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by

Eric Metcalf

Mind Mistress winced as Crimson Knight’s punch sent the leather-jacketed tough with the fiery eyes flying backwards. The young man’s eye beams had barely scorched the dark red armor, while the amplified punch had probably broken the kid’s jaw. Mind Mistress shook her head. The Guardians had been called in to deal with this gang of young mutants who were trying to terrorize a street festival in Boston. While they could frighten normals, their powers weren’t up to the scale of the Guardians.

"Mindstar, look out," Powergirl yelled. Mind Mistress swung around to see another of the young mutants, a rail-thin girl with white hair and long, razor-sharp claws, diving at Mindstar’s back. Powergirl was quicker, grabbing the girl’s white mane and swinging her over onto her back, slamming her to the asphalt heavily.

"Nobody messes with my man," Powergirl sneered as she slapped her hands together as if knocking dirt off of them.

Crimson Knight rounded on Mind Mistress. "What were you doing?" he yelled. "Your job is to watch our backs, not be making goo-goo eyes at someone or daydreaming."

Mind Mistress was too stunned to reply. She might have expected something like that from Techno or Strongarm, but it cut deeply coming from Jake. She tried to say something in her defense, but she just stammered.

"Crimson Knight, stand down," Mindstar barked, shutting down the scene before the bystanders could get interested. "All’s well that ends well. Come on, let’s get back to base. The police can hold them now that they’re calmed down."

As they walked back to the Protector One, a news crew got close enough to yell a question. "Mindstar, is this going to impact your wedding plans?"

Mindstar shook his head. "If I put the wedding off every time something comes up, we’d never get married," he said, trying to be funny and almost succeeding.

Mike sat down heavily in one of the recliners in the base’s den. He was dressed in loose sweats, his hair still damp from the shower he’d taken as soon as they’d come back. Terry and Melissa were already here, sitting on the couch with a pile of catalogs on the coffee table in front of them. Mike didn’t have to look to know what the catalogs were about, nor did he have to read their minds. These two had gotten very predictable in the last few days.

"Ooh, those invitations look so cute," Melissa said, pointing at something in one of the catalogs. Mike picked up today’s newspaper from the near end of the table, trying to stay inconspicuous.

"Congress To Be Recessed For Wedding," was the main headline. Mike groaned as he read the article. The last thing he wanted was the National Cathedral awash in Congressional staffers and hangers-on, and to be wished well by a few hundred people who, mostly, hated him because he didn’t live in their district and, thus, they couldn’t claim his exploits as their own.

"I’m not sure," Terry said in response to Melissa. "Mike, what do you think?" She pushed a catalog at him, pointing to a particular invitation design on a page with six others.

Mike couldn’t see any significant difference between them, other than the font used in the lettering and the design around the edges. "I don’t care, whatever you want," he replied.

Only a quick telekinetic push saved him from the couch cushion that Melissa flung at him. "Ooh, you men," she swore. "This is your wedding too, you know."

Mike shrugged. "I realize that, but invitations aren’t something that I have a real opinion on, so I want to let Terry do what she wants. I thought you women always wanted your own way."

Terry shook her head as Melissa bounced up off of the couch, her face red with rage. "You, oooh, you and Ray are just alike. You don’t care about this at all, and you’re trying to cover up for the fact that you’re just a lazy slob by pushing all of the work off of poor Terry."

"Settle down, Melissa," Terry said. "If you go off again, Mike will vanish and I’ll never get any help out of him, and you’ll be too busy badmouthing him to help me." Melissa sniffed at Mike, but she sat down quietly.

Mike decided to avoid the issue for the moment by turning on the television. CNN came on as the picture came up, showing the front of a building with a long line of men in suits standing on the front steps. Wolf Blitzer’s furry mien was front and center. "This has been the scene all day at the Congressional Post Office, as staffers from every Congressional office hurry to post their RSVPs for the wedding of Mindstar and Powergirl, the two original Guardians. All of Washington has been abuzz over this since the announcement a few days ago, and official invitations were no sooner delivered than staffers were hurrying to get their responses in the mail first.

