Explanation: This story carries on my alternate universe for "Prey", in which Tom was captured by a secret faction of the government, caged, experimented on, and eventually rescued with the self-motivated help of the Limo Lady, who realized late in the game that in working for the secret faction she may have been on the wrong side. "Choices, Part 1" is my own episode 15 of "Prey", picking up where my episode 14 left off.
The man in the dark suit circles the cage slowly, his face hidden in the shadows. His footsteps echo hollowly in the cavernous room, the only sound other than Tom's panicked breathing.
And then comes the voice he remembers so well. Low, controlled, emotionless. No inflection other than a fleeting expression of satisfaction.
"You didn't think you could escape us, did you?" the man says gently, mockingly. "It was inevitable that we would get you back.
"All it took was the right bait."
With that, an overhead light nearby flickers on. Illuminating another cage, and the huddled figure inside.
Tom watches, his breath caught in his throat, as the figure lifts its head, red hair spilling to its shoulders in a mass of curls. Clouded green eyes look his way, full of pain and fear.
Sloan.
"No!!!" he cries in rage, trying to leap up, to reach out and grab at the man.
But a vise of some kind drags him down, trapping him in its weight, leaving him impotent to save himself and the person who means most to him in this world.
Tom bolts upright in bed, sweat covering his face and the breath still caught in his lungs. And looks down to find his legs tangled in a mass of brightly-colored sheets.
In a panic, he turns to the figure lying beside him. Sloan. Safe, here with him, her eyes open in the shadowed bedroom, watching him with concern.
"Tom?" she says softly, and sits up to touch his arm gently, her body close to his.
Shutting his eyes with relief, he fights to slow the pounding of his heart, to banish the sight of what he's just seen in his mind's eye.
"You had another nightmare, didn't you?" Sloan tries to keep the worry out of her voice. "You've had them almost every night since we got you to the lab. And they're getting worse."
He shakes his head silently, unable to trust his voice.
"Tom, you have to talk about it." Sloan gently takes hold of his shoulders and turns him to face her. "If you don't, you'll never be able to let it go."
"No," he says finally, evenly. "Sloan .... no."
Studying his face, so dear to her and so shuttered at this moment, she concedes defeat and gives him the only comfort she can .... the warmth of her embrace. At first he resists, his body stiff with tension. But then he makes a small sound, a wordless murmur she's heard before when she takes him in her arms, and he slowly relaxes against her, following her back to sink into the pillows.
It has to get better, she reasons, listening as his breathing slowly eases. This is his first night home, after days spent at Marcus's lab recovering from his gunshot wound and the effects of the drugs he was given during his captivity. They had all been worried about him .... during the day he remained as polite and attentive as ever, but it was as though a part of him had shut down, or been left behind in the cage they now knew he had spent three days in. And at night the dreams came, horrifying in their intensity judging from the way they woke him.
She had stayed by his side through it all, and had been there to wake him when he couldn't fight his way out of the nightmres on his own. But he never spoke to her of them, and she was beginning to despair that he ever would.
When Marcus's doctor had finally released Tom from the lab, she had taken him home with her. Nothing had been said about how long he would stay, but she was determined to make the arrangement a permanent one. They had had one night before he was taken from her, and if she had her way they'd have the rest of their lives together.
Tightening her arms around him as he sleeps, she rests her head against his and closes her eyes. Just having him here with her is enough for now.
"Shane?"
The voice comes from out of the shadows of an alley close by as Shane hurries home through the dark streets. His blood freezes at the sound, but at the same time he feels a strange sense of relief. It was inevitable that his father would finally find him, and he's been looking over his shoulder for weeks. At least now, the waiting is over.
Turning, he watches as Charles Baker steps out of the shadows and halts a short distance away, his hands in his coat pockets. He's a small man whose life has been spent as a bureaucrat; self-effacing, his open, pleasant features encouraging those around him to respect him and confide in him. Perfect weapons for carrying out his real assignment .... subtly subverting the operations of the city government he works for.
"Father."
"You look tired."
There is a note of concern in the older man's voice, but Shane doesn't respond. He learned long ago that his father uses words like weapons, calculated for effect. His tone is always quiet, even, and reasonable, but he manipulates his children the way he manipulates his enemies, and keeps them well aware of his authority over them.
"How did you find me?" Shane asks.
"We've had people searching for you all over the state," his father responds evenly. "One finally spotted you and let me know."
"And you've been watching me ever since."
"You're my responsibility," Charles says patiently. "Your mother is concerned. I'm concerned. We see you throwing your life away .... your destiny .... and we can't let that happen."
"I'm not throwing it away," Shane insists. "I'm making choices, deciding how I want to live my life."
"Choices?" His father looks at him in confusion. "The choices have been made for you, son. Your future is the one that has been planned for you."
"But it's not the one I want!"
Charles shakes his head impatiently. "You're not making sense, Shane. This isn't the way we raised you to think."
Stepping closer, now within reaching distance, he studies his son's determined face. "It's Tom Daniels, isn't it?" he asks suddenly. "He's the one filling your head with this nonsense."
Shane stills. "How do you know about Tom?" he asks carefully, watching his father's face.
"You were seen meeting with him." Charles looks at him reproachfully. "When I heard, I knew I had to make you realize the error of your ways. Surely you must realize I can't allow you to consort with someone who has turned his back on our species. Who has worked against us.
"He's confused you, I can understand that .... he was the best at what he did, a master of manipulation and deception. But he's wrong, son. He's a traitor to everything we're fighting for. You'll see that once you're back home with us, where you belong."
Shane has had enough. It never changes .... his father sees only what he wants to, and treats his children accordingly. They've been here for several minutes now, and his father has yet to touch him, or even ask what he wants. Shane thinks of Sloan Parker, who had reached out and taken him in her arms during that terrible time when Tom was in surgery, fighting for his life. She had touched him more in those moments than his father had in his life. Even Tom, raised just as he had been to believe that emotions are wrong, has touched him with affection and given him his unconditional support. Suddenly, overwhelmingly, he misses them both.
Shaking his head, he looks at his father one last time. "I won't go back with you," he says with determination, and turns to leave.
"Shane."
There's a change in Charles Baker's tone, so slight that only those who knew him well could sense it. Shane stiffens, and turns back, dread seeping through him in spite of himself.
"I was afraid that you would take this attitude," Charles says, his voice regretful. "That you would fail to see what's at stake here."
Shane stays silent, and Charles, his gaze intent, continues. "Our family honor will suffer, you know that, don't you? To have our oldest son reject everything he's been taught .... the life his superiors have planned for him .... reflects badly on us all. The only answer is to ensure that the rest of our children work to erase the stain from our name."
Shane's heart is in his mouth by now. He knows what's coming, but doesn't want to believe it.
"Trevor will have to take your place," Charles explains. "But not in the career we had planned for you. That won't be enough. He'll trained as a chameleon instead."
"But he's only eleven years old!" Shane protests, horrified. A chameleon. His species' euphemistic term for an assassin. His gentle little brother, taken away from his family and trained to kill, just as Tom had been.
"That's the age that they begin their training, you know that," Charles reminds him. "There's an entry-level position open, and he's to be there in four days."
Shane shakes his head impotently. "You can't do this!"
"Oh, but I can," Charles says regretfully. "And I must. It's the only way to erase the shame you've brought to our family. To our species."
He pauses, watching his son's face. He has planned this carefully, and Shane has reacted just as he expected. "There is one way that I could be convinced to change my mind," he says finally.
Shane's eyes flash to his, first in hope, and then in realization. "If I come back," he finishes the thought.
"Yes," Charles says simply. "If you come back."
Turning to leave, he turns his head back for one last look at his son.
"You have four days."
