Part 14: The Other Half
April 2007 - London

1 : Isabel

The hotel room was luxurious to the last detail. If someone had told Isabel four years ago that making a deal with Dave would lead to this, she would have agreed to it a whole lot faster. If only it didn't have so many strings attached.

"You—you look gorgeous," Jesse said, hugging her from behind. In her hands, Isabel held her international law diploma. Her fake international law diploma, to be exact. She'd gone to no university, attended no tests, midterms, or even one single class. She loathed that diploma with a vengeance.

Going out to celebrate her fake graduation made her feel like such a liar.

Jesse sensed her change of mood. He could always tell when she was feeling down.

"Look, I say you're ready. No one has ever studied as hard as you did. I trained you well; Dave's other lawyers trained you well. Susseth said you know the law better than she does, and that's saying something."

"I know, I know..." she whispered, still with half a mind to burn the piece of paper she held in her hands. "It just—It just seems so unfair..." she said, tears stuck in her throat.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I'm sure Dave can get you a private test at Harvard so you can see you know everything there is to know. I'm that confident in you. Plus, do you think Susseth would let any inexperienced pretty face take over the tasks she's assigning to you? Look, this paper you hold here? It only states that you know what you know, and that's real."

She stared at it. Isabel Amanda Evans. Was Isabel even real? What about Vilandra? What about the pieces of paper she had held while being Antar's princess? Were they more real than the paper she was holding now?

"Taking an actual test would make you feel better, wouldn't it?" Jesse said after a second, realizing that might be exactly what she needed.

She sighed. She didn't really know.

"Maybe is not just—not just this fake diploma. Maybe it's what it represents. I only went to college for a year. This—this represents everything we lost. The college years, the actual experiences a twenty-year-old should have. Growing up, moving out, meeting new friends. All we have is a collection of fake papers."

"Hey, hey... I'm here. I'm real. The knowledge you have, that's real, too. Just because some Harvard or some other big honcho didn't sign it for real, doesn't mean you don't deserve it."

She turned to look at him, not knowing what to say. She'd been having flashbacks all week long. Sooner rather than later, she would be sucked into one of those memory scenes she dreaded so much. And what would she see?

She wouldn't even be able to tell him. She might try to dreamwalk Max and ask him for something, anything, really, just an excuse to see her brother. To know that he was well and alive. She might try that, yeah, but the man in front of her would not be the one comforting her in her darkest hours. No one would ever chase away her demons.

"Jesse..." she said, wondering if now was the right moment. If now was the moment where she would come clean, explain about Vilandra, about her visions, about memories of a place so long ago yet so close to her heart. The real events might have occurred eons ago, but when she was coming back from one of those flashbacks, they would feel like yesterday.

"Honey, everything will be okay," he assured her, smiling that grin of his that melted her heart. How could she take that away? How could she ask him to deal with something no one could help her with?

"Yes, yes you're right. I'm being an idiot. Maybe I didn't go to the fancy school, but I sure can beat any lawyer they can throw at me," she said with fake enthusiasm. Because he wanted to believe it, Jesse didn't question her lie.

"Okay, I've made the reservations, so we'll be going in about five minutes. I just need to..." he kept talking, walking to the bathroom. Whatever else he said, she didn't get to hear it.

Instead, it was the palace walls that met Vilandra's eyes. The hall was empty, and she was entering her rooms. The bright sky met her on the open doors of her balcony, along with someone else. Ava.

"I did promise to swing by with all the details," Ava said with the accent that all Northerns had. Vilandra found it endearing.

"You and my brother are going at it a bit fast, don't you think?" Vilandra asked, walking to her. The city glistered silver and blue, the colors her brother preferred. It was at her feet, just like she liked it.

"Hey, I'm not the one planning a thing. He just got into his head he wanted this marriage to happen as soon as it could. And once he gets a plan in his head—"

"—He'll see it through. Doesn't it scare you, even a bit? That he's such a—"

"Planner?" Ava elaborated.

"Predictable is more likely. Zan never does anything unexpected. I was actually surprised he asked you out on a second date."

Ava smiled, the memory obviously a fond one. "He did invite our representatives for talks. You know things have been a little on the rough side in my hometown."