"In fact, a few members even put in a personal appearance. Senator Kay Bailey Hutchison, for example, came herself to mail her reply." The picture cut to a shot of the blonde Texas Senator. "After all the Guardians did for Dallas in their early days," she said, smiling that smile all politicians perfect, "I couldn’t miss this opportunity to wish them well on such a happy day for them and for all of Texas, even if they have moved to the East coast now."

Mike clicked off the television. "Looks like Carpenter took care of your invitation problem. With all of Congress and their guests in attendance, we won’t have room for anyone else."

Before Melissa could go off again, Terry interrupted her. "Mike, have you seen Lindsey? She usually comes down here to watch tv soon after we get back, but she hasn’t come down. I’m worried that Jake snapping at her may have cut her pretty deep."

Mike nodded, as much in agreement with her as eagerness to get away. "You’re right. She’s really sensitive if he criticizes her at all. I know they got together when I recruited her, but he’s been pretty distant to her since." He got up.

"Are you sure this isn’t women’s work?" Melissa said coyly.

Mike shook his head. "No," he said in her mind, "this is telepath’s work, and the only female telepath is the one who’s hurting." He strode over to the steps before Melissa got the shocked look off of her face. She hadn’t realized that he would use his telepathy on the team.

As Mike came to the top of the stairs, he saw Jake coming towards him, wearing the camouflage tank top and pants he always worked out in. "Jake, got a minute?" he asked.

Jake winced as if struck. "Ah, yeah, I guess," he said. He was obviously hoping to avoid this confrontation, but he’d taken too long working up his courage to come out at all.

Mike led Jake into his office, sat down, and gestured for Jake to take the other chair. Jake sat down at attention, as if his commanding officer were dressing him down. "Now, Mister Pryor," Mike said, "do you know why I’ve called you in?"

"Yes sir," Jake answered. "I was out of line in criticizing Mind Mistress as harshly as I did in the field this morning."

"Only partly correct," Mike replied. "I am also concerned that you are leading Lindsey on."

Jake looked blank. "Leading her on?"

Mike nodded. "Yes. Or, more precisely, leading her to believe that you have feelings for her when you do not."

Jake scowled. "I’ve never,"

"She believes you have," Mike interrupted. "And I know that you two were intimate while I was laid up right after we rescued her. And no, I didn’t read your mind. I didn’t have to."

Jake scowled more deeply. He had almost forgotten about that, because he had wanted to. "What are your orders?"

Mike kept his face composed. "I want you to sort this out for yourself, and then I am ordering you to find Lindsey and speak to her. I need you two ready to work, but I will have this resolved."

Jake stood up sharply, coming to attention. "Sir, yes, sir," he barked.

"Dismissed," Mike said. Jake wheeled and strode out of the office, his back ramrod straight. Mike thought of commenting about the rod Jake appeared to have sat on, but he held back. He knew this stiffness was Jake’s way of dealing with emotional conflict. He just hoped that Jake could loosen up before he went to talk with Lindsey. This front was a thin crust, and any feelings he did have for Lindsey would shatter that crust if he wasn’t careful.

Jake threw a vicious left jab-right hook combo into the heavy bag, his fists slamming into the canvas as he pushed his emotions into fuel for his body. Sweat dripped down and stung in his eyes. At least, he told himself that the stinging in his eyes was sweat. If he was honest with himself, it probably wasn’t.

Rage at Mike for jumping on him was fading away as he boxed. Mike had to be concerned about all of his team, and if Jake had really hurt Lindsey, then that was a problem. While Jake wanted to believe that Lindsey wasn’t a major part of the team, he’d seen too much over the past weeks to believe that. She may not be a combat monster, but she was invaluable in coordinating the team and in keeping some of the team at peak condition. As much as he tried, he couldn’t make this crew into soldiers. They were something different, and he didn’t always know how to get the best out of them. Lindsey did, but how?

Love. No matter how he tried to get around it, that word was still there. They fought for each other. No matter how he wanted to ignore it, he saw how much the others cared for each other. They’d paired off, pretty much, but there was still the occasional glance and wink among the four old-timers, and Lindsey was very close to Melissa. So that was the glue that held the unit together.