Sloan looks at Tom with concern as they make their way slowly along the halls of Whitney Laboratories. It's his first full day out of the hospital and he's still feeling the effects of his ordeal, but he has insisted on coming with her to the meeting at Walter's office.
"You shouldn't be here," she reminds him gently, picking up the threads of the argument they've been having since he first woke this morning, his face still drawn from his latest nightmare.
"I have to be, Sloan." Tom turns his head to hers, his eyes asking for understanding. "We have to present a united front if this thing is going to work."
"This thing" was their meeting with the woman who has become both their nemesis and their savior. The Limo Lady, who worked for the men who sabotaged Walter's peace talks with Marcus Allen and his group of peaceful dominants. Who caged and drugged Tom for three long days before he was rescued.
She had bartered Tom's freedom and the reopening of the lab for her own future, insisting that Walter use his own government contacts to protect her if and when her superiors were revealed and arrested. She is coming today to collect.
Walter and Ed are waiting for them in Walter's office, their expressions serious and determined. "Tom," Walter says, nodding his head slightly. "Sloan."
Tom takes his customary place in a corner of the office, his arms crossed, and watches Sloan take the chair next to Ed's. His senses are heightened by the tension in the room, and in himself. He has never trusted Walter's boss, and suspects she's even more dangerous now that she's fighting to hang on to the power she's worked so hard to acquire.
They don't have long to wait. The Limo Lady appears at the door within minutes, striding in with her usual confidence. "Walter," she acknowledges abruptly, her gaze straying to Tom. Her reaction is imperceptible to all but him .... a slight hesitation, a flash of unease at his presence before she assumes her customary air of icy calm.
"I thought we would be meeting alone." She turns her gaze on Walter. "For that matter, I thought we would be meeting someplace more private than this. People are watching, Walter. We can't afford to make mistakes."
Drawing a deep breath, Walter looks at this woman who has commanded his life for the past few years, used him in her grasp for more power, and risked the life of people he cares about. Their positions have changed now, and he has no intention of letting her steer his life or this meeting any further.
"We won't be meeting in any more dark alleys," he says steadily. "And when we meet, we'll do it as a group. I've kept Sloan and Ed and Tom in the dark long enough."
"Walter .... "
"I don't think you're in a position to be making any demands," he adds softly, a hint of steel in his voice.
The Limo Lady studies him silently for a moment, and when she replies her tone is equally soft and challenging. "Walter, if it wasn't for me you wouldn't be here. Do I have to remind you of that?"
"No," Walter acknowledges thoughtfully. "You did get me released. With relative ease, I might add, despite the theatrics of the rooftop escape. Which makes me wonder just who it was who ordered my release in the first place."
Watching from his corner, Tom has to admire the Limo Lady. She shows absolutely no reaction to Walter's pointed barb, but then he didn't expect that she would. She hasn't played the game this long and survived by letting herself be baited.
"You're wasting my time, Walter." She shoves her hands in her pockets and looks at him challengingly. "My superiors are still in operation. Why? I thought that your contacts would have had them shut down by now."
"They need more information," he responds. "And they're not ready to move until they get it.
"What kind of information?"
"They need to know who your superiors are," he says, rising to walk around the side of his desk. "How high up the chain of command they are. What they plan to do next.
"That's where you come in. You want the support of my contacts. They want you to keep working for your superiors for the moment. To gather information and, if necessary, to spread disinformation."
"This isn't what we agreed to, Walter." They face each other squarely, neither one giving way.
"No," he says with a slight smile. "It's not, is it?"
"And if I say no?"
"Then people in positions of authority will learn of your activities over the past few months. Your willingness to disrupt the peace talks .... to have me attacked, and then arrested .... to have Tom kidnapped and tortured."
Her eyes flicker over to Tom again.
"What do I get in return?"
"The assurances of my contacts that your name will be kept clear of the fall-out. With your abilities and the promise of immunity, you should be back on top in no time."
She studies him silently for a moment, weighing her options. And agrees with a curt nod. "You'll hear from me soon," she says, and heads for the door.
"Oh, and Walter," she says, turning at the last minute. "Don't get too comfortable. You have the upper hand for now, but that will change, I promise you."
"So, what do you think?" Ed looks at Tom curiously as he waits for him to roll up his sleeve. He's been doing daily blood tests on Tom since his rescue to gauge the effects of the drugs forced on him while he was in the cage, and is taking advantage of Tom's presence in the lab to get another sample.
"About what?" Tom asks wearily, slumping a little on his stool. Sloan was right, he reflects. He's not fully recovered yet, and the sleepless nights are beginning to take their toll.
"Attwood's boss," Ed reminds him, deftly injecting the needle after a quick swab of the area. "Can we trust her?"
"No," Tom says slowly. "But we can make use of her, at least long enough to find out who's behind the group she works for."
"What about *her* boss, the guy you told us about?" Ed asks curiously as he removes the needle and moves to label the vials of blood he's taken.
Tom stills for a moment, the memories coming back. He's fought against them, has refused to give them power over him, but it's been a losing battle. "I don't know," he answers finally. "He was definitely the man in charge, but we don't know who he answers to."
"He didn't give you any hint?"
"He wasn't interested in talking," Tom says flatly, the man's voice echoing in his head.
Turning his head, he watches as Ed sets the vials aside for testing. "How does it look?" he asks, knowing that Ed has kept close watch on the levels of drugs in his system.
"Better," Ed says on a sigh. "There are still traces of some of the drugs, though. How are you feeling? Any mood swings .... trouble sleeping?"
"Nothing I can't handle."
Ed looks at him doubtfully. The med techs at Marcus's lab told him of the nightmares, and while Sloan hasn't said anything, she's obviously worried. All you have to do is look at the guy to see that there's a problem, he thinks, eyeing Tom's pallor and the shadows under his eyes. But he can't do anything for him until Tom asks for help.
"How's the shoulder?" he asks.
"Mending," Tom replies, reflexively moving his left arm and feeling a corresponding twinge. "We heal quickly."
"So I've heard," Ed says with a small smile.
The testing over, Ed moves to leave but hesitates when he realizes that Tom is still seated, watching him carefully. "Anything else?"
"Are you still working on your gene therapy experiment?" Tom asks after a long pause. His look is intent, as though the answer is important to him.
"Uh .... no, not at the moment." Ed ducks his head in discomfort, then looks up at Tom. "Knowing what happened to you in that cage, and talking with Marcus Adams .... it's made me wonder if the gene therapy is the way to go."
Tom arches an eyebrow inquiringly, and Ed tries to explain the jumble of emotions that have plagued him the last few days. "When I came up with the idea, it seemed like the only answer. We'd faced the tick, the nanites, Copeland's crazy plan for the Spanish flu .... it was time to strike back."
He looks back at Tom, his expression uncertain. "But if we use it, are we any better than they are? The new species, I mean, and the people who took you."
"You've definitely been talking to Marcus," Tom says with a knowing smile, well aware of Marcus's feelings on the subject.
"Oh yeah," Ed says ruefully, running a hand through his already tousled hair.
"The problem with Marcus's theory is that it doesn't take into account people like Lewis, or Copeland," Tom says slowly. "He thinks that he can persuade them all that coexistence is the only answer, but he can't. Some will fight to the death against us, and we need weapons of our own to fight back with."
"But I thought you believed in coexistence."
"I do," Tom agrees. "But I'm realistic enough to know that it won't come without a fight. What you have to decide is whether you want to be a part of it."
"What about you?" Ed asks curiously. "I mean, now that you've had people experiment on you. Would you be willing to use the gene therapy drug on your own species?"
Tom shakes his head. "I'm the wrong person to ask. We're taught to do whatever it takes to prevail. Personal feelings don't come into it."
"Yeah, but that was before someone put you in a cage and filled you full of drugs," Ed points out. "What do you think now?"
