Many, many thanks to Sharon, who keeps me honest and whacks me over the head when I make Tom too emotional; to Marruzella, for both reading my scenes and fusses over my health; to Pat, who notices inconsistencies that completely pass me by and who has a crafty mind when it comes to help me plan action scenes; and to Irene, who puts up with my whining when I can't get a scene right.
Disclaimer: The characters and premise of the following piece of fan fiction are not my property. They are solely the creations of those who worked so hard to make "Prey" a reality. I've just borrowed them for a bit, and hopefully have treated them well.
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 2" is my own episode 16 of "Prey", picking up where my episode 15, "Choices. Part 1", left off. Tom has been having nightmares ever since his rescue, and they're turning into flashbacks of his time with Lewis. He's also in danger from the head of the secret faction, who wants him back, and the Limo Lady, who .... caught now between the faction and Walter Attwood .... plots to lure Tom into a trap. For new members to the list, you can find my previous chapters, 13 through 15, on Tory's fan fiction page, or by contacting me at lburke@globalserve.net. And for those who have been patiently waiting for this chapter, I have to confess that it was meant to be the conclusion of a two-part story, but has turned into the second of a three-part story. But I promise, I'm already working on Chapter 17.
"Tell me what happened, Tom," Sloan Parker says urgently, hurrying her steps to keep up with his fleeing figure.
"Why did you rush out of the apartment like that? What's wrong?"
Tom Daniels slows his steps at the sound of fear in her voice, knowing that he's scaring her. But he can't stop .... something, some feeling inside, keeps him moving, and so he tucks her arm in his and keeps going, walking mindlessly through the dark streets.
Sloan catches a glimpse of his face in a passing streetlamp and falls silent, the tension in his expression communicating itself to her in waves.
Her first realization that something was wrong had come with Tom's sudden leap out of bed. She'd become used to his nightmares, and had learned to sleep lightly enough to be there for him when he couldn't fight his way out of his dreams himself.
But this was different. His frantic movements to get dressed, the complete silence with which he did it, had struck fear in her heart. The only sound in the shadowed bedroom had been the rasp of his panicky breathing, and she'd known suddenly that this latest dream was different than before, bad enough to drive Tom away from her if she didn't stop him.
Seeing him reach for his jacket, she'd scrambled into the nearest clothes she could find, glancing up to see him open the bedroom doors and rush through the apartment. If he'd heard Shane's startled exclamation, he hadn't show it, and had been out the front door while she was still hunting for her coat and keys.
"What's wrong?" Shane had blurted out, jumping up from the oversized chair where he'd been sleeping and clutching a blanket to his chest.
"I don't know," she'd called back, racing out the door. "Lock the door after me .... we'll be back as soon as we can."
That was twenty minutes ago, and they're still walking through the empty streets, Tom grim and silent beside her. The arm he has tucked inside hers is taut with tension, and she clasps his cold hand tightly, trying to give him some of her warmth and comfort.
It seems like hours before he finally slows to a halt, his legs seeming to stop of their own accord. Tentatively, she squeezes his hand and moves to stand in front of him.
"Tom, you're scaring me," she confesses. "What is it?"
His eyes suddenly focus on hers, take in her rumpled appearance -- tousled curls, unbuttoned coat, and bare feet hastily shoved into shoes -- and he pulls her into his arms with a gasp.
"I'm sorry," he says, his voice muffled in her hair. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
"What happened?" she asks again.
Pulling back, Tom shakes his head helplessly. "I can't .... " he says hesitantly. "I can't put it into words."
"Is it about the man in the suit? Did you dream about him again?"
"No," he says, looking away, his face etched in pain. "It was about Lewis."
"What about Lewis?"
Tom's eyes turn back to hers. "Sloan, I think something happened to me when I was with Lewis. Something bad."
Looking away again, he searches for a way to explain what has driven him out into the night. "I don't remember anything about the early years I spent at Lewis's training base," he says hesitantly. "Maybe it's because they wiped my memory clean somewhere along the way, I don't know, but those early years are a blank. Now, though .... "
"Now some of it's coming back?" she asks gently.
Closing his eyes, he nods wordlessly.
"You said that when he showed up in your dream before, standing next to your cage, it seemed familiar somehow," she guesses. "Do you know why?"
"Yes." Tom opens his eyes and looks at her bleakly. "I think he kept me in a cage himself. Or something like it." He shakes his head in frustration. "It's hard to know what's a real memory, and what's just part of the dream."
"Oh, Tom," Sloan says helplessly, wrapping him in her arms. "How could he do that?"
Tom holds on to her tightly. "He said that I fought him," he says quietly, his face pressed against hers. "That I fought against the training. That's how he knew I'd be the best."
"How do you know all this?"
"In my dream tonight, there was a boy in a cage next to mine. Crying. When they came to take him away, I saw his face for a second .... just long enough to recognize him." Flinching slightly, he corrects himself. "To recognize *me*."
"What were they doing to him?" she asks fearfully.
"I don't know." Tom pulls back and looks at her out of shadowed eyes. "That's what scares me .... wondering what they were going to do to him. To me."
Reaching up to cup his cheek, Sloan tries to reassure him. "Whatever they did, you survived," she says softly.
"Did I?" he asks doubtfully. Hesitating a moment, he reaches up to take her hand and hold it in his. "I need to know what happened to me, Sloan," he says, his eyes searching hers. "All of it."
"I know you do," she responds with a tremulous smile. "And I'll do whatever to takes to help you."
Slipping his arm around her waist, he touches his forehead to hers for a moment. "I'm counting on that," he says softly.
The phone call comes just minutes before her superior is scheduled to arrive at his west coast office for a series of meetings with members of the secret faction.
The Limo Lady has been kept waiting in an anteroom, her request for a few moments with him agreed to with reservations. His suspicion of her has been clear to everyone involved, and she is no longer afforded the respect she's used to, a fact that continues to grate.
She has kept her outward serenity through it all, though, determined to act as though nothing is wrong. And she answers the phone with her normal command, knowing that eyes and ears are focused on her, even in this empty room.
"Yes?" she answers smoothly.
"I accept your proposal," Charles Baker says without introduction. "But I want guarantees first. My son is kept safe during the ambush, and handed over to me. You get Tom Daniels, but you guarantee me that he will suffer."
"That can be arranged."
Her eyes roving the room, she wonders where the listening devices are planted. The faction deals in the latest technology, and is forever changing its monitoring system. She is counting on them picking up the transmission of this call .... it will bolster her case, and convince her superior that her information is sound.
"When will it happen?" he asks tensely.
"When everything is in place. Is Trevor ready to make the call?"
"Yes," Charles Baker says, his voice taking on a self-important edge. "My son knows his duty."
"Well, at least one of them does." Her eyes flicker toward the door at the sound of her superior's arrival in the outside hallway. "I'll be in touch."
Hanging up on the man's protests, she pockets her cell phone and watches the door open. "He will see you when he has a moment," says her superior's young assistant. Checking his watch, he shrugs slightly. "He gave no indication, though, as to when that might be."
The Limo Lady acknowledges his words with a nod, and stays seated as the door softly closes. She's an expert at games like this, and has no intention of reacting to the obvious insult behind the indefinite wait. Once she's made her move, attitudes will change.
Ed is waiting for them in the lab when they arrive, Shane in tow. All three look tired after their long night, and Ed raises his eyes at the sight of their weary faces.
"Don't ask," Sloan says quietly, drawing him aside for a minute.
"Okay, I won't," he says agreeably. "What's the kid doing here?"