That still didn’t solve his problem. Lindsey thought they were close, but he was still too military. Fraternization was a big no-no in the military, and he saw Lindsey as his subordinate. They had been close, once.

The memories of that day were still as vivid now as they were that day. The heat of the day, him taking off his helmet, the sight of her tied-off shirt coming off, the sensations of their love-making. Jake was no stranger to the pleasures of a woman, but Lindsey had taken him to a new plateau. He still hadn’t understood why that had been so special, or why he’d gone along in the first place. He wasn’t weak, he knew that, but something had overrun all of his defenses.

Jake stopped as a light came on in his mind. Of course, she was a telepath, and Mike mentioned that she was something of a nympho. She’d probably gotten inside his mind and drawn him to her, made him have sex with her. If that was the case, then he was under no obligation to her. He couldn’t be sure, but he had to know. Shedding the boxing gloves, he stormed upstairs without even unwrapping his hands.

Jake knocked sharply on Lindsey’s door. "Who, who is it?" her voice came from inside, weak enough to break on that simple question.

Jake’s heart sank into his shoes. Something in her voice undercut all of his anger at being manipulated, replacing it with an instinctive need to help, comfort, and protect a woman in pain. "It’s Jake," he replied, his voice softer than he wanted. He needs to be strong now, to confront her with her manipulation, but he can’t keep the steel in his voice.

"Come on in," she says weakly, opening the door. Jake’s heart sinks deeper as he sees the tracks on her face from tears, tears that she hasn’t even had time to wipe away.

Lindsey turned, trying not to break down as she saw Jake, not in his hard Crimson Knight armor, but as a man, his hands wrapped in tape and his hair matted with sweat. She remembered his scent distinctly from their tryst, remembered how good it felt to take him inside her. She desperately wanted to do that now, to take him and hold him and let him tell her that he was sorry and everything would be all right. She sat down on the bed, holding her breath as she turned around, willing herself not to start babbling, to let him say what he’d come in here to say. His conflicting emotions were written on his face, but she refrained from contacting his mind. If she made contact now, she wasn’t sure she could stop before she controlled him, and she couldn’t do that.

He sat down heavily on the chair, facing her. "Lindsey, I," he stammered then slowed down and started again. "I’m sorry for jumping on you like that."

She smiled. "Thanks, but that’s not what you had such a hard time saying, is it?"

He shook his head. "No, its not. I need to ask you a question. When we were, together, before, did you use your telepathy on me, to make me love you?"

Lindsey sighed. She knew it would come down to this. This secret kept Jake from trusting her. She wanted to lie, wanted things to just go away, but they wouldn’t. She’d just been looking to her own pleasure at the moment, and now it was going to cost her. Fresh tears welling in her eyes, she nodded. "Y, yes," she says. "I wanted you, and you were too uptight. You were attracted to me anyway, I just helped that along."

She was expecting him to get mad, but the hurt look on his face was more devastating than any rage. "Why?"

Here goes, she thought. She’d been working on this speech ever since she got back. She knew that staying in her room would force him to come to her. "You were too inhibited. You wanted me; I could see that, and I could read it in your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to just relax and let it happen. So I helped it along. I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to; I just lowered your inhibitions a little and let your more adventurous side take over. Honestly, that’s all I did."

Jake sat back. He wanted to be angry, he really did, but he couldn’t muster the rage. What she said had clicked with what he thought about earlier. She wasn’t a soldier in his command; she was a friend. No, he thought, she was his lover. Somehow, he used that word a lot more freely in his mind now than he would have this morning. Something had changed in his mind, something fundamental.

"Are, are you mad at me?" she asked quietly.

He looked up and smiled. "One last question. Have you used your telepathy on me since I walked in?"

She shook her head. "No, I haven’t. The thought occurred to me, but controlling you that day is why we’re here now. I’m not going to take that easy way out this time. That was just about sex; this is about something more."

He nodded. "You’re right. Before I came up here, I was doing some hard thinking, about this team and why it works the way it does. I realized that discipline isn’t what keeps you together; it’s love. You care for each other, and that’s why you fight for each other. Trying to make you into soldiers isn’t going to work; you’re too different. So I realized that I was the one who needed to change, to lighten up some and let things happen more. And to let myself get back in love with you."