"You Northerns are always so rough on everything," Vilandra said with a smile. "I wouldn't mind looking at one of your escorts. You seem to know how to grow them."

Ava's eyes sparkled with an idea.

"There are other people who would love to come to the Palace and talk to you. Maybe I can arrange something? I'm sure I can find a suitable candidate to have a fun evening with…"

Vilandra smiled at that, already liking the idea. Somewhere, at the back of her mind, she felt horror building. She shouldn't meet this man. She couldn't meet this man. It wasn't Vilandra who looked down at Ava, it was Isabel. And just as she realized what was about to happen once Khivar gained access to Vilandra's good graces, the memory vanished.

"—ready to go," Jesse said somewhere by the room's door. She wanted to go to the bathroom and throw up. It wasn't just the memory, but also the disorientation of breaking through the flash that made her physically ill.

"Isabel?" Jesse asked, coming to where she was. "You look pale. Maybe we should stay here," he said with concern. He knew she never got sick, at least that much he was sure of. She wanted to tell him that everything was all right, she really did, but the words wouldn't come. Tears escaped her eyes. Tears for the betrayal that awaited a naïve princess long ago in the memories locked inside her. Tears for the guilt she carried, hoping someday Zan might forgive her. Tears because she wasn't being honest with Jesse.

"Hey… hey…" he soothed her, hugging her. "We don't need to celebrate, don't worry."

"You deserve better…" she whispered, hugging him tight.

"I'm the luckiest man alive," he said with a firm tone. Somewhere, inside her, she felt warmth. Warmth wrapping itself around her heart. Warmth filling every corner of her lonely soul. Lovely, caressing, warmth. Jesse's eyes opened a second later. "Are you—are you doing—something?" he asked hesitantly.

"I—no," she whispered back. But the more she felt it, the more she wanted it. "What are you feeling?" she asked eagerly, a smile trying to form on her lips.

"Like—like I feel you. I mean, it sounds crazy, it is crazy, I just don't have any other word to describe it to you."

She laughed delighted, the tears forgotten. "I think we have a connection," she said, feeding the feeling in her heart more. This was Jesse's love. So warm, so hers.

"Wait, like—what Max and Liz have?" Jesse asked, frowning. Isabel nodded, the grin in her lips impossible to wipe out. Jesse's matching grin came a second after. "This we gotta celebrate!"

And just like, Vilandra was forgotten. At least for that night.

2 : Jake
May 2007 - Paris

The phone rang for the third time in a row. Jake ignored it. On his other phone he had a very cheerful Sybelle telling him the story of her life. Or rather, the story of last weekend.

Dear ole Sybelle, who was at most polite with him when they were together, sounded like a six year-old on Christmas day. She was in love, she said, could he be-lieve that?

Oh, he could. Girls who were nineteen-years-old should be in love, if for nothing else but to celebrate they were young and carefree. Girls should also not have a spoiling godfather like Dave, because all he ever did was to, well, to spoil.

Jake wondered how Dave was going to take it. This was Sybelle's eighth boyfriend since she had started dating four years ago, but none of them had had her squealing on the phone—to Jake of all people. The problem was, this handsome young man, might be handsome but certainly not young.

Dave had very few vulnerabilities, and Sybelle was one of them.

She was one of Dave's best kept secrets. As far as Jake knew, she wasn't even in the Level Six codes, but something must have tied her to Dave. A picture here, a call there. It was inevitable. He made a point of spending time with her at least one week a year, usually taking her to some exotic location. It was always risky, and always made Ray twitch.

Sybelle wanted to impress her godfather with her athletic skills, so she would usually pick an extreme sport in the vein of parachuting and bungee jumping. Dave always declined, of course. She said he was too old. He said he agreed.

It was always an odd thing to see. Dave, so preoccupied with his grand schemes for the world, came down to the level of a nineteen-year-old and actually understood her. She embodied what he never got: freedom. The kind of freedom that came without fear, without looking over one's shoulder. She was free. And she also knew she was free because of him.

She had been only six when he had taken her out of her world. An orphan, a thief, and a girl. All a very bad combination for a six-year old lost in some little dusty town. She knew she wouldn't have had the life she now had without this man's care. And in Dave she not only saw a friend, but also a savior. Nothing was too farfetched, too dangerous for him. He was never stern—he never could be with her—and that amused Jake to no end.