"That's the problem," Tom says, looking around him at the lab and all its equipment. "I don't know any more."
Sitting next door in her office, Sloan finds herself staring blankly at her computer screen. All the data is there from Ed's gene therapy experiment, all the data she's collected herself in her effort to understand the new species better. But she's finding herself gripped with the same sense of ambivalence that Ed is.
In theory, Ed's experiment had excited her. Finally, they were taking a stand against the new species, fighting back instead of just reacting.
But Tom's suffering at the hands of those who experimented on him has changed all that. She's seen the results of those tests .... his nightmares, the tension he carries with him every moment of the day .... and wonders how different she is from his tormentors in her willingness to have dominants injected with a drug that would change who they are at their most fundamental level.
The ringing of the phone breaks into her reverie, and she answers distractedly, her eyes still on the screen. "Sloan Parker."
"Dr. Parker?"
At the sound of the tension in the familiar voice, she straightens. "Shane? Are you all right?"
"Dr. Parker, I need to see you."
"When? Tom's here at the lab with me .... we can meet you whenever you want."
"No!" Shane's voice is insistent. "Don't bring Tom with you. I need to see you alone."
"All right," she agrees curiously. "Where do you want to meet?"
"At the fountain near your building. As soon as possible."
"I'll leave right now," she promises.
"And Dr. Parker? Don't tell Tom about this. Please."
"Shane .... "
"Please."
"All right," she agrees reluctantly, and hangs up the phone.
Reaching for her jacket and purse, she glances through the glass window of her office to the lab, where Tom and Ed appear to be deep in discussion. Knowing they won't miss her for the time being, she slips quietly out of the lab and heads for the elevators.
Shane is waiting for her at the fountain when she arrives minutes later, a backpack at his feet, his eyes scanning the faces of the people wandering past. His face brightens when he sees her, but her first impression of trouble doesn't ease. His expression is as strained as his voice was on the phone, and he continues to scan the area even as she takes a seat beside him.
"Thanks for meeting me," he says, giving her a quick smile.
"You know you can call me anytime," she says, smiling back. "What can I do for you?"
His smile fades, and he takes another quick look around them. "I need your help, Dr. Parker. Yours, and Dr. Attwood's."
"To do what?"
"To help me save my brother." As her eyes widen in surprise, he nods. "I know I've never talked about my family. It was hard enough leaving them behind .... some of them, anyway."
"But not all of them?" Sloan asks sympathetically.
Shane winces in memory. "My father," he says painfully. "He's a true believer .... he does what he's told without question, and he expects us to be the same way. I tried to tell him that I couldn't do the things that were expected of me, but he wouldn't listen. What I did -- leaving like that -- was the only way out."
"And now?"
"He found me out where I was, and stopped me last night on my way home. He's given me an ultimatum .... either I go back, or he sends Trevor to a training base for chameleons."
"Like Tom?" she asks, dismay in her voice.
He nods, and they both fall silent for a moment, their thoughts on Tom and the little he's told them about his life before he met them.
Sloan straightens with determination. "What can we do?"
"I won't go back," Shane says flatly. "I know my father. It won't be enough for him if I give in .... now that he's decided Trevor should become a chameleon, he won't back down no matter what I do. I have to get Trevor away from him, and I need your help to do it."
Sloan reaches out to put her hand on his. "We have to go to Tom about this," she says firmly. "He needs to know what's going on, and he's the best one to help you."
"No." Shane shakes his head. "I can't do that to him. He's done so much for me already .... he almost died because of me. I can't pull him into this."
"You have to," she insists. "He wouldn't forgive himself if something happened to you, and he wasn't there to help you. Besides," she adds, seeing his reluctance, "you may just be helping him."
Now his attention is on her, and the worry in her voice. "Tom's .... been having a hard time since his rescue. Not physically," she hastens to add, seeing the concern on his face. "Physically he's healing well. But what happened to him in that cage is haunting him, and he can't seem to get past it. Being able to help you might be just what he needs to distract him."
Glancing down at his backpack, she asks, "Where are you staying now?"
"Nowhere," he says, glancing around him quickly. "I've been afraid to go back to my room .... my father's been following me ever since he found me. He's here now, watching from close by .... I can sense him."
"Then you're coming home with us," she says, standing and reaching her hand out to his. "And we'll talk with Tom. He'll know what to do."
He stays seated a moment longer, looking up at her, doubt clearly written on his face. At times like this, she realizes what a heavy burden he's had to carry since leaving his family and his species behind, and how young he really is.
"It will be all right," she says softly. "I promise." And with a look of relief, he puts his hand in hers and they head back to the Life Sciences building, and to Tom.
'Interesting,' the Limo Lady thinks to herself as she watches events unfold in front of her.
She had taken a seat on a secluded park bench near Walter's building in order to think, and had become an unwitting witness to Sloan's meeting with Shane, the dominant she herself had used as a source of information a few weeks ago.
She had known that Tom Daniels had spirited the boy away, had known that his evasions to her about Shane were lies. But she had let it go .... with her superior's plans to subvert Walter's work in their early stages, she had enough to deal with as it was.
Watching them now, it's clear that Sloan and Shane know each other well, a development that could be of use to her.
And even more valuable to her is the sight of the small man watching them from nearby, hidden from them but not from her by a stand of trees. She recognizes him from her intelligence files .... Charles Baker, Shane's father. A faceless bureaucrat by day, in reality he is one of the members of the new species both ambitious and influential enough to have come to her notice.
He is also considered to be fanatically committed to the new species' plans, and wouldn't take his son's defection lightly, she muses.
She's been sitting here looking for a way out of her current situation. Her superior is still suspicious. Her attempts to convince him that someone else in their operation was to blame for Tom Daniels' escape haven't been as successful as she'd hoped, and he now regularly leaves her out of meetings held by the secret faction. She has to find a way back in, particularly with Walter's threats to expose her if she doesn't pass valuable information on to his government contacts.
She needs a diversion. Something that will distract both of them from their suspicions of her, and put them in her debt.
And she may just have found it.
Rising from the bench, she casually makes her way past the fountain, following the path that Charles Baker has taken.
Tom listens to Shane's story in silence, his brow furrowed in thought.
They're back at Sloan's apartment, Tom resting in the big chair in the corner of the living room and Shane in a chair facing him, bent forward intently, his elbows on his knees.
"Do you think your brother would be willing to leave, the way you have?" he asks finally.
Shane shakes his head in response. "I'm not sure," he confesses. "He looks up to our father so much. But I know him. He's too gentle for the chameleon program .... he'll never survive it."
A flicker of pain crosses Tom's face. "It won't matter what he's like, Shane," he says gently. "They're experts at molding anyone into a chameleon. They'll take his memories away, isolate him, program him. When he comes out, he'll be a killer."
Sloan, working quietly nearby in the kitchen, raises her head at the tone of self-condemnation in his voice. She had hoped that helping Shane would help Tom heal, but worries now that trying to save Trevor will dredge up memories better left alone. Tom has confessed to her about the people he's killed, and she had thought that in talking about it he had come to terms with his past. But it's obvious he still hasn't forgiven himself for what he's done.
Shane looks down at his hands for a moment, and then up at Tom again, his face determined. "I can't let that happen. Not without trying to get Trevor out."
Tom studies his face carefully, and then nods. "Then what you have to do is get Trevor away from your father long enough for him to meet with us. We can't force him to leave. But if he wants out, we'll get him out."
Shane nods quickly. "I'll go home tomorrow .... I know I can get to him when my parents are out of the house."
"Good. If he's willing, get him to agree to a meeting with the two of us. I'll talk to him .... tell him what will happen to him in the chameleon program, and let him know that he has a choice.
