expression, she remembered that she'd only ask just that one. So she dropped a shaky sigh from her lips and clutched her arms about herself protectively.
"Alright," she whispered, dropping her eyes to the ground.