"He's going to be staying close by for a while," she says, motioning Shane forward. "Shane, you didn't really get a chance to meet Ed the other day you were here. He's a good friend of mine who also works here. Ed, this is Shane, a friend of Tom's .... he's going to be staying with us, and keeping an eye on me when Tom's not around."
"Nice to meet you," Shane says formally, extending his hand.
"Nice to meet you too," Ed says, grinning as he leans forward to shake Shane's hand. "So you're going to be keeping an eye on her, are you? Good luck .... she's got a mind of her own."
Shane grins back, ducking his head a little, and Sloan watches him with amusement. "I want to talk to Walter for a minute before he meets with Marcus and Tom," she says, turning to him. "I'll leave you here with Ed."
Giving them all a quick smile, she leaves, and Tom turns to Ed. "Sloan says you needed to see me?" he asks, his manner a little distracted.
"Yeah," Ed agrees, reaching to open a cabinet and take out a small specimen bottle. "Did she fill you in on our plans to investigate this whole question of your species' super sperm?"
Tom nods silently, his mind already racing ahead to the meeting Walter has asked him to attend with Marcus. He has plans to raise an issue of his own at that meeting, one that might help him shed some light on his past.
"Well, then .... uh .... you'll need this," the lanky scientist says awkwardly, holding the bottle out to Tom.
Raising an eyebrow, Tom takes the bottle from him and looks at Ed questioningly.
"For the sample." Ed nods at the bottle encouragingly.
"Oh." Tom nods his thanks, and stands there looking at the bottle quietly. Standing beside him, Shane shifts restlessly.
"You might need some .... uh .... help with that," Ed adds, his eyes darting around the room. "A video, maybe? I brought one in, just in case."
Tom lifts his head to look at Ed, his eyebrow rising slightly, and Shane turns away, biting his lip.
"Thanks," Tom says carefully. "I think I can manage."
"Oh," Ed says, flushing. "Well, then .... good." Nodding his head to a nearby room, he adds, "Take your time."
Tom, turning to leave, looks back to give Ed a steady look. "Don't worry," he said gently, a glint in his eye. "I won't be long."
"Oh," Ed says blankly, his eyes following Tom as he quietly enters the nearby room and shuts the door. "Well .... "
With Tom gone, Ed slumps down on the nearest lab stool with a sigh of relief. Of all the things he'd pictured himself doing with Tom, this wasn't one of them, he thinks ruefully.
Looking up, he catches Shane moving over to one of the windows, his back to him, his shoulders shaking.
'Great,' Ed thinks to himself. 'First I'm a fertility therapist. Now I'm a comedian.'
When she is finally ushered into the conference room, it's during a break in the meeting and all but one of its participants have moved to an adjoining room. Only her superior is left, his back to her as he gazes out over the city.
She waits for him to speak, but he remains silent, letting her know of his displeasure at her insistence on the meeting. His only acknowledgement of her presence, in the end, is a slight turn of his head in her direction.
"I can get you Tom Daniels," she says evenly, her voice sounding hollow in the long, low-ceilinged room.
His head swivels slowly in her direction, his face impassive. But she has seen the slight stiffening of his body, and knows that she has captured his interest.
"He'll walk into an ambush tonight," she continues. "You should have him back within twenty-four hours."
Finally, slowly, he turns to face her.
"How?"
"He'll think he's meeting a boy, a dominant. Someone he wants to save from their chameleon program," she says mockingly. "My men will be there instead."
"And the boy?"
"A tool." She looks at him steadily. "And a prize. His father is an influential dominant; his connections could be useful to us."
His eyes never leave hers.
"A call came through for you while you were waiting," he says softly.
"The father."
"He's unaware of your plans for him," he suggests.
"Completely."
Pausing for a moment, he finally nods his head. "Keep me apprised."
Turning to leave, she is caught in place by his voice.
"This doesn't end it, you know. The suspicions." He pauses for a moment. "There are still too many questions about Tom Daniels' escape."
She turns back to face him, waiting patiently. Knowing that there's more.
"Success tonight could mitigate those suspicions," he says, his voice flat. "Failure .... would not."
A turn of his head back to the window is her signal to leave, and plan the ambush that could save her career.
"I'm surprised you would feel the need for this, Walter," Marcus says in mild protest, watching as Tom takes his seat in Walter's office. Walter looks at Marcus, his face impassive. "Let me speak plainly," he said, taking his seat behind his desk and leaning forward, his elbows on the desktop. "We functioned for some time under the aegis of someone we now know to have been duplicitous. Who used our research for her own purposes, and put us all at risk. I don't intend to do that again, no matter how tempting the offer."
Marcus opens his mouth to protest, but Walter raises his hand to stop him. "You've been very outspoken in your opposition to our past work," he points out. "I would hope that you would allow us an equal measure of honesty in expressing our reservations about your proposal."
Marcus turns to Tom. "And I gather you're here to sense the veracity of my offer," he says tartly.
Tom's eyes flicker from Marcus to the still figure in the corner, and then back again. Marcus's assistant, introduced as Dr. Anderson, had given Tom a brief nod of welcome and then melted into the background, his eyes watchful. "I'm here as an adviser to Walter," Tom corrects carefully. "His concerns are valid, and he wants to have all the information he can before making a decision."
Marcus pauses for a moment, his eyes thoughtful, and then nods his acquiescence. "What questions do you have?" he asks, looking back and forth between Walter and Tom.
"These sources of yours," Walter says, looking at him steadily. "The ones you have planted in your species' labs. How sure can you be of the accuracy of their information?"
"As you know, we all have the ability to sense emotions," Marcus responds. "Any lie on their part would be immediately obvious to us."
"What about masking?" Tom asks, his eyes intent.
Marcus waves his hand dismissively. "An overrated ability touted by the Lewises of our species. I'm not convinced that it's as effective as they say, or as undetectable."
A slight movement by the man in the corner catches Tom's attention, but Dr. Anderson's face remains impassive, his eyes steady, and Tom switches his attention back to Marcus. "I would want to be present at any meetings you have with them," he proposes. "As Walter's representative, to see for myself the kind of people you're dealing with."
"That can be arranged," Marcus agrees. "What else?"
"Your decisions as to how to counteract your species' new weapons," Walter says. "We want equal input."
Marcus's expression remains calm, but his eyes flicker slightly with impatience. "You seem to think this proposal is yours to shape in any way you want," he points out. "The truth is that we came to you."
Walter nods evenly. "We haven't forgotten. And we appreciate the trust you've put in us. But we aren't about to ally ourself with anyone until we know we have some measure of control over what decisions are made. The survival of our species is at stake .... that's not something we take lightly."
Marcus watches Walter steadily for a moment, his eyes penetrating, and finds his gaze returned with an equal measure of determination. Finally, he nods his head in agreement. "We can come to some agreement as to the decision-making process that gives each side an equal measure of control," he concedes. "Anything else?"
"How will you keep our cooperation a secret from your species' leaders?" Walter asks, his face creasing with concern. "If you put no credence in masking, how do you function in their presence without detection?"
"We keep out of sight," Marcus says simply. "Our sources are placed in mid-level positions of responsibility, out of the view of those the leaders would deal with. They observe from a distance, and up to this point have made no move to subvert the work they're engaged in."
"That's where we would come in," Tom guesses, his eyes on Marcus.
"Yes," the older man agrees. "We can't tip our hand .... it would endanger our entire peace movement."