"In the meantime, you'll stay here," he adds, looking to Sloan for confirmation, and getting it in her quick smile. "You're right .... it's not safe for you to go back to where you were staying."
"But .... " Shane says, looking around him at the one-bedroom apartment.
Tom's lips quirk in a grin. "You'll sleep here," he says, patting the arm of the oversized chair. "I've done it and survived .... you will too, although you may feel like a pretzel in the morning."
"Tom," Sloan chides, wiping her hands on a towel, her eyes sparkling.
Tom shakes his head mockingly. "You'd think a scientist's salary would be enough to afford a decent-sized couch, wouldn't you?" he confides to Shane, and gets a relieved grin in return.
"Now that you're finished making fun of my furniture, it's time for dinner, and for you to rest," Sloan says sternly, her eyes on Tom. "You're still recuperating, remember?"
His eyes soften at the look on her face and he smiles his agreement, preparing to stand and follow her to the table. But Shane reaches his hand out to stop him before he can move.
"Tom." Shane looks at him seriously, his expression uncertain. "I didn't want to drag you into this. You've done so much for me already, and you've been through so much yourself lately."
Tom reaches his hand out to touch Shane's reassuringly. "You aren't dragging me into this. I want to help. You're giving your brother the chance I never had, and if I can keep just one person from going through that program, I will."
"But my father .... "
"I'm not afraid of your father," Tom says intently. "I've met far worse. Let me deal with him, if it comes to that. You focus on Trevor. Okay?"
Shane bites his lip, and then gives a small nod. "Okay.
This time there's something different. Tom can feel it. Huddled in his cage, his breath coming in spurts, he can sense a new level of malevolence in the man standing next to him.
Rising his head painfully, he looks over at the cage nearby, and the still figure of Sloan inside. Her back is to him now, her head bent forward. He can't tell if she's breathing, and panic rises in him like a wave.
"Sloan?" he gasps, hoping for a reaction, some movement .... anything to prove to him that she's still alive.
"She can't hear you, Mr. Daniels." Tom's head drops down on his chest, his struggle for breath consuming him. But he forces out the words, desperate to know.
"Is she alive?"
"For now." The voice sounds different this time, deeper, more mocking. "But as for how long .... that depends on you."
"What do you want from me?" he asks in despair.
"Tom." The voice chides him now, its familiar tones resonating in his memory.
A chill of foreboding fills him as he lifts his head, straining to see through the darkness to the still figure beside him. The man in the dark suit is gone. In his place stands someone taller, dressed in dark clothes, his silvery hair and beard shining in the single light overhead.
Lewis.
"You know the answer to that," his mentor says, a gentle hint of reproach in his voice.
"I want your soul."
"No!!!"
Tom tears his way out of his nightmare to find himself sitting up in bed, sheets tangled around him once again, Sloan close beside him. His chest heaving with exertion, he hunches forward, trying to regain control.
"You're all right, Tom," Sloan whispers, her hand rubbing his back rhythmically. "You're all right."
Giving a short laugh that comes out more as a sob, he shakes his head grimly.
"Did I wake Shane?"
"I don't think so," she says soothingly. "I shut the door to the bedroom before I came to bed, just in case."
Sloan leans against him gently, continuing to rub his back. "Can you tell me about it, Tom?" she asks hesitantly.
It's on the tip of his tongue to refuse, but for once he hesitates. He has battled these nightmares on his own since his first night in Marcus's lab, and keeping silent hasn't helped. Nothing has. And now the tenor of the dreams themselves have changed.
"I'm back in the cage," he finally confesses. "With the man in the dark suit standing nearby."
"What is he doing?"
He looks down, his face bleak. "Telling me that it was inevitable that he'd get me back."
"What else?"
Turning to face her, he touches her cheek lightly. "That he'd used you as bait." He closes his eyes for a moment at the memory. "I look up, and you're there, in a cage nearby. Drugged and naked, just the way I am."
"They kept you naked?" Sloan says, an edge of anger in her voice. Tom had told them only the basics about his time in captivity .... the cage, the drugs, and the man in charge. The rest he had kept to himself.
He nods. "It was a matter of control, I think," he says thoughtfully. "Having me there in that cage that way, without any clothes, was his way of breaking me. Letting me know he had complete power over me."
"Why?"
"Because I was the enemy. And because I was different, a challenge." He gives a small, mirthless laugh. "He told me that I was a mystery -- a Homo Dominant who felt things -- and that he didn't like mysteries."
"Tonight's nightmare seemed worse somehow," Sloan says hesitantly, relieved that he's finally talking to her, and afraid to push too much.
Nodding slightly, his face troubled, he says, "The man in the suit turned into Lewis at the end."
Sloan shudders. "That's enough to give anyone nightmares."
Tom shakes his head in confusion. "I don't know. Seeing him there beside the cage .... it felt familiar somehow."
"Do you know why?"
"No," he confesses. "But it feels as though I should."
Lost in thought, he lapses into silence for a few moments, and and then raises his head to look at her intently. "Sloan, the man in the suit .... he won't give up. He wants me back, I can feel it. And he'll do everything in his power to do it .... including using you."
His eyes darken. "I couldn't bear that. Promise me you'll be careful. When you're not with me, stay close to Ed, or Walter." "Tom .... "
"Promise me," he says urgently.
"I will," she says softly, her eyes searching his.
Leaning forward, she touches her lips to his in a gentle kiss meant to soothe and reassure. But the feeling of urgency that has driven him since waking from the nightmare has him clutching her body to his and deepening the kiss, his mouth covering hers with a force that makes her gasp.
He's never kissed her this way before, so desperately and so full of need, and she responds in kind, her arms twining around his shoulders, his neck, in an effort to press him closer still.
"Sloan," he says on a gasp, tumbling her back onto the pillows with him, his mouth moving hotly from her lips to the soft skin of her neck, her throat, his hands reaching under her silk top to spread across her back, tracing her spine.
He touches her body everywhere as though imprinting the feel of her on his mind, slowly opening the buttons of her top, his lips tracing a path down the line of her shoulders, her breasts. He can feel her tremble with passion, hear her breath coming in shorter and shorter spurts, and soon she's pulling his head back up to hers, her kiss consuming him.
Moving one hand to her waist to ease under the band of her silk pants, Tom suddenly stills. They're reaching the point of no return, he realizes dimly, but the timing is all wrong. The problem of birth control is still an issue now that he's off Ed's gene therapy drug, and he won't take the risk, no matter how great his need for her is. Sloan is too lost to her passion at this point to stop, but he knows that they must, and so he slowly gentles their kiss, his hands losing their urgency and sweeping across her skin instead in soothing circles.
Sloan's pace eventually slows with his, their kisses turning languid and sweet, their breaths mingling. And finally she pulls her mouth away, and rests her forehead against his. "I guess we got a little ahead of ourselves," she says, her lips curving in an intimate smile.
Trembling with need, Tom gives a small, breathless laugh. "Just a little."
"Maybe we should have that talk with Ed soon, about birth control," she teases softly.
"Very soon," he says fervently, tightening his arms around her and kissing the curve of her neck. "It's just as well, though," he adds, smiling into her soft skin. "The room was starting to spin."
"Oh, Tom .... " she says, worry taking over as she brushes her hand against his shoulder. "I forgot."
"I'm all right," he reassures her, capturing her hand with his. "I just don't think I'm up to this, not quite yet."
Holding her close, he lies quietly, listening to her breathing slow and feeling a sense of peace ease over him at last. He's come to dread the nights and the dreams that come with them, but she's made this one special for him and taken some of the burden away. "Thank you," he whispers, his mouth against her ear.
"For what?" Sloan whispers back, her hand next to his heart.
"For making me talk." He stays silent for a moment, struggling with words that still don't come easily. "For helping."