Lindsey jumped off of the bed and into his arms. "Jake, that’s wonderful. I knew you’d see the light." As she held him, she looked up with a languid smile. "You know, about what I just said, just because this isn’t just about sex doesn’t mean."

He smiled back at her and gently brushed the tears from her cheeks. "I smell like a gym and you look like hell. But," he bent down and kissed her, "whatever works."

The sun was fading into the west as Mindstar and Powergirl came downstairs in full uniform. Most of the team was sitting around in the living room watching the evening news and fighting over the remote. Mindstar cleared his throat to get their attention. "Okay, team, Powergirl and I have to head out, we’ve got to be on Larry King tonight. Since we’ll be out of communications, Crimson Knight is in charge until we get back. See any night owls later." With a wave, they went out the front door.

"Great," Kat muttered. "He’s been hiding all day, so I’ll bet he’s got something really evil cooked up for us now."

"Yeah," Melissa said, "Mike got after him about jumping on Lindsey, so he’s going to take it out on us again."

"I’m not so sure," Rich said. "I passed by Lindsey’s room earlier, and, well,"

Before Rich could stammer out anything else, Jake and Lindsey came down the stairs. Jake was dressed in a battered West Point sweatsuit, with Lindsey just wearing one of Jake’s other sweatshirts. The shirt was long enough to preserve most of her modesty, but just barely. Before anyone had a chance to gasp at their appearance, Jake spoke up. "Guys, it has been brought to my attention that I’ve been a real pain in the ass for a while. So, to make it up, I’m giving all of you the night off. All of the cars are fair game, but no taking the jets out joyriding. Other than that, have fun and I’ll see you in the morning." He led Lindsey back upstairs, enjoying the sight of Kat’s jaw on the floor and Melissa’s almost as far.

"He must have just gotten laid," Kat concluded. "Nothing else could have produced that."

"I’m not arguing," Melissa said. "Come on, let’s get out of here before he changes his mind."

As night fell over Detroit, the city traffic shifted from the business district out towards the restaurants and nightclubs as it did every night. Few businesses remained lit downtown. One of these was Motor City Bank, trying to stay afloat by offering all night banking. As the expenses piled up and the new money didn’t roll in, the board of directors was considering terminating the practice. For now, however, the lights were still on.

A man in a dark business suit walked up to the bank carrying a briefcase. Dark eyes gleamed over a Roman nose and pencil thin mustache. He looked harmless as he walked in, just a businessman coming to transact some business. The three night-shift cashiers sat up instantly. Here was an end to their boredom, at least for the moment.

He strode up to the nearest cashier and looked into her eyes. The woman was watching him closely and made eye contact easily, just as she had been trained. However, her training hadn’t prepared her for the depths of this man’s eyes. She felt them pulling her mind into them, into their dark depths.

"How may I help you, sir?" she said, her voice bright and cheerful, just as she had been taught.

"You may start by giving me all of the money in your cash box," he said in a deep voice.

"Yes, sir," she answered, her hands moving automatically to unlock the cash drawer and begin pulling out bills.

The other cashiers looked at each other nervously. They could see their friend piling out cash onto the counter, but the man hadn’t passed her a check or a withdrawal slip. This was highly irregular.

"Something’s wrong," one whispered.

The other nodded. She reached down and kicked a button below the counter, triggering the silent alarm to the police. Hopefully they would get her before the man walked out.

The man took all of the cash from the first cashier, put it in his briefcase, and walked down to the second cashier. She looked up at him, scowling. It made no difference once his eyes found hers. Soon, she too was counting out her cash onto the counter.

Jake sat on the couch, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt. Lindsey was in his lap, just wearing a pair of bike shorts. She snuggled against him, "for warmth," she said. Jake smiled. She wouldn’t give up, not after she’d taken him for all he was worth.

"I’m sure glad we got that sorted out," Lindsey said. "You sure did loosen up."

Jake chuckled as she rubbed against his chest. "Yeah, well, you loosened part of me up all right. I’m not sure that’ll ever be tight again."