Poor Dave, designing motorcycles and promising to sign her up for a trip into space some day in the future, when it wouldn't raise too many questions.

"And I want him to meet Dave," she was saying, after nine uninterrupted minutes of describing Mister Wonderful Boyfriend.

"I'm not sure Sybelle, he's never met any of the other guys..." No, he just have them followed and investigated, just in case he needs you to understand they are not good for you. "What's different this time?"

"I know he hasn't. But this one is so worldly. They're so alike," she whispered, all excitement behind those words.

"Worldly, uh? Has he traveled farther and further than you have?"

"Of course not," she said with mock indignity. "Well, maybe a little... I don't know. We haven't gotten to that part yet. But I told him about my wonderful godfather who has been in more parts in the world that I can remember, so he said he sounded interesting."

Jake nodded, going to the fridge. His cell phone announced he had another incoming call, but he kept listening to Sybelle instead.

"A lot of people would find your godfather interesting," he said, finding it interesting himself to be talking to Dave's secretive goddaughter.

"I know! And he's very insistent about it. He says he wants to brag about what he's seen with the man in front. And well, I know Dave listens to you..."

Ah... so I'm just a messenger here...

"Yes, he does. He also listens to Susseth, and she's not letting him out of her sight for a few months. You know he schedules his meetings with you way ahead."

"Yes, yes... I just—well... Things are always so much more dynamic when Dave's here , and… Jake, he might be the one, you know?" she whispered, maybe afraid that he would laugh at her.

Jake nodded as if she could see him. And then paused. "Wait... is he really insisting on meeting Dave, or are you just wanting bragging rights?"

She paused, maybe thinking the same thing Jake was thinking. "Well, I have been bragging about Dave quite a bit. It's hard to keep him secret when all the best parts of my life are linked to him. It's only natural that John's insisting now."

Secret being the imperative word, Jake thought. That someone might use Sybelle to get Dave was not really probable, but if Sybelle was spilling the beans here and there…

"Okay, girl, this is what we're going to do," Jake said, trying to still sound casual, while his blood had chilled. "You're going to tell me where exactly you are, what his full name is, and I'll have Susseth rescheduling for Dave and you and Mr. Nice Guy. It might not be tomorrow, but I'm sure you'll be seeing Dave by next week."

She squealed so loud in his ear, he had to take the phone away, a slight ringing persistent in his ear. What she didn't realize was that a week was all the time Dave needed to check this guy out, and declare him safe.

Or take him out of the picture indefinitely.

3 : Kyle
June 2007 - Berlin

It was a beautiful day. Sunshine and green grass all around, with brick buildings and wooden benches scattered all around campus. People younger and older than himself walked all around, talking on a cellphone or to one another. All college girls looked fantastic. And Kyle Valenti had no idea what the hell he was doing here.

Twelve hours ago, Ray had called them about a possible security breach. He'd given out a story of a girl who needed to be rescued. Ray needed someone on short notice who wouldn't stand out on a college campus. The important part was that Dave would owe that person a favor.

It also stood to reason that Dave would want someone with superpowers if the girl meant that much to him, not that he knew that two of the human elements of this team had a psychic touch. Whatever the reason, this was the first time they were out in a mission where something could happen, with a real follower and a followee. Kyle hadn't been shot at in so long that the idea gave him the chills.

Nothing's going to happen, he told himself for the millionth time. Just blending in, nothing to see here, folks.

The plan seemed simple enough: They were picking up the girl somewhere on this campus. She was being followed, she knew she was being followed, and they needed to know who the follower was. Once they made contact, they would accompany her to the subterranean parking lot, and get her out in a van. No drama, no shotguns. Just a nice, easy rescue mission.

Her picture wasn't recent, Ray had told them, the smile of a fifteen-year old on a yacht somewhere all Kyle clearly remembered. Dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin. She was twenty now, and she would recognize them. He also said that once she had made contact, they would know it was her. "She's... well, she's one of a kind," Ray had said simply.