"So any disruption of their experiments would have to look like naturally-occurring failures in their protocols, or sabotage by outside forces," Walter surmises. "In which case, we would get the blame." "Yes." Marcus looks at Walter frankly. "That's your primary objective, isn't it? To stop them any way you can. They would expect it of you, and automatically attach the blame to you. And our people would remain in place, undetected."
"That puts our people most at risk," Tom points out.
"You don't think my people would be doubly at risk if they're caught?" Marcus counters. "You know what our species is like .... there would be no mercy for them."
Tom acknowledges Marcus's point with a nod, and turns his gaze to Walter. "I think we've raised the questions we're most concerned with," Walter says smoothly, glancing from Tom to Marcus and back again. "Tom, do you have anything to add?"
Tom hesitates, looking at them both carefully. "I want to raise an issue separate from Marcus's proposal," he says finally. Looking at Marcus, he adds, "It's a personal matter that I need to discuss with you and Walter, privately."
There's silence in the office for a moment, both Marcus and Walter looking at each other in concern. Neither one has ever heard Tom refer to a personal problem or appear to ask for help, and the fact that he has now indicates how serious this is. Turning to his assistant, Marcus nods his dismissal, and the man leaves the room silently, shutting the door behind him.
Rising to stand beside Walter's desk, his arms crossed in front of him, Tom lowers his gaze to Walter's desktop and frowns in concentration. "I need to know about my past .... my time with Lewis," he says intently. "The problem is that my memory has been wiped clean." Looking up, he studies each of the two men in turn. "I was hoping that one of you might know of a way to help me remember."
Glancing uneasily at Marcus, Walter says, "I would suggest the regression therapy we tried once before, but as you'll recall that had near-disastrous results."
"That's the problem," Tom responds. "Lewis programmed us to literally turn off when we're pressed on certain questions .... to die rather than answer." Turning to Marcus, he asks, "Do you know of a way of overriding that programming?"
"It's possible," Marcus admits. Hesitating for a moment, he adds, "What is it that you're searching for?"
Tom looks at him silently for a moment, and turns to pace to the nearby window. "I believe that Lewis .... did something to me during my training," he responds at last, his face troubled. "Something that would never have been sanctioned by the Chosen."
"What makes you think this?" Marcus asks probingly, and is startled by the bleakness in Tom's gaze as he turns to him.
"I've been having nightmares," Tom says, his voice subdued. "Flashbacks." His expression darkens. "I need to know what happened."
Silenced by Tom's intensity, Marcus studies his face for a moment and then nods. "I'll see what can be done," he promises, and rises, finally, to end the meeting. "Walter," he says, reaching out to shake his hand. "Tom," he adds, shaking his hand as well. "I'll be in touch as soon as I have something for you."
With Marcus gone, Walter sits down again and watches as Tom leans against the window, his face shadowed. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asks quietly.
"No." Tom's answer is abrupt, automatic, and then, realizing that, he lifts his head to give Walter a small smile. "Thank you, though."
Walter gives him a small nod, and then returns to business. "What do you think of our friend's proposal?" he asks curiously. "Could you sense anything?"
Tom tilts his head in thought. "He's sincere," he says consideringly. "He believes in what he's telling you."
"But?" Walter prompts him, hearing a note of hesitation in his voice.
Tom turns to look at him, shaking his head slightly. "His assistant, Dr. Anderson. He's got reservations, doubts about what Marcus is doing. Marcus may think his sources are secure, but Anderson doesn't .... and he doesn't dismiss masking as easily as Marcus does."
"Is Anderson on our side?" Walter asks with a frown. "Or could he be a plant for the more militant dominants?"
Tom pauses for a moment to think, and shakes his head again. "I think he's on our side. But I want to keep an eye on him."
Walter leans back in his chair, steepling his hands before him. "What are your thoughts on Marcus's proposal?" he asks. "Is it worth the risk?"
"Let me check out his sources first," Tom says thoughtfully, moving to sit in one of the chairs facing Walter's desk. "If they're reliable, then yes, it's worth the risk."
Leaning forward, he looks at Walter intently. "We both know that people like Copeland and Lewis won't accept peace at any price. The only way to stop them is to fight back, and this is one way to do it. With the knowledge and technology that Marcus is willing to share with you, you could cripple their research programs, disable whatever weapons they come up with."
"If his information is reliable," Walter says heavily. Studying Tom's face carefully, he asks, "What about Ed's gene therapy experiment?"
Tom shrugs slightly, his gaze dropping. "What happened to me in the cage changed things. Ed is questioning himself, and so is Sloan." Raising his eyes to Walter's, he adds, "I don't think either one is prepared to find themselves in the position of experimenting on people, even members of my species."
Walter nodded his agreement, and looked at Tom curiously. "How about you?"
Tom studies his hands again, and shakes his head ruefully. "I was trained to do whatever it takes to accomplish my goal. The thought of using Ed's experiment to win shouldn't bother me. But after what's happened .... I find that it does."
Walter looks down the papers in front of him for a long moment, and then sighs. "I don't think any of us are ready to do that, however much we intended to," he says heavily. Looking up at Tom, he studies his face for a moment, and then nods decisively. "Accepting Marcus's proposal would seem to be the only answer," he says. "Check out his sources .... see what you think. If they're solid, I'll let him know that we accept."
By the time Ed sticks his head in Sloan's door, it's late afternoon, and the lab has fallen silent. All the lab assistants have gone home, but Sloan is still studying her data on the new species, determined to get it organized for whatever comes. Tom has filled her in on his meeting with Walter, and she suspects she'll soon be working with Marcus's people and will need to be prepared.
"Hey," Ed says with a friendly grin, leaning in the doorway. "All alone? Where are your bodyguards?"
"Hiding somewhere," she answers with a grin of her own. "Tom's going over some lists of names Marcus has sent him, and I suspect Shane's found a couch somewhere to sleep on. I think he finds my chair a little cramped at night."
Ed wanders into her office and perches on the edge of one of her chairs. "I need another sample from Tom," he says ruefully. "Do you think you could be the one to ask him this time?"
"Another one?" Sloan asks curiously. "Why?"
"Problems with the first one," he says, shaking his head. "I should have expected it .... he's still got drugs in his system from his time in the cage, I know he's not sleeping. His system's probably just off, but I need to be sure."
"What kind of problems?" she asks with a frown, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her shoulders tiredly.
"His sperm count is unusually low," he responds with a small shrug. "But I wouldn't worry about it, Sloan .... not until we look at another sample."
"Maybe," she says, her eyes flashing back to her computer screen. "We don't know, though, Ed. We're dealing with a different species here, one that -- from what we've seen so far -- is incredibly fertile, to say the least."
Ed frowns, nodding his head in agreement. "You're right," he says slowly. "How about I do a physical exam as well .... just to make sure everything's in working order?"
"I'd feel better if you did," she says with a relieved smile.
"But you're the one who gets to tell him," Ed says, laughter in his voice. "I'm still recovering from this morning's little encounter. That look of his really unnerves me at times."
"I'll ask him now," she says, turning off her computer and reaching for her purse. "I want to get him home a little earlier tonight .... he's still pretty tired."
"Are things any better?" Ed asks with concern. When her eyes flash to his, he shrugs lightly. "You all looked pretty ragged this morning when you came in."
Sitting back in her chair, she glances away, her face troubled. "He's starting to remember things," she responds with concern, " .... about his time with Lewis." Looking up at him, her eyes wide, she adds, "Frightening things. If what he says is true, Lewis is a monster."
Ed shrugs lightly. "Hey, we knew that already," he says, his eyes on hers, and frowns when she shakes her head vehemently. "Not this," she says, almost to herself. "This is much, much worse."