Propping herself up on one elbow, she looks down at his face, so peaceful at the moment, and traces his lips. "I love you, Tom Daniels," she says softly. "I'll always be here for you."
His eyes glisten in the shadows as he reaches up to touch her lips, and bring her face down to his. "And I love you."
Breakfast the next morning is a quiet one, Shane preoccupied with thoughts of the coming meeting with Trevor, Tom still tired from his restless night. But he's more relaxed now than he's been since before his capture, Sloan thinks as she watches him tease Shane gently. His smile comes a little easier, and some of the shadows are gone from his eyes.
That he was finally able to open up to her last night is still a miracle to her, knowing how hard it is for him to reveal any part of himself, and she's hoping that in the days to come his nightmares will slowly lose their power over him.
She's also hoping to solve another problem, she thinks to herself with a private smile .... their uncertainty over the birth control issue. Gene therapy is out: Tom has been experimented on enough, and she won't let him take Ed's drug just to protect her. But there must be other options, and with Ed's help she hopes to come up with a solution, and soon. Tom's passion last night was a revelation .... in opening up to her about his nightmares, he left himself vulnerable to her in a way he never had before, and his emotions and his desire for her had taken over.
Catching his eye now as he talks to Shane, she gives him a small, intimate smile, and is rewarded with a flash of awareness and intensity in his eyes that leaves her breathless. It's definitely time to talk to Ed, she promises herself with a grin.
Straightening to clear away the last of the dirty dishes, she thinks ahead to the meeting Walter and Ed have planned with Marcus Adams, head of the dominants' peace faction and the man who helped rescue Tom. They've agreed to meet with him and discuss what direction their research on the new species might take, and she hopes the meeting will be fruitful. They've all been at a loss since Tom's capture and subsequent rescue, second-guessing their decision to develop a weapon of their own against the new species in the face of Marcus's arguments for peace and Tom's obvious suffering at the hands of scientists much like themselves.
Picking up her purse, she walks over to the table where Shane and Tom are sitting and lightly drops her hand on Shane's shoulder. "Good luck today," she says softly, smiling into his upturned face and giving his shoulder a quick squeeze. "I hope you get your brother out. And remember, both of you have a home here for as long as you need it." Impulsively, she leans down to kiss him on the cheek, and watches with amusement as his face flushes a fiery red, his embarrassment battling with a faintly pleased look.
"And you," she says, giving Tom a stern look and heading his way. "You take care of yourself. You're still healing, remember?"
He smiles at her tone, accepts her soft kiss, and holds onto her hand as she prepares to leave. "Be careful," he says quietly, squeezing it gently.
"I will," she promises, and leans down to kiss him again, more lingeringly this time.
This time it's Tom's turn to blush as he turns from watching her leave and finds Shane's knowing eyes on his, a grin spreading across the boy's normally serious face. "Humans," Tom says with a grin of his own. "So emotional."
"The first thing we should do is take a sperm count," Ed says decisively. "I mean, we're supposed to be dealing with some kind of super sperm here. The question is, do all dominant males have them, or just breeders like Kevin's biological father, Richard Allen?"
Sloan sits on a stool in the lab and watches him fondly. Ed's confusion over the future of his project has left him adrift, and he has latched onto her request for help with enthusiasm.
"I guess we should have done that at the start," Sloan confesses, "but your gene therapy experiment seemed like such an easy answer."
"But not any more," Ed finishes her thought, looking at her questioningly.
"No." She shakes her head decisively. "Tom's been through enough."
"How's he doing?" Ed asks curiously.
Sloan hesitates, memories of last night filling her mind. "Better," she says cautiously. "He has nightmares about the cage .... about what they did to him. It's almost as if it's brought up memories from his past, from his time with Lewis. But he's finally starting to talk about it, and I'm hoping that will help."
"Well, get him in here, he can give us a sample," Ed says, "and we'll get started."
"Sloan? Ed?" Walter interrupts, leaning in the doorway. "Marcus is here."
The dominant peace leader is waiting for them in Walter's office, his charismatic presence filling the room. They had formed an unlikely partnership with him during Tom's rescue, and had come to respect him. But there's still some measure of restraint on both sides, and he greets them formally.
"Dr. Tate. Dr. Parker." He gestures to a slim, blond man standing to one side of him. "My associate, Dr. Anderson."
"You wanted to talk to us about our work at the lab?" Walter asks carefully, taking his place behind his desk and gesturing to the two chairs in front of him.
"Yes," Marcus responds, taking the one chair and motioning Sloan to the other one. Ed perches on a small table nearby, watching Marcus warily, while Marcus's associate steps back into a corner, his posture attentive. "I wanted to ask you about the status of your gene therapy experiment."
Seeing Ed's flash of reaction, Walter shakes his head imperceptibly and leans forward. "That project is under review at the moment," he says smoothly. "Why do you ask?"
Marcus looks at him pointedly. "Walter, let's not play games with each other. You know my opposition to Dr. Tate's experiment .... I have voiced it repeatedly. Developing new weapons, however non-lethal, is not the answer."
Walter moves to speak, but Marcus holds up his hand. "But," he continues, "you and Dr. Tate have been very persuasive in convincing me that doing nothing is not the answer either. There are elements in my species who won't accept peace under any conditions, and many of them, unfortunately, are in positions of power. As long as they remain in place, new weapons will be developed by our side, and used against yours."
"I assume you have a proposal to make?" Walter asks, his gaze intent.
"I do." Marcus nods. "A cooperative effort. Your lab joining forces with mine to stop those among my species intent on wiping out the human race."
"How do we do that?" Sloan asks.
"By stopping them before they can set their plans in motion," he replies, turning to her. "The peace movement has supporters in all of our species' major labs who send us information, keep us up to date on the latest experiments. If we know what's coming, we can fight to stop it more effectively. What we want you to do is work with us to defuse each new weapon they come up with."
"Why do you need us?" Ed interjects. "Your species is supposed to be so much smarter than us. Why the need for human scientists?"
"You're right, Dr. Tate," Marcus acknowledges. "We could do this on our own. But your participation would give us legitimacy with your species. As it is now, they see us as the enemy. But with human scientists of your calibre on our side -- the very scientists who first uncovered our existence -- your leaders would take us more seriously, realize that some of us do want coexistence and cooperation. And your association with Tom Daniels, one of the Chosen, gives you legitimacy with my people."
"In this arrangement, we would be dependent on you for information," Walter says searchingly. "Who would have the ultimate authority over what decisions are made based on that information?"
"That would be subject to negotiation," Marcus replies. "Our goal here is not domination, it is cooperation. We want to work with you, not over you."
"But if we disagreed .... " Walter prompts him.
"We would set up some mechanism by which such disagreements would be settled." Marcus leans forward, his calm demeanor edged for the first time with a sign of impatience. "Walter, we are offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. To work with equipment far beyond what your own species has been capable of developing .... at a level of scientific thought you could only imagine. I would think you would jump at the chance."
"It seems to me I've heard those words before," Ed said pointedly. "From Dr. Ian Copeland. You remember him .... the guy who tried to unleash the Spanish flu?"
Marcus flushes at the comparison, but his voice is level as he turns to Walter. "Obviously you need to discuss this among yourselves. You can contact me once you've made your decision. I urge you to consider this proposal seriously, and put past events behind you."
Turning to Ed, he adds, "I know that it's difficult to trust. It is as hard for us as it is for you. But without it, we're headed for war, and neither side will win. Remember that when you consider your decision."
Nodding politely to Sloan and Walter, he and his associate leave as quietly as they came.
"What do you think?" Ed says.
"I don't know what to think," Walter says thoughtfully. "He's right .... it's a chance to work for peace, with technology we could only dream about. But at what cost?"