Lindsey laughed with him. "Oh, you’ll be all right in the morning, old man." She snuggled closer. "We must look like we were the ones getting married."

Jake laughed at that. "Yeah, we have been acting like a couple of newlyweds this afternoon. Still, I am glad we got that sorted out. Hopefully, that’ll drop the tension level around here a few notches."

Lindsey laughed, but the hooting of the alert signal cut off her reply. "Damn," Jake swore. "I hope this is some lightweight."

"It better be," Lindsey said. "The last thing I need right now is a fight, or to try and get into that costume."

"You’d better work on the costume part," Jake said as he ran to the conference room. "Carpenter doesn’t trip the alarms if he just wants a chat."

Inside the conference room, Jake sat at the head chair and pressed one of the buttons in front of him. The opposite wall slid up, revealing a large view screen. The screen flared, then Carpenter’s image resolved. "Jake, we’ve got a problem. Where’s the rest of the team?"

"Mind Mistress is upstairs. The rest are occupied. My responsibility."

"Your call. Besides, this one shouldn’t be too hard. Call came in from Detroit. They've got a bank holdup in progress, with hostages. Manager claims some guy waltzed in and started going around to the cashiers, asking for their money, and they gave it to him. One must have tripped the silent alarm, because the police were there before he could split. He claims he has a bomb, but I don’t buy it. He refuses to negotiate over the phone, wants to speak to a negotiator face to face. That stinks, and I’ve told Detroit PD to refuse that one until I send somebody. That’ll be you and Mind Mistress."

Jake nodded. One mentalist shouldn’t be too hard. "Protector One’s at ready five. We’ll be in the air in five minutes."

"Then I won’t keep you. Good luck."

Jake cut the connection. Lindsey came running in, still pulling on her top. "I heard," she said. "A mentalist?"

Jake nodded. "Yeah. Finish dressing in the jet. Detroit’s not exactly a short hop."

Over an hour later, Crimson Knight descended to the police line outside the Motor City Bank with Mind Mistress secure in his arms. He could see the line of police cars blocking off the bank and the street above and below the bank itself. A crowd had gathered outside the line, with the glaring lights and popping flashbulbs that meant reporters. Jake could have gone a year without seeing that, but he also knew it was unavoidable. Any hostage situation attracted a crowd, and one with a metahuman at the center would attract an even larger gathering.

Crimson Knight dropped straight down to land just behind the center police car. A gray-haired, uniformed officer shook his head as he looked at them. "Do you always make an entrance like that?"

"Demoralizes the opposition," Crimson Knight replied. "What’s the situation right now?"

The officer shook his head again. "Standoff. Your man in DC won’t let us negotiate face to face, and that guy won’t deal over the phone. Our people aren’t worried; they say this is still just foreplay. If he still won’t talk in another hour, then they say they’ll be worried."

"It’s not going to last that long," Crimson Knight said. "We’re going to end it in a few minutes."

"Hey, wait a minute," the officer said sharply, "he’s got a bomb in there."

"No, he doesn’t," Crimson Knight said. "That’s a bluff. Why go to the trouble of building a bomb if you’re going to rob a bank? No, he knows that will keep you back. Besides you can’t prove he doesn’t; I can."

"How are you going to do that?" Mind Mistress asked in his mind.

"I’m not, I’m betting he doesn’t have one," Jake thought back, "but they don’t know that. They don’t know what I’ve got in my helmet."

Jake made a show of looking around the bank building. "There are no concentrations of explosive material in there. Heck, he doesn’t even have a gun."

The officer looked at him with awe. "You can see all that? That’s some helmet."

"Does everything except make a cup of coffee," Crimson Knight said. While Jake was bluffing about the explosives, he did see a man in a dark suit standing by the door. "That’s your perp, there by the doors."

The officer turned around and saw the man. He slid his pistol from his holster into his hand. "Heads up, there’s our boy," he yelled. "Get ready."

"Hold your fire," Crimson Knight barked. Amplified by the loudspeakers in his helmet, his voice carried up and down the line. "He wouldn’t be standing there if he was worried about you," he said in a more normal tone.