Ed shifts to sit down in the chair, leaning forward intently. "I guess the question should be, how are you holding up during all this?" he asks pointedly. "It can't be easy, watching him suffer."
Her eyes flash to his, and she shakes her head wearily. "It's not," she confesses. "I can't help him with this, and it's tearing me apart watching him go through it. I just keep hoping that it will be worth it in the end, that his questions will be answered, and he can put his past behind him."
"And have a life with you?" he finishes for her, a lopsided smile on his face.
"Yes," she agrees, looking at him closely. "How does that make you feel, Ed? I know you haven't trusted him much, or thought that it was a good idea to get involved with him."
"Yeah," Ed acknowledges, ducking his head slightly, "I've had my doubts. We still don't know what we're dealing with here, Sloan .... this new species scares me. But Tom's different, I admit it. And after meeting Marcus and Shane, I'm starting to think that not all of them are like Lewis and Copeland. That maybe we can coexist .... at least with some of them."
"What do you think of Marcus's proposal?" she asks him curiously. "Walter and Tom think it may be worth taking him up on it."
His eyes growing thoughtful, Ed shrugs slightly. "The thought of working with all those new toys, and gaining the knowledge they have .... I can't say it doesn't excite me. I just want to be sure it's the right thing to do."
"Well," Sloan says, rising from her chair , "that's what Tom's making sure of now."
"Speaking of Tom," he says, rising to stand beside her and giving her a grin, "send him my way before you guys leave, so that he can give me another sample. Oh, and tell him to be gentle with me this time. Being the butt of a joke between two dominants was hard enough the first time around."
"I can't believe you're making me do this," Sloan grumbles good-naturedly, helping Shane maneuver her new, full-length couch into the corner of her living room.
Tom gives her a teasing grin from his perch on one of her kitchen stools. "You said it yourself," he reminds her. "You can't have your bodyguard twisted up like a pretzel each morning after sleeping on that chair of yours."
"I like that chair!" she protests defensively.
"Obviously you've never slept in it," he responds, shaking his head and grinning at Shane. "I'm the one who should be upset .... all those nights that I slept on that chair, you never once offered to buy a new couch for me."
"But you never said anything!" she argues, the corners of her mouth twitching.
Watching Tom and Shane survey the new couch with satisfaction, she's relieved to see the lighthearted expressions on their faces. When they had left the lab, both had been withdrawn, the toll of the last two days clearly etched on their face. On an impulse, on the drive home she'd pulled the car over at the sight of a furniture store, and had dragged her two unwilling companions inside to shop for a couch. They'd let her do all the work at first .... something in their stiff attitudes made her suspect that furniture shopping was a new experience for both of them .... but she soon had Shane stretched out on the ones she was interested in and debating with her over which was the most comfortable. Tom just stood back and watched, his arms folded in front of him, but the softening of his face as he watched Shane get caught up in the excitement of the purchase made her grateful for her impulse. For an hour or two, at least, she'd been able to take their minds off their troubles, and it had been worth the extra charge to have the couch delivered immediately.
"What do we do with the chair?" Shane asks doubtfully, bringing her back from her reverie to find both of them staring at the large flowered chair, now shoved to one side of the room.
"That's your job," she says with a grin. "You figure out where it should go while I call for pizza."
"I can pick one up for you," Shane offers. "Isn't there a pizza place on the corner?"
"Trying to get out of more furniture moving, are you?" she teases, and watches as he ducks his head, grinning to himself. "Okay, you pick up the pizza," she agrees, reaching for her purse, "and we'll figure out what to do about the chair."
Listening to his footsteps clatter down the stairs minutes later, she turns to find Tom smiling at her warmly. "Thank you," he says simply, walking up to touch her cheek. "You've taken his mind off Trevor for a while."
"And how about you?" she asks softly, her answering smile tinged with concern. "Have I taken your mind off your troubles?"
Taking her in his arms, he gives her a gentle, searching kiss. "Yes," he says, his mouth hovering over hers. "I think you have." And curves his lips into a smile as she wraps her arms around his neck and deepens the kiss, the passion she has for him flaring at his touch and this rare chance they have for privacy.
Slipping his hands under the hem of her sweater, he spreads them across the smooth skin of her back, pressing her even closer to him. The contact has her sighing softly into his mouth, and she leans her full weight against him, rubbing gently to increase the sensations their closeness is generating in them both.
Breathless moments later, he tears his mouth from hers and buries his face in her neck, laughing softly. "Shane will be back soon," he says breathlessly. "We have to stop."
"I know," she sighs, her hands clutching him to her. "I know, but I don't want to."
Closing his eyes, he presses a series of open-mouthed kisses to her neck and the curve of her shoulder. "Neither do I," he confesses, and touches his tongue gently to her collarbone, making her gasp.
The sound of Shane's footsteps on the stairs finally separates them, both breathing heavily, their eyes crinkling with laughter as they take in the sight of each other's rumpled clothing and flushed cheeks. Before they can move farther apart, Shane bursts in the door, frowning quizzically. "You didn't lock up behind me," he says reprovingly to Sloan, and then he hesitates as he takes in the sight of their bright eyes and dishevelled clothing. "Ah," he says on a pause, and breaks out in a knowing grin. "I can always go back out for a while. Maybe take a walk around the block?"
"Not with my pizza you won't," Sloan says, grinning back and grabbing for the large box he's carrying. He surrenders it without a fight, and the two of them head to the kitchen table, Shane pausing along the way to open the fridge and take out some sodas. Tom follows them, tucking the hem of his sweater back into the waistband of his trousers as he walks, and Sloan gives him a slow smile as she turns to catch his eye.
Having Shane here has been good for them both, she thinks silently, watching as Tom and Shane bend over the steaming pizza and begin cutting slices. He's given Tom the chance to be with someone of his own kind, and has given her his unswerving loyalty and support. But having a teenaged boy living with them has put a crimp into their private time together. Maybe, when Ed comes up with a solution to their birth-control problems, she can convince him to take Shane to a double-feature at the movies. No, she corrects herself with a grin, taking in the sight of Tom's rumpled hair and the private smile he flashes at her, make that an all-night marathon.
When Charles' call comes through, she's waiting in her office, her limousine idling outside, waiting to take her to a meeting with Walter. Attwood. Perfect timing, she thinks to herself, checking her watch as she reaches for the phone. She has planned this night carefully, and so far Charles has fallen into line. He has taken down everything his son Trevor is to say in his call to Shane, and spent the afternoon rehearsing him. She's also had men watching Sloan Parker's apartment, and has just been told that they appear to be settled in for the evening.
She'll use men drafted from outside her normal security force to be at the site of the ambush itself. She has no intention of being associated in any way with what happens there, and has made sure that nothing .... not even a familiar face among the men stationed there .... will implicate her.
As for herself, she'll be in Walter's office just before the ambush, giving him a warning that will come too late, but without seeming to. What better alibi could she have than the man whose gratitude she intends to earn this night?
"Yes?" she says, answering the phone call expectantly.
"He's ready," Charles reports. "The call will be placed in ten minutes."
"Good. Have him at the site and in place within the half hour."
"I want to be there with him .... " Charles begins, determined to assert his authority, but she cuts him off abruptly.
"No. Tom Daniels is no fool .... he'll sense your presence there and know it's a trap." She rises to pace her office, impatient with the man's constant protests. "Stick to the plan. Wait at your house .... my men will deliver both Trevor and Shane there once Tom is in our hands."