"What do you mean?" Sloan asks with a frown.
"We only have Marcus's word that his information is solid. That his intentions are to work with us, not against us. I know his reputation is good, but I'd feel a lot better if I had Tom's input on this. When will he be back?"
Sloan checks her watch. "Not for several hours yet."
"Then I say we put off any decisions until we've talked to him. Seen what he has to say. And better yet, have him sit in on a meeting with Marcus," Walter says, rising to end their impromptu meeting. "Marcus dealt in good faith with us in rescuing Tom. But this proposal of his seems too good to be true, and I'm not prepared to move on it until I know more."
Tom feels unaccountably nervous as he waits in a secluded area of a park near Shane's home. He's puzzled by it .... he's faced countless situations far more dangerous than this, a meeting with an 11-year-old boy, but never before has so much seemed to be at stake. He has the chance, he hopes, of saving a child from going through the same experience that he did. The brainwashing, the endless training, the isolation, the loneliness. And the loss of self most of all, a concept he wouldn't have understood before meeting Sloan.
He's aware of their approach before they come into view, and realizes this won't be easy. Shane's determination is clear, and so is his brother's fear. Trevor Baker doesn't want to be here; his anxiety burrows its way into Tom's senses, as well as his reluctance.
When Trevor finally appears, Shane at his side, Tom feels his heart catch. Trevor is small for a boy his age, and delicately built. He has Shane's fair looks and the same way of ducking his head in times of discomfort, and he stays close to his brother's side as the older boy walks up to Tom.
"Trevor," Shane says encouragingly, "this is Tom."
"Hi Trevor," Tom says, holding his hand out to the boy. "It's good to meet you."
"Mr. Daniels," Trevor says, nodding his head and shaking Tom's hand briefly.
"Call me Tom," Tom says, trying to put the boy at ease, but he remains silent, watching him carefully.
"Trevor, do you know why you're here?" Tom asks, lowering himself to sit on his haunches in the hope of making some connection with the boy.
"Shane asked me to talk to you," the boy replies unwillingly.
Tom nods his head, and prompts him gently. "Shane has told me that you'll be going to a chameleon training base in a few days. He was worried about you, and wondered if this is something you want to do."
"It's an honor to be chosen as a chameleon," Trevor says quickly. "I'm very lucky."
"Are you?" Tom gives the boy an encouraging smile. "What do you know about the program?"
"I know that chameleons do important work for our species. That they make it safe for the rest of us."
"Do you know how they do that?" Tom asks.
Trevor hesitates, his eyes flashing to his brother's. "They're like soldiers, my father says. They fight against our enemies, and protect our leaders."
"Is that something you think you'd like to do?"
"It's very important work," Trevor responds. "And it will bring honor to our family, especially after ...." Catching himself, he stumbles to a halt, his eyes flashing again to his older brother.
"After my leaving," Shane finishes for him.
"Yes." Trevor ducks his head uncomfortably. "What you did hurt Father and our family very much. My acceptance into the training program will help to restore our honor."
"Do you understand why Shane left?" Tom asks Trevor searchingly.
He shakes his head mutely at first, and then raises his eyes to Tom's. "Father says that it's because of you. That you confused him, made him think that what our species does is wrong. He says you're a traitor."
Tom finds a part of himself amazed that it can still hurt, to hear members of his own species condemn him so completely. It's even more painful hearing it come from someone so young, but he knows the words are not the boy's own. "Is that what you think?" he asks gently.
"Yes." Trevor nods his head with certainty. "What you did was wrong. You turned against us."
"Trevor," Shane says warningly, but Tom stops him before he can continue, reaching out to touch his arm. "No, Shane," he responds, "Trevor is entitled to his opinion, just as you are to yours."
Turning back to the small boy, Tom gives him a small smile. "What I did, Trevor, was decide to make my own choices. To live my life the way I thought I should, not the way I was told to. Can you understand that?"
The boy remains silent, his eyes on Tom's.
"Shane has made his own choice as well, to do what he feels is right. And what he wants to do now is make sure that you get the same chance .... to do what you think is best for yourself. He's worried that this chameleon program may not be what you really want."
Trevor shakes his head emphatically. "No," he insists. "It's what I want. It's what's best for the family. For our species."
"Trevor," Tom says carefully, feeling his way, "did you know that I was a chameleon? That I went through the same training program that you will?"
"You were one of the best .... Shane told me."
Tom shrugs slightly. "I don't know about that. But I do know that it was a very hard program to go through. You don't get to see your family or your friends. And sometimes you're asked to do things that are very difficult."
"But it's important work," Trevor insists, his voice rising slightly. "That's what Father says."
"Trevor .... " Tom begins, but the boy cuts him off, turning to his brother. "Shane, I want to go home. I don't want to talk to him any more."
"Trevor," Shane says desperately, "I brought you here because I thought Tom could help you. You don't have to go through with this .... you can come with us, stay with us and do what you want, not what Father tells you to."
"No," Trevor says, shaking his head. "I have to go back. It's all set .... I leave in two days."
"Trevor," Tom says gently, reaching out to try to soothe the boy, "you don't have to do this. Not if you don't want to."
"No." The boy pulls back from his touch, tugging on Shane's arm. "I want to do this." Turning to Shane, he looks at him pleadingly. "You don't understand. You think Father's making me do this, but he's not. I'm not like you .... I *believe* in what our species must do, and I want to do my part. Please, Shane. I want to go home."
Shane looks at Tom for help, his eyes wide with distress, but Tom shakes his head, standing slowly. "You heard him, Shane," he says levelly. "He wants to do this."
"But .... " Shane protests.
"We agreed that it would be up to Trevor to decide," Tom reminds him gently. "And he has. Take him home now, and I'll wait here for you."
"Please, Shane," Trevor says again, tugging on the older boy's arm.
"All right," Shane says finally, his shoulders slumping a little in defeat. "I'll take you home." Turning to look at Tom before he leaves, he says quietly, "I may be a few minutes. I want to say good-bye."
"Take your time," Tom says gently, touching his shoulder for an instant. "I'll be here when you're ready."
Watching them leave, the two figures slowly walking away in the late afternoon sun, Tom catches himself wondering what he was like at that age. What he had thought of his mother's plans for him. He remembers being taken, remembers not wanting to go, but beyond that there's nothing. They took his memories away from him along with his will, and his freedom.
But he survived, and all he can hope now is that Trevor is strong enough to do the same. The one hurt most at the moment is Shane, unable to accept his species plans for him and now forced to watch his brother pay the price. Tom closes his eyes for a moment, wishing Sloan were here with him. She would know what to say or do to help Shane through this. She's not, though, and it's up to him to try to help Shane understand.
Walking slowly to a nearby park bench, he sits down and prepares to wait, for as long as it takes.
Sloan is waiting for them when they finally get back, and her welcoming smile dies at the sight of Shane's face. He looks haunted and stands in the middle of the living room uncertainly, as though unsure what to do. Her eyes fly to Tom's in concern, and he shakes his head imperceptibly, moving to one side to drop his jacket on a chair.
"Trevor decided to stay?" she asks Shane gently, not sure what to do.
He finally looks at her and nods silently. "He .... " His voice breaks for a moment, and he ducks his head slightly. "He didn't want to come with us," he explains finally. Looking around the apartment, he stops to think for a minute, and then seems to come to some kind of decision.
"I should go," he says, looking first at Sloan, then at Tom. "I appreciate what you did .... trying to help me get Trevor out."
"But where will you go?" Sloan protests, her eyes darting to Tom's again in concern. "Back to where I was staying. I don't think my father will bother me now. Trevor will tell him what I did -- what we did," he says, nodding at Tom, " -- and he'll realize that I won't be coming back."
"But .... " Sloan says helplessly, looking to Tom for guidance.