"So what are we supposed to do?" the officer snarled.

"You’re just supposed to keep him occupied," Crimson Knight said. "We’ll handle him. That’s why we’re here." He turned to Mind Mistress. "You ready?"

She nodded. "Let’s take him down," she said calmly.

Crimson Knight turned to face the officer. "Hold your fire until I give the signal. No matter what it looks like, don’t fire without my signal. Understood?"

"Right, only fire on your signal," the officer said.

Crimson Knight turned towards the bank. He moved forward, sliding sideways to get between the parked police cars. He walked slowly, using his armor to intimidate the mentalist. It was a long shot, but he wanted every advantage he could have.

The man had slid out of view for a moment as Crimson Knight started moving, but now he slid around into the view of the doors. Jake swore that, just for a second, he could feel the man’s eyes boring into him, behind his visor.

"Why are you opposing me?" a voice echoed in his head. Deep and filled with authority, it sounded like every drill sergeant in the world was yelling at him. "Why do you defend them? They are weak, we are strong."

"No," Jake thought, trying to force the man back, "because we are strong, we must defend them."

"Ha," the voice laughed. "You are weak. Let me have control. Let me direct you. You are a weapon, I am the wielder." Jake’s body froze in the street as his mind fought a battle for control.

"What’s happening?" the officer asked Mind Mistress. "He’s just standing there, staring at the guy."

She reached out with her mind, touching Jake’s mind lightly. She felt the other presence instantly. Jake was fighting, but he was no match for a powerful telepath. She had to intercede now.

"No," she shouted into Jake’s mind. "Don’t listen to him."

"Shut up, wench," the mentalist snarled. "You’re weaker than he is. You have god-like power, and you waste it helping these weaklings."

"Because I love them," she said. "Just like I love him, and he loves me. That’s your weakness; you don’t love anyone except yourself."

"Love? What’s love got to do with it?" the mentalist sneered. "Life is about power. Let me show you." Crimson Knight began to turn around, his arms coming up, bringing his weapons to bear on the police line.

"No, Jake," Mind Mistress called, "don’t do it. Fight him, take back control. Use our love as your strength."

"Love will not save you now," the mentalist crowed as Jake continued his turn.

Suddenly, he stopped, his arms still raised. "No," Jake yelled. The shout, mental as well as verbal, bought him precious moments of clarity. He swung back towards the bank with his arms still raised. "Love is the only reason to live. Power isn’t enough."

"Fool, I’ll destroy you," the telepath roared, focussing his power into a scorching heat inside Jake’s brain, trying to boil it from inside.

"Not a chance," Mind Mistress said. She saw through Jake’s eyes and launched her own mental attack at the man. He stiffened and then shrieked as Mind Mistress’s attack slammed into his mind, driven by Lindsey’s determination and anger. He collapsed like a puppet with its string cut. Crimson Knight threatened to fall as well, but he managed to only drop to one knee in the middle of the street.

Mind Mistress hopped over the hood of the police car and ran to Crimson Knight. "Are you all right?" she cried.

Crimson Knight shook his head, and then gave her a thumbs up. "I could use about three bottles of asprin, but I’ll be fine."

"Good," she said, "because I’m not through with you yet. Let’s get out of here."

Early the next morning, Mindstar and Powergirl entered the base. A quick glance showed that the first floor was deserted, and all of the lights were off.

"I thought at least Jake would have waited up," Powergirl said, yawning and stretching. "He’s usually so formal about handing control back to you and all of that."

Mindstar stretched out his mind, briefly contacting each team member’s sleeping mind, getting a picture of what had happened. He smiled as he thought of what Jake had been through. "I don’t know; he’s had a really rough night."

Powergirl cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, and how do you know that?"

Mindstar smiled. "One hint. Somebody’s room is empty, and it’s not Jake’s."

Powergirl stared at him in disbelief for a moment then she smiled, looking upstairs. "Yep. If I know Lindsey, she’s loved him to sleep."

"What’s love got to do with it?" Mindstar replied. "That’s not how she put him out." Powergirl playfully slugged him on the arm as they headed up the stairs.