Now, standing in the middle of the campus, everyone seemed to be one of a kind. This was one of those Universities where apparently only the bright and the weird were let in, usually in the form of geeks, nerds, and no jocks. Though apparently, bright and weird girls were also very nice to look at.

Either way, they all looked good-weird. It was either in the big glasses, the big hair, the big backpack... Each and every one of them looked as if they belonged to a mad scientist lab, or NASA. Or some movie where scientists were hot. Yeah, you could so be there... he said, eying a tall brunet who smiled at him from a far.

Unique was starting to seem highly normal around here. Weird girl... Weird girl... he kept chanting as minutes went by.

His group had gone their separate ways. Although the college wasn't big, it did have three main entrances. Ray was waiting in the van. They would take Mystery Girl to him, and never see her again.

A sound came down the street. A purr, really, something that sounded like a cat making happy sounds on one's chest. It was the purring of a motorcycle. He would recognize it anywhere. He turned to look at the bike with the wonderful sound. And there it was: the most detailed lines, the best curves. The light reflected from the chrome parts, the silver and blue and black coming together in the most perfect machine on two wheels ever made.

He was mesmerized. The sound that motor made was like music to his engineer's ears. It had the right balance, the right color, the right size. Every single part of it was glorious. But beyond all that, this was not the first time he'd seen this bike. He would never forget something like this. He'd seen it four years ago, in Dave's compound. This had been a gift from Dave.

The driver stopped six feet in front of him, her helmet still on. She was dressed all in black, from her boots to her polarized helmet, which made it difficult for him to tell what she was looking at. What he could tell was that the bike was forgotten once she got off it, and walked towards him.

Unique.

Oh God, please tell me that woman is the woman I'm supposed to take. Wasn't she a girl? A voice whispered in the side of his ear. He had no idea why Ray or Dave would consider her a girl, but this goddess walking towards him was nothing short of a miracle. And by God, was he glad he was not a boy anymore, either.

She took her helmet off, her long hair cascading behind her in slow motion. "I think I'm supposed to take you for a ride..." she said.

For one glorious second he thought she was talking about something else.

Her eyes were red. Her nose puffy. She'd been crying her heart out for possibly the past twelve hours and it showed. Kyle kicked himself for not noticing that the instant he'd seen her face. She was not wearing any makeup—that had been washed half a day ago—and she was certainly not looking like some happy spy who was doing her job, bringing the bad guy here.

"You do work for—for Dave, right?" she asked, uncertain, her voice slightly breaking at mentioning Dave.

More like doing him a favor, actually, he thought, getting closer. He nodded in response, words failing miserably in his own mind. How do you talk to an angel lyrics got stuck in his head.

"Yeah," Kyle finally found his voice. "We—we're supposed to talk a little, and then I'll—I'll take you to Ray…"

She looked so lost, so fragile. She was suffering, and this was making her suffer even more. What had Dave done to her?

They were facing each other now, even if she was too miserable to care.

"I'll kill him," he whispered, meaning it. The next time he saw Dave, he would make the bastard pay. She slightly smiled at that.

"That's what Dave said…" fresh tears started to threaten to fall, and Kyle panicked. He did what any sensitive guy would do: he hugged her, all the while thinking if there must be two Daves, because otherwise, they were thinking about the same person doing the exact opposite thing.

She cried a bit, hugged him a little bit more. Two minutes later, when her sobs completely subsided, she whispered, "You're a good actor."

"What?" he asked, bewildered. "I'm not—I—I mean, I'm not—"

She dried her tears with the back of her hand, and smiled at him, more to convince herself that she was okay than anyone else.

"I think we should be going to Ray now," she said, nodding to emphasize her words. Kyle nodded a second later, unsure of how to tell her he wasn't faking this. That he was not a goddamn actor. She walked back to her bike, and handed him a black helmet.

"You do know I—I genuinely care about your safety, right? That you get home safe." Their eyes met, and she gave him a different kind of smile this time. A dark one.

"Oh, I know… Everyone cares what happens to me. That's the price to pay when you're Dave's daughter."

Kyle's heart froze for a second. She had to be kidding, he so desperately hoped. Because no matter who her father was, he was already falling in love with her.

AN: Hey there! I'd love to hear from you guys if you're still enjoying the story :)