"Shane, I think it's best if you stay here for now," Tom finally says, moving forward to stand at the boy's side. "I know you think your father will leave you alone, but Sloan and I would feel better if we knew you were nearby."
"But I've imposed too much already .... "
"It's no imposition," Tom assures him, looking at him steadily. "In fact, you'd be doing me a favor. I've been worried about Sloan. I'm afraid the man who held me before will come to get me back, and that he'll use Sloan to do it. I can't be around her all the time, and I'd feel better knowing that you were here when I'm not."
Shane looks at him in surprise as Tom's words sink in. "You think I could help?" he asks uncertainly.
"I do," Tom says intently. "You'd be able to sense any danger ahead of time, and make sure she's safe. Will you stay, and do that for me?"
Shane glances at Sloan, and then back at Tom, and then nods his head shyly. "I will," he promises
Watching the two of them, Sloan feels a sense of relief wash over her, and blesses Tom for being wise enough to give Shane a reason to stay. She can't bear the thought of him going back to his room alone, not after the loss he's just suffered.
"In that case," she says, walking over to put her arm around Tom, "I may just be forced to break down and buy a real couch. I can't have my bodyguard twisted up a like a pretzel each morning, now can I?" And is relieved to see a fleeting grin on Shane's face before he looks away. It's a start, she thinks.
Seconds before Sloan's buzzer rings, Tom and Shane raise their heads in concern, both sensing a threat outside the door. "Trouble," Shane breathes, looking Tom's way.
"What?" Sloan asks, a chill of fear hitting her, and Shane looks at her apologetically. "It's my father. He must have followed me here .... known that I was staying with you."
Sloan looks at Tom in alarm and he motions her to stay seated before walking to the door to check the security camera. Turning back to Shane and Sloan, he nods his head encouragingly, and then unlocks and opens the door.
Charles Baker's mouth tightens slightly at the sight of Tom, and his eyes flick past him to find his son, rising from the chair he was sitting in. "Mr. Daniels," he says pleasantly, extending his hand. "I'm Charles Baker, Shane's father."
"Mr. Baker." Shaking his hand, Tom stands back to let the man enter, and then slowly closes the door, listening to Sloan introduce herself. He had known that Baker would come, despite Shane's doubts, and steels himself for what he suspects will be a battle of words. His sense of the man is instant: smooth, controlling, and determined to get his son back no matter what.
"I want to thank you for taking my son in, Dr. Parker," Charles is saying. "It was very kind of you."
"I was glad to do it," Sloan responds with a wary smile. "He's been a good friend to us."
Charles glances at Shane, who has moved to stand at Sloan's side, his eyes watchful. "My only regret is that he's seen fit to draw you into our family problems," Charles says with an apologetic smile, and turns to Shane.
"Son," he adds gently, "I've come to take you home. Get your things, and we can leave these people alone."
"You gave me four days to decide," Shane counters warily. "It's only been two."
"Yes, but that was before I heard about your meeting with Trevor this afternoon," Charles responds patiently. "You forfeited the right to any more time by going behind my back, wouldn't you agree?"
"You lied to me about Trevor," Shane accuses, his eyes distrustful. "You told me that he wouldn't have to go to the training base if I came home. But that's not true, is it? You've got him convinced that he has to go anyway."
Charles looks at Shane with reproach. "I'm not ready to debate my responsibilities as a father before strangers, Shane."
Turning to Tom, he shakes his head with concern. "Mr. Daniels, Trevor told me that you and Shane talked to him this afternoon. I don't appreciate your interference in what is clearly a private matter."
"Shane asked for my help," Tom replies evenly. "He was concerned that you were forcing Trevor into a life that he's not suited for."
"What I'm doing is ensuring that my children fulfill their destinies," That they fight as we all must to ensure the survival of our species. It's a fight that you seem to have abandoned, Mr. Daniels."
"This isn't about the choices I've made, Mr. Baker." Tom stands his ground, well aware of the manipulation behind each polite word. "It's about your sons doing what they think is right."
"That's right," Charles responds thoughtfully. "You believe in choices, don't you, Mr. Daniels? The choice to go against everything you were taught, to side with those who would destroy us" -- his eyes flicker to Sloan -- "and betray those of us who truly believe."
Sloan opens her mouth to protest, but Tom shakes his head warningly, asking her to keep silent.
"I wonder how your family must feel," Charles says with concern, his voice soft, "knowing that one of their own -- a Chosen one, no less -- would turn against them as you have."
"You'll have to ask them," Tom says in measured tones. "Until recently I had no memory of them at all -- that was taken away from me during my training. Just as Trevor's will be taken away from him." He looks at Charles curiously. "How will that make you feel, Mr. Baker? Knowing that your son will no longer remember you?"
"Proud", Charles says promptly. "It would be a sacrifice worthy of our species.
"But it's Shane that we're talking about now," he adds. "I appreciate everything you've tried to do for him. But he is my responsibility, and it's best that he come home with me."
"I think that's for Shane to decide," Tom says evenly. "He's welcome here as long as he wants."
"You don't understand, Mr. Daniels," Charles replies, his pleasant smile still in place, but an edge of steel entering his voice. "This isn't a question of Shane deciding anything. I am his father, I know what's best for him. I'm trusting you to do the same."
"I want to stay here," Shane speaks up, still standing close to Sloan. "With them."
Charles looks at all three of them intently, and then turns his attention back to Tom. "Perhaps you'll reconsider, Mr. Daniels," he says smoothly, "when I remind you that you are a wanted man. Our people are aware of where you live, who you associate with, and have chosen not to move before now. Oh, there was the incident with Lewis," he acknowledges, "but that wasn't sanctioned, not by the Chosen. You've been relatively safe up until now, but all that could change with a word in the right ear."
"And you could drop that word," Tom says with a careful smile.
"Yes," Charles acknowledges simply. "I could."
"Then perhaps I should remind you of my past, Mr. Baker," Tom says softly. "I may have changed my loyalties, but my instincts remain the same. I've been trained to eliminate any threat to my safety, and the safety of those I represent. In this case" -- he nods to Sloan and Shane -- "that includes Dr. Parker and your son. You'd do well to remember that."
His face tightening at the subtle threat, Charles stays silent for a moment, and then looks at his son intently. "You won't come back with me?" he asks.
"No." Shane shakes his head, his eyes troubled.
His eyes hardening, Charles nods abruptly. "So be it."
Tom moves to open the door, and Charles pauses briefly as he passes by him. "A word of warning, Mr. Daniels," he says pleasantly. "You've taken one son from me. I expect you to stay away from the rest of my family.
"If you don't, your threats won't be enough to stop me from doing what I have to," he adds, looking directly at Sloan
Turning back to Tom, he nods a polite farewell. "Mr. Daniels."
When her quarry finally emerges from Sloan Parker's apartment, the Limo Lady is ready for him.
She's had her men follow him ever since seeing him spy on his son's meeting with Sloan Parker, and she has laid her plans carefully. Charles Baker will be the instrument she'll use to keep both Walter Attwood and her superior in the secret faction distracted, and grateful to her. She knows of his obsessive determination to get his son back, and also knows that he will fail. Shane Baker wanted out when she dealt with him, and has had Tom Daniels' protection ever since.
Charles Baker will see Tom as the reason for his failure. That much is evident from her intelligence reports on him. And his desire for revenge will make him malleable to her suggestions as to how.
As he steps out onto the street, she slides her tinted window down and catches his eye, watching the fleeting expression of shock and recognition on his face with satisfaction.
"Mr. Baker," she says levelly. "I trust you know who I am?"
He nods silently. "What do you want with me?" he asks warily.
"I have a proposal for you, Mr. Baker, that will be of benefit to both of us."