"I want to see Tom Daniels in custody," he demands. "That was the deal."
"The deal was that he'd suffer," she says, biting her words off in her impatience to be gone. "Not that you'd see it happen."
There's an unhappy silence on the other hand of the phone, but she has no intention of coddling the man.
"Follow the plan," she orders him tersely. "You have eight minutes."
Hanging up abruptly, she checks her watch again, and then looks around her office, allowing herself a small surge of anticipation. By this time tomorrow she'll have both her superior and Walter Attwood grateful to her. And she'll have the added satisfaction of knowing that Charles Baker will be at her mercy, his son's fate in her hands.
The last of the pizza eaten, Sloan puts Shane to work finding a new home for her chair. "You stay put," she warns Tom when he moves to stand and help. "Your shoulder's still mending."
She soon discovers that dominant men are as unused to furniture arrangement as they are to shopping, and has Shane reduced to laughter as she has him move the chair from place to place. "What's the difference?" he keeps protesting. "It looks the same here as it did over by the table."
"Hey," she admonishes him, her hands on her hips. "You're the furniture mover. I'm the decorator. Now shift it over just a bit more."
The ringing of the phone breaks into their amiable arguing, and Tom reaches to answer automatically, his eyes still on Sloan and Shane. The sound of the voice on the other end, though, has him stiffening to attention, and his eyes flash to Shane's.
Putting his hand over the receiver, he beckons Shane over and hands him the phone. "It's Trevor," he says softly, concern in his eyes. "He's asking for you."
The laughter on Shane's face fades in an instant, and he takes the receiver from Tom with hesitation, his eyes shadowed.
The conversation is brief, and Tom and Sloan move away to give Shane some privacy.
"What do you think he wants?" Sloan asks Tom quietly, her eyes on Shane.
Tom shakes his head, his expression worried. "I don't know. He sounded upset, but there was something else as well ...." His voice trails off as Shane ends the conversation and turns to them, his face troubled.
"Trevor says he's changed his mind," he tells them both, his eyes on Tom's. "That he wants us to come and pick him up."
Sloan's face brightens at the news, but Tom's concern only builds at the sound of Shane's voice. "What's wrong?" he asks intently, studying the boy's face.
Shane says nothing for a moment, and then responds in a low voice. "I think it's a trap," he says slowly. "Something about the way he talked, the things he said .... I know Trevor, and that wasn't Trevor talking." Moving to pace restlessly in front of them, he shakes his head. "This feels like my father's doing."
"Why?" Sloan asks, frowning in her confusion. "What would he want?"
"Me," Shane says simply. "Or Tom. My father doesn't like to be thwarted, and he already sees Tom as a traitor. Tom's refusal to hand me over makes it personal, and I wouldn't put it past my father to set up an ambush to capture him."
"What do you want to do?" Tom asks quietly.
There's another moment of silence and agitated pacing before Shane turns to face him, and Sloan is shocked at the naked pain on his face. "I don't know," he confesses. "It's a trap .... I'm almost sure of it. But if it isn't, I can't leave him waiting there." He looks at Tom beseechingly. "Could we be nearby, watching? To see what happens?"
Tom nods in agreement, quickly striding over to a duffel bag he keeps stored in Sloan's closet. Returning seconds later, he holds up a pair of night-vision goggles left over from his days as a chameleon. "We can use these to keep Trevor in sight," he says reassuringly. "Where does he want us to meet him?"
"In the park near our house," Shane responds, a frown on his face. "But in a more remote part of it, away from the houses nearby. It's strange .... he hates the dark, and would never go there willingly at night."
"Is there enough cover to hide us?" Tom asks,
"Yes," Shane nods, his eyes narrowing in thought. "It's a pretty flat area, but there's a bandstand we can use for cover. It's far enough away that I don't think anyone could sense us, but we should still be able to see Trevor with your goggles."
"What time does he want you to meet him there?"
Shane looks at his watch, and his eyes widen in alarm. "If we leave now, we'll just make it."
"Then get your jacket, and we'll be on our way." Tom turns to Sloan, his eyes regretful. "I don't know when we'll be back," he says softly. "I'll call you as soon as I can."
"Just be careful," she urges him, touching his cheek for a moment. "If Shane's right, you could both be in danger."
"We'll be all right," he says encouragingly, giving her a small smile. "We'll be able to sense any danger before it happens." Leaning forward, he kisses her gently. "Thank you .... for tonight. It meant a lot to us both."
"I'm glad," she says simply, and turns to Shane, automatically straightening the collar of his jacket. "You keep safe," she tells him quietly, "and keep Tom safe for me."
"I will," he says, his eyes shadowed. "I promise."
The night is dark and still when Tom and Shane arrive at the park, most of the nearby residents having finished their evening walks and returned home. A few bright spotlights light the grounds, and the two are careful to stay close to the scattered clumps of trees as they make their way cautiously from the street to the deserted bandstand, their dark clothing helping them blend into the shadows.
They've made good time on the drive from Sloan's apartment, and are ahead of schedule. But Trevor is already at the site he'd directed Shane too, his small figure silhouetted by the nearest spotlight a few hundred feet away. He seems to be searching the grounds for them, his head moving from side to side, and he appears to be alone.
Tom and Shane crouch down behind the sheltering wall of the bandstand, and Tom hands Shane the night-vision goggles, nodding encouragingly. "You know him best," he whispers. "Watch him for a while, and see what you think. I'll keep an eye on the surrounding area."
"How long should we wait?" Shane asks, shifting slightly with unease. "I mean, how will we know whether my father's waiting nearby, or someone else?"
"We'll wait as long as it takes," Tom says patiently. "If you're right and it's a trap set by your father, he may be too impatient to wait long. But if it's not .... if it's a trap set by someone else .... they probably know enough about us to expect us to be cautious. Just watch, and see what happens."
Walter Attwood looks up in surprise to see the Limo Lady walk in his door, her face grim. He's the only one left in the lab .... Ed had finally completed the last of his tests over an hour ago and left .... and he'd been so wrapped up in his work that he hadn't heard her enter the restricted area. Obviously her sources of information are still sound, he thinks to himself wryly. He'd had all the codes changed, and yet she'd entered with ease.
"I came to warn you," she says abruptly. "I've just had word that Tom Daniels may be walking into a trap tonight."
"Good evening to you too," he says formally, his eyes watching her carefully. "What trap?"
She shakes her head and turns to pace in front of his desk. "My boss is apparently luring him into a meeting up at Oak Ridges Park, in Midland," she responds. "Tom thinks he's going to meet Shane's brother Trevor. But my boss's men will be there instead to grab him."
Turning, she plants her hands on Walter's desk and looks at him intently. "Call him," she orders. "Warn him off, before it's too late."
Walter reaches for his phone and quickly dials Sloan's number. "Sloan, is Tom there?" he asks when she answers, and listens as she tells him of Tom's hasty departure. "When did Trevor call?" he asks, and glances at his watch as she fills him in on the details.
"Fine," he says in response. "Call him. Tell him that I've just received information that it may be a trap." He listens to her response intently, his eyes narrowing, and then nods quickly. "Let me know what happens," he says, and ends the call, hanging the receiver up carefully.
"Well?" the Limo Lady asks impatiently.
"He left some time ago," Walter says evenly. "Sloan's calling him now, but it may be too late."
Her face tightening, she sits down in the chair. "I'd hoped I'd be here in time, Walter," she says.
"How did you learn about this?" he asks curiously, his eyes on hers.
She shrugs lightly, returning his gaze steadily. "I still have contacts within the secret faction," she responds. "Some less loyal to the cause than others. One of them called me minutes ago with the news."
He leans back in his chair, watching her. "You took quite a risk coming here .... we both know that your boss still suspects you of helping us free Tom, and I expect he has men watching us both. What made you decide to warn me?"
"I want back in the game, Walter," she says bluntly. "That shouldn't surprise you. I made the wrong choice, backed the wrong people, and it cost me." Nodding at the phone, she continues, "When I heard about the ambush, I saw my chance."
"At least you're honest about it," he says heavily.
"You know me, Walter," she says, her lips shaping into a cool smile. "I don't mince words."
The harsh ring of Walter's phone breaks through the silence that follows, and he answers it abruptly, his expression deepening as he listens. Hanging up minutes later, he looks at the Limo Lady with a frown. "It looks as though Tom's turned off his cell phone," he tells her, his voice tinged with concer. "Sloan can't get through to him."
They've been watching Trevor for half an hour now, and seen his unease increase with every passing minute. At times pacing along the pathway near the spot he's picked, at others shifting in place, he continues to watch for Shane and Tom.
He has also, Tom notes with a growing certainty, glanced to his right, to a small grove of trees.
"He's not alone," Shane says at last, resignation in his voice. "Is he?"
"No, he's not," Tom agrees, taking the night-vision goggles from Shane and scanning the trees near Trevor.
"Can you sense anything?"
"No," Tom says finally, lowering the goggles to look at Shane. "You're right .... it's too far away for us to sense anything, just as they can't sense us. But if I were setting up an ambush, that would be the perfect spot."
"What do we do now?" Shane asks, turning his gaze back to his brother's waiting figure.
"We watch," Tom says simply. "Sooner or later they'll make their move, and we'll know who we're dealing with."
Shane watches silently for a few more minutes, and then looks down, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I'm sorry, Tom," he says quietly. "What Trevor did tonight could have put you in danger."
"But it didn't, thanks to you," Tom points out evenly, turning to look at Shane. "You knew something was wrong, and you warned me."
Shane keeps his gaze lowered, and shakes his head. "I've caused you so much trouble," he murmurs. "First you got me away from her, then from my father. And Dr. Parker .... she's been so nice to me, and let me stay with you. She even bought that couch for me to sleep on. And all I've brought you is trouble."
"Shane," Tom says gently, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You're not responsible for what your father does, or your brother. And you're not trouble. Helping you get away from them has helped me, more than you know."
Shane turns to look at him then, his gaze curious. "Dr. Parker says you've been having problems, since the rescue. That helping me might help take your mind off it."
Tom nods his head, turning his gaze back to Trevor. "She's right, it has."
"But your dreams .... " Shane pauses, his voice trailing off. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry."
Keeping his gaze on the waiting figure in the park, Tom shakes his head lightly. "It's all right," he says quietly. "I know you heard what happened last night, saw me rush out." He hesitates for a moment, searching for the words to explain. "What they did to me, the people who held me, brought back certain memories," he says finally, his voice subdued. "Things from my past. It's been difficult, coming to terms with them."
"But Dr. Parker is helping you," Shane says quietly.
"Yes, she is," Tom says, smiling softly.
"I should leave," Shane says restlessly, and glances back at Trevor. "Get out of your way. You two need time together while you work this out."
"Shane," Tom says, choosing his words carefully, "I don't think you understand what having you stay with us has done for me. What I've done .... turning my back on my species .... hasn't been easy. The people I used to work with want to either capture me or kill me. And the humans I've worked with, except for Sloan, haven't really accepted me or trusted me, not until recently. It's left me feeling very alone at times.
"But since you've come to stay with us, that's changed. I haven't felt so alone. So different. Can you understand that?"
Shane's eyes glisten as he nods silently. "I was alone even when I was with my family," he confesses. "I always felt different, set apart from everyone else because I couldn't accept the things that they did, and they couldn't understand why I had doubts."
Looking back at Trevor's waiting figure, he adds, "Staying with you and Dr. Parker .... it's the first time I can remember when I've really been able to relax, to be myself and not always be on guard. You accept me for who I am, and that's never happened to me before."
Turning back to Tom, worry returning to his voice, he adds, "But .... "
"No more buts," Tom says lightly, lifting the goggles to his eyes. "It's settled. You're staying. Sloan .... "
His voice stops suddenly and he stiffens, looking intently through the goggles at the sudden flash of movement in the trees next to the waiting boy. Shane, sensing his tension, turns to see two men in black emerge from the trees to talk to his brother. And gasps when they suddenly reach for Trevor and he pulls away, struggling against their firm hold. Before Tom and Shane can react, a black van bursts out from behind the stand of trees and the side door is flung open, the men climbing in and dragging the struggling boy with them.
Tom, still watching intently, reaches to hand his car keys to Shane. "Start the car, now," he orders abruptly. "I'll get the plate number, and we'll follow."
"But what if it's another trap?" Shane asks, hesitating as he rises to a crouch to run for the car.
"We'll stay well enough back to be safe," Tom says tersely. "Now go!"
Minutes later, they're on the trail of the black van, speeding through the darkened streets. Both are tensely silent, Tom using all of his concentration to both keep up with the van and stay far enough back to evade any sensing abilities the men inside might have, using the sparse traffic along the roads as a cover for his pursuit of them. Shane still clutches the set of goggles he'd been holding when he first made the run for the car, and sits slightly forward, his gaze intent on the fleeing van.
Thirty minutes later, the van finally slows down, approaching the dimly-lit entrance to what appears to be an abandoned manufacturing plant. The gates to the plant swing open electronically, and the van is inside the lot by the time Tom inches his car along the side of the road, keeping well back of prying eyes.
Bringing the car to a stop, he opens his car door and, silently gesturing to Shane to follow him, he makes his way to the edge of the chain-link fence bordering the plant. Kneeling down behind a protective screen of bushes, he take the goggles from Shane and looks through them to see the van draw up to a large set of loading doors at one end of the plant. Its doors open, and he watches as a group of men step out, the small, still-struggling figure of Trevor Baker in their midst. Seconds later they're inside the building, the loading doors shut behind them.
"What do we do now?" Shane whispers, looking at Tom in panic.
"Could you pick up anything from Trevor?" Tom whispers back, his eyes still focused on the closed doors. "It's too far .... I couldn't tell anything," Shane says in frustration. "It looked real to me .... but I can't tell any more, not after what he pulled in the park tonight."
Tom turns his head to look at him assessingly, and nods his head. "I agree .... this could be another trap." Raising the goggles to his eyes, he scans the area. "If it is, it's a good one. Whoever thought this up knows what they're doing."
"Which rules my father out," Shane says levelly. "He's smart, and he's got connections, but this is out of his league."
"My thoughts exactly," Tom agrees, lowering his glasses to glance at Shane. "Which means we're dealing with someone a lot more dangerous. And inventive. They didn't get us in the park, they knew they might not get us here. They'll have another plan ready as backup .... it's just a case of waiting for them to make their move."
"And while we wait, what happens to Trevor?" Shane asks, worry etched on his face.
"From the look of it, he's the bait they'll use," Tom says flatly. "They won't hurt him .... not as long as they need him to get to us." Putting his hand gently on Shane's shoulder, he adds, "We'll get him back. I promise. But not now .... let's head home, and wait for their call."
"You think they'll call?"
Tom's gaze turns bleak. "I'm sure of it."
Sloan's call to Walter breaks through the uneasy silence he has maintained with the Limo Lady, both determined to wait until they get word from Tom and neither one inclined to talk with so much distrust between them.
His face clears as he talks with Sloan, the news obviously good. Looking up as he ends the conversation, he gives the Limo Lady an encouraging nod. "Tom's been in touch," he says with relief. "It seems that he and Shane suspected a trap going in, and stayed clear of the ambush."
"Good," she says with a nod, her expression giving no sign of her inner turmoil. "What happened?"
"The men who had been waiting to capture Tom and Shane took Trevor instead."
"They'll use him as bait, of course," she says evenly. "Tom for the boy."
"I would imagine so," Walter says, watching her steadily.
"Will Tom agree?"
"That's his decision to make," he responds. "I can't speak for him."
A small sound alerts her to her beeper, and she glances down quickly, and then back at Walter. "That will be my boss," she says, rising from her chair. "If I can find out anything more, I'll let you know."
"I'd appreciate it," he says, rising himself and watching her cross the room to the door. "My superiors are anxious for your first report, by the way," he adds. "They had expected one by now."
"Consider this it, Walter," she says, turning back to glance at him. "My first report, and the only one for a while. It's too dangerous to do more right now."
"Then when?" he presses her, his eyes intent.
"When I think it's safe," she says impatiently. "And not before. I took a big risk coming here tonight, Walter. I would think that would count in my favor."
His expression tightening, he watches her go, and then sits down again, reaching for the phone.
Sloan greets Shane and Tom quietly when they return, Shane's somber face prompting her to give him a small, reassuring hug.
"Tom told me what happened," she tells him gently. "He'll get Trevor back, you know that."
Shane holds on to her tightly for a moment, then pulls back, a sad smile on his face. "I know he will," he says, and turns to look at Tom. "I just don't want you to take any more risks. Trevor wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for my father .... he should be the one to get him back."
Turning back to Sloan, he asks, "Has he called here yet, my father?"
Sloan shakes her head. "Are you expecting him to?" she asks with a frown.
Shane nods briefly, his eyes clouded. "He'll call, all right," he says with resignation. "And he'll find a way to blame this on us."
"Then don't let him," Tom says gently, touching Shane's shoulder gently for a moment. "He only has power over you if you let him."
"I know," he says, his eyes meeting Tom's. "Who do you think did this? Who is my father working with?"
Tom shakes his head for a moment, walking over to one of the kitchen stools and sitting down wearily. "Sloan says Walter heard about the trap from one of his sources," he says thoughtfully. "What if it was his old boss? She still works for the man in the suit, the one who held me captive. What if she overheard him planning the ambush as a way to get me back?"
"My father working with a human?" Shane says incredulously, moving to sit beside him.
"You said it yourself," Tom points out. "Your father hates to be thwarted. If he's desperate enough about getting you back, and angry enough at me to want revenge, he may be willing to make a deal with the devil to do it."
"And think that he can control the situation," Shane agrees.
"What do we do now?" Sloan asks, watching them both with concern.
"We talk to Walter tomorrow," Tom replies, rubbing his neck tiredly. "Ask who his source was, see what he knows. And we wait to hear from the kidnappers, see what they want, and then we figure out a way to get Trevor back."
"But how?" Shane says, a shadow of despair in his voice.
Tom turns to answer him, but is interrupted by the ringing of the phone, and all three look at each other warily.
Reaching to pick up the receiver, Sloan answers, and her eyes flash to Shane's. "It's your father," she says quietly, holding her hand over the receiver. "Do you want to talk to him?"
Nodding silently, he crosses the room to take the phone from her. "Hello?" he says quietly, and closes his eyes for a second at the sound of his father's voice.
"Is Trevor with you?" Charles asks abruptly.
"No," Shane responds evenly. "But then you know that, don't you?"
"I don't know what you mean," his father says, his voice tinged with concern. "I found a note in his room, telling me that he was leaving with you and Tom Daniels. I'd like to speak with him, Shane .... put him on the phone."
"You know he's not here," Shane says, his voice hardening. "Just like you know he didn't leave you a note. You sent him to the park, didn't you? To lure Tom and me there .... to set a trap for us."
"Son," Charles says patiently, "I don't know what you're talking about. Please let me talk to Trevor .... I'm worried about him. I want to make sure he's all right."
"Ask your friends," Shane says briefly. "They have him." And hangs up the phone, his shoulders slumping as he looks down at the receiver.
Sloan exchanges a worried glance with Tom, and moves to put her arm around Shane's shoulder. "He won't let them hurt him," she says gently. "Not if Trevor is as important to him as you are."
Shane looks up at her, his eyes shadowed. "We were never important, not really," he says quietly. "Not for who we were. Just for what we could do for him."
Lost for words, she squeezes his shoulder and steps back to reach for the blankets and pillows she'd set out for him on the couch. "Come on, it's late," she says, smiling at him encouragingly. "You need your sleep. We all do."
"She's right," Tom says, rising from the stool. "We'll need to be rested for whatever happens tomorrow."
Shane takes the pillows and sheets from Sloan, his eyes moving from Sloan's to Tom's. "Thanks," he says quietly, ducking his head a little. "For everything."
"Don't thank us till you've slept on that couch for a night," Sloan says with a grin, heading for the bedroom. "You're the one who thought it was so comfortable .... despite the fact I liked the white one better."
Tom puts a steadying hand on Shane's arm as he opens his mouth to defend his choice. "Don't even try," he advises, a glint of laughter in his eyes. "She always gets the last word .... trust me."
Shane grins back for a moment, a weak grin but a grin nonetheless, and Tom feels a sense of relief. Shane has the strength and character he'll need to get through the next few days, no thanks to his father. Charles Baker has no idea what he has let slip through his fingers, Tom thinks to himself, and tightens his hold on the boy's arm for a minute, a surge of protectiveness running through him.
"You'll notice that it's empty."
His voice sounding hollow in the cavernous, dimly-lit space, her superior paces silently around the cage, his eyes on the floor.
She remains silent, knowing that he doesn't expect a response.
"I had this shipped here today, on the expectation that you would have Tom Daniels for me, as you promised," he says musingly. "But here we are. Without Tom Daniels."
He continues to pace, his footsteps even, his attention seemingly on the floor and the patterns cast there by the light shining through the steel bars of the cage.
He has called her here to explain the failure of the ambush, and she's had the long drive to marshal her forces. She had a back-up plan prepared in case of failure, and is grateful now that she did. Otherwise, she would have had nothing of offer to save herself.
"I believe I told you that failure at this point was unacceptable." His voice is still even, but there's now an edge to it, and he finally looks up to fasten his eyes on hers, his expression implacable.
"I don't consider it a failure," she says in a measured voice.
"You don't," he says gently, tilting his head to one side.
"There was always the possibility that Daniels would sense a trap, no matter how well we planned. That was the reason we used the boy .... if we couldn't get Daniels, we would take him instead, and use him as bait."
"Bait." Turning, her superior paces back the length of the cage, his attention once more seemingly focused on the ground. "And why would Tom Daniels offer himself up to save a boy who betrayed him?"
"Because he's weak," she responds, a note of contempt in her voice. "Because he's wrapped himself in those emotions of his."
Slowly approaching the cage, she reaches out to touch one of the bars. "And because of this."
Her superior glances up, his brow raised.
"This cage haunts him," she says simply. "The cage, and what you did to him. My sources tell me that he's had nightmares ever since."
He stills at the news, a fleeting expression of satisfaction on his face. "So?"
"So we put Trevor Baker in this cage, and let Tom Daniels know he's here."
He remains silent, watching her steadily.
"He won't be able to stay away," she says, a cool smile on her face. "His conscience won't let him."
"And then he'll be mine."
"Yes."
The shrill ring of her cell phone breaks through the ensuing silence, and his lifts his brow, nodding his permission for her to answer.
It's Charles Baker, his voice both furious and fearful.
"Where is my son?" he demands.
"Safe, for the moment," she replies, her eyes on her superior, who has continued his pacing, his gaze resting on the cage.
"Where?" "With us. He failed to lure Tom and Shane to the ambush, so we were forced to take alternative measures."
"Meaning?"
"Your son is being offered up for trade," she responds coolly. "His life for Tom Daniels'."
"How dare you .... " he sputters, but she cuts him short.
"This was never your deal to make," she responds, her voice becoming steely. "Shane's connection to Tom Daniels made you a useful asset in getting Daniels back. But the ambush failed, and our plans have changed."
"I have connections," he threatens. "My people won't let you do this .... "
"Your people," she interrupts him. "And what will your people say when they hear that you've made a deal with humans .... worked with them in secret?"
He falls silent, suddenly aware of the trap he's fallen into, and she presses her advantage.
"You can still be valuable to us, Mr. Baker," she says. "In many ways."
"And Trevor?"
"He stays with us for now. At least until we have Tom Daniels back."
"And then?"
The advantage hers, she disconnects, and pockets the cell phone back in her purse.
Looking up, she meets her superior's eyes, and they exchange a long, amused look.
"Get the boy," he orders softly, and turns back to the cage, his hand resting on one of its many bars.
This time he's aware of being in a dream. Knows that the cage he's in is only in his mind, that the man in the suit standing next to him isn't really there.
But the fear hits him just as strongly, and the dread.
He knows who will be in the cage next to him, but still turns to look, his heart in his mouth. And sees Trevor Baker there, small, hunched, his eyes wide with fear. Looking back at him, begging him silently for help.
He tries to wake himself up but can't, and then they come for him. Blank-faced attendants, reaching into his cage, plunging a needle into his arm before he can fight back. He feels himself go limp, aware of what is happening to him but unable to move, and they roughly drag him from the cage and strap him down on a stretcher.
His mind struggling to understand, he sees bright lights flash overhead and he feels himself moving, being rolled down a long, featureless hallway. Straining against the bindings, he lifts his head and sees two men waiting in the distance, holding open a set of double doors. Beyond them, a bright light shines, and people dressed in surgical suits pass by, their gait purposeful.
"No," he protests, and is startled at the sound of his voice. Younger, higher. He lifts his head again and finds to his shock that his body is that of a teenaged boy, gawky and thin, his bare legs sticking out from below the sheet spread over him.
And then he's in the bright room, being lifted onto a table and circled by faces wearing surgical masks, their hands reaching out to pin him down and insert an intravenous tube in one arm.
"No," he protests again, more loudly, and tries to twist away from the hands holding him down. Looking up in a panic, he sees glass walls overhead, and long rows of seats, an observation room of some kind set high above him.
Standing there, watching him, is Lewis. His face amused, his arms folded in front of him.
"No," Tom begs, his eyes on his as a nurse injects something into the needle, and then it's too late. Blackness takes over, and the last thing he sees is the cold, blue gaze of his mentor, and the smile on his lips.
"No!!" Tom gasps, his breath caught in his throat, springing up in bed as if to fight away those restraining hands. And finds himself batting at sheets instead.
"Tom!" Sloan springs up next to him, reaching out to grab his hands in hers and bring him under control. "Tom!" she repeats urgently, her voice louder. "Wake up! It's me, Sloan."
He stills for a moment, his hands caught in the act of shoving her away, and then he sags slightly, his eyes focusing on hers. "Sloan," he says on a sigh, and shudders, dropping his head to his chest and taking deep, gasping breaths.
"Oh, Tom," she says, a catch in her voice, and she reaches out to cup his face in her hands and press her forehead to his, her eyes shut tightly. "I can't stand it," she confesses quietly. "Watching you go through this .... "
Silently, his breathing still too labored to let him speak, he takes one of her hands in his and holds it to his chest, his other arm coming around her shoulder to hold her against him reassuringly.
"It's all right, Sloan," he says finally, his voice husky. "It's all right."
"How can you say that?" she protests, her voice strained.
Squeezing the hand pressed to his chest, he shakes his head. "I have to deal with this, Sloan," he says quietly. "You said it yourself .... it's the only way to get it out."
Hesitating, his mind searching back through the scattering images of his dream, he adds, "And it's working .... I remembered more this time. About Lewis. About what happened to me when they took me away on the stretcher."
"What?" she whispers, lifting her eyes to search his. "What did they do to you?"
Drawing her back against him, pressing her head to his, he winces at the memory. "They operated on me," he says, a raw edge to his voice. "I don't know why. They wheeled me into an operating room, and the last thing I remember is everything going black."
"Where was Lewis?"
"Standing above me." He tightens his hold on her. "Watching."
"Why would they operate?" she asks in confusion.
"I don't know," he says heavily, his voice growing grim. "But we're going to ask Ed tomorrow. He wants to do a physical on me .... we'll tell him what I've remembered, and see if he can figure out what happened. Whether he can find the scar."
Her fingers tightening against his, she buries her head in his shoulder. "I hate him for what he did to you," she says quietly, her voice muffled.
Lifting one hand to smooth her hair, he shakes his head gently. "Don't," he answers back, his voice soft. "Don't give him that much power in your life."
"I can't help it," she protests. "What he did to you .... "
"Is part of my past," he finishes for her. "Or will be, once it's all out in the open. This is about getting Lewis out of our lives, Sloan. For good."
She lifts her head to look at him, her eyes shadowed in the dimly lit room. "I want that, so badly," she confesses.
"So do I." He leans forward to kiss her softly. "So do I."
"You're right," Walter says heavily, leaning back in his chair, his eyes on Tom's. "She was the one who told me about the trap. A source of hers in her superior's organization apparently tipped her off late yesterday."
"Do you believe her?" Tom asks speculatively, arching an eyebrow.
Walter hesitates for a moment, fiddling with the pen he's holding. "As much as I believe anything she has to say," he says finally, nodding. "She seemed unusually on edge last night, as though she had a stake in all this."
"She does," Sloan interjects, her voice wry. "Getting back on your good side. Without your connections, she'd be in jail right now."
His eyes flash to hers, and he smiles grimly. "So she would," he acknowledges. "She seemed to think I'd be grateful for the information. What she didn't know was that you'd told me Tom and Shane already suspected a trap."
"So her boss was the one behind the ambush," Tom says, his eyes darkening.
"And, presumably, the one who has Trevor," Walter responds.
"What do we do now?" Ed asks, watching each of them in turn from his perch on the corner of Walter's computer table. All of them are gathered in Walter's office for this early-morning meeting, Sloan sitting in her usual chair in front of Walter's desk, Tom leaning against the corner wall, Shane close beside him.
"We wait until they contact us," Walter says simply. "And in the meantime, we plan, based on what we know." Turning to Tom, he adds, "I've asked Marcus to come in later this morning. He has the resources we need if we're going to rescue Shane's brother."
Reaching for the phone, he adds, "I'll see what I can learn from my sources about this abandoned plant you mentioned. And I'd like to talk to Shane for a while, if I may, to get a better understanding of what his father might do at this point. Ed tells me he needs you in the lab for a while, Tom .... I suggest we meet back here