"What about?"
"Tom Daniels." Seeing the spark of interest in his eyes, she smiles slightly. "Are you interested?"
Reluctantly curious, he nods again.
"Good," she says, handing him a small card. "Meet me at midnight tonight at this location."
Motioning to her driver to pull away from the curb, she glances back at Charles. "I assure you, Mr. Baker," she says smoothly. "It will be worth your while."
Sloan finds Tom sitting on the edge of the bed, absently rubbing the fingers of one hand over the other, a sure sign of tension.
"What do you think we should do?" she asks him, closing the bedroom doors quietly and moving to sit down beside him. "He hasn't said a word since his father left, but I know it must be eating him up inside."
Tom shakes his head wordlessly. "It's something he has to work through himself," he says finally. "I know what it's like .... leaving everything you've believed in behind. But it's harder for him because he has family to leave behind as well. I didn't .... at least not any family that I could remember."
"Talk to him," she urges softly, putting her hand over his. "Tell him about what you've been through. Maybe it will help."
Straightening, he looks down at their joined hands, and then up at her. "Sloan, I don't know how to do this," he says quietly. "It's hard enough to talk about my own feelings. But Shane's .... " He shakes his head again in frustration.
"You can do it," she says softly, her eyes searching his. "He looks up to you. Listens to you. You're all he has now."
"No," he says, freeing his hand to cup her cheek. "Not all." And leans forward to kiss her gently. "He's got you, too."
In the end, Tom stays close to Shane through the evening, the two of them silently watching television together. If she hadn't been so worried about both of them, Sloan would have smiled at the sight of two members of the new species staring fixedly at a baseball game, their faces solemn.
When Shane finally breaks his silence, the room is in shadows. Sloan has gone to bed, but Tom still sits nearby, patiently waiting.
"Is it true that you don't remember anything about your family?" he asks curiously, his eyes still focused on the television screen.
Tom, caught off guard by the question, hesitates before answering. "Yes," he answers quietly, looking over at Shane. "They take your memories away early on in your training."
"So if you had parents, or brothers and sisters, you wouldn't know them."
"Yes. I did meet my mother once, a few months ago." Tom winces at the memory. "And I found out just recently that I had a brother as well."
"What was she like, your mother?" Shane has turned away from the flickering picture and now faces Tom, his face intent.
Tom glances away for a moment, lost in thought, and finally gives a small shrug. "I really don't know," he confesses. "Much like your father, I think. Completely committed to the struggle. Unable to understand why I couldn't be any more."
"Did she try to talk you out of it?"
Tom turns his gaze back to Shane's, his eyes shadowed. "In a way," he says, flashing back on memories of the cellar, his mother's questions, and the deadly pill she tried to force on him.
"Why do you think we're different?" Shane asks, pain in his voice. "Our parents believe in what they're doing. Everyone around us does. Why can't we?"
Tom tilts his head consideringly as he watches the play of emotions on the boy's face. "Do you regret what you've done?" he asks gently. "That you feel the way you do?"
"Sometimes." Shane looks back at the flickering television picture, his expression strained from the day's events. "It would be so much easier if I didn't."
"But that's not who you are," Tom points out.
"No," Shane replies, and looks back at Tom curiously. "What made you do it .... break away like that?"
Tom shakes his head for a moment, looking down at his hands. "I couldn't do the things I was asked to do any more," he confessed. "I started having these feelings, and they got in the way of my assignments."
"Dr. Parker told me that you were sent to kill her, but that you couldn't," Shane says.
Tom's eyes flash to Shane's in surprise. "She told you that?" he asks, his voice quietly incredulous. Shane nods, and asks, "Is she the reason you left?"
"For the most part, yes," Tom admits, his expression softening. "But I think I would have left eventually, even if I hadn't met her. The emotions that I was feeling were getting stronger, making me question what I'd been taught."
"Do you ever regret what you did, leaving like that?" Shane asks, his face serious.
"No." Tom shakes his head decisively. "It was the right choice for me. I think it is for you, too."
Shane ducks his head for a moment, and then looks back at Tom with a shy smile. "Dr. Parker told me that you still find things confusing at times, the way I do. That maybe we could help each other."
Tom smiles back. "Maybe we could."
Charles Baker is already there and waiting when the dark limousine slowly pulls up. The Limo Lady had planned it that way, determined to set the tenor of the meeting from the start.
Sliding her window down, she watches him approach.
"You said you had a proposal for me?" he asks abruptly. "About Tom Daniels?"
"Yes," she says coolly, opening the door and stepping out to face the man.
"Well, what is it?" he asks impatiently, his self-assurance back in place.
"It's simple," she says steadily, her eyes on his. "You want your son back. I want Tom Daniels. If we work together, we can both get what we want." "Why can't you get Daniels on your own?" he asks suspiciously.
"That's not your concern." She turns slowly, pacing beside the car and forcing him to follow.
"Why should I trust you .... a human?" Charles looks at her with contempt.
"Because I can get you what you want. Your son. Revenge against the man who took him from you."
"I can do that on my own," Charles replies dismissively. "I have connections. I can have Daniels picked up and Shane back home whenever I want."
"Then why haven't you?" she asks pointedly, and watches as his face flushes.
"What do you propose?" he asks finally.
"A meeting. We draw them out, and ambush them. You get Shane. I get Tom."
"Daniels would sense any threat before it happened," Charles says, shaking his head in disagreement.
"Not if the men ambushing him were able to mask their presence." He looks at her in surprise. "Did you think you were the only ones to take advantage of that ability?" she asks sardonically.
"How would we draw them out?"
"Your son Trevor will call them," she says. "Tell them he's changed his mind. They won't be able to resist the chance to meet him."
His eyes narrow. "How do you know about Trevor?"
Her only response is a steady look, and he falls silent for a moment.
Finally, he shakes his head. "I want Daniels. He's interfered in my son's life. Betrayed his species. I want him back with our kind, where he can pay for what he's done."
"That's not negotiable," the Limo Lady says flatly, turning back toward the limousine. "He's mine."
Opening the door of the limousine, she looks back at him. "Tom Daniels will suffer, once he's in our hands. Painfully. And you'll have your son back. That's the deal."
Getting into her car, she glances at him out the open window. "I'll expect your answer by tomorrow morning."
Tom is back in the cage again, the impact of the drugs that they've injected into him doubling him over in pain.
His head swims as he fights for consciousness, and he's only dimly aware of a presence beside him and the sound of sobbing nearby.
Struggling against the pain and the dizziness, he raises his head, searching for the sight of the cage next to him, where Sloan must be.
And sees the figure of a small boy instead. Naked, like himself. Thin, blond, his arms wrapped around himself as he rocks back and forth.
Dropping his head onto his chest, Tom shuts his eyes, and listens to the sound of the boy sobbing. "You fought me so hard."
The voice, from the figure next to him, startles Tom out of his daze, and he looks up into Lewis's face.
Looking over at the boy in the cage, Lewis shakes his head, a smile on his face. "You wouldn't give in," he says with satisfaction. "That's how I knew you'd be the best."
Following his gaze, Tom looks over and watches as white- garbed technicians open the cage door and reach for the boy, pulling on his arms as he fights to get away. Their size overpowers him in the end, and he's held down while they inject a needle into his arm.
Within seconds, the boy is limp, and the technicians lift him onto a waiting gurney and wheel him away.
Tom watches in horror, the sight of the boy's face -- glimpsed during a second in the struggle -- frozen in his mind. It's a face he's seen before, in a battered photograph he'd found at the ruins of the house he grew up in. A photograph he'd posed for years ago, his mother at his side.
Looking up at Lewis, he chokes on his rage. And sees his mentor smile back at him.
"Did you really think you'd get away from me?" he asks softly.
The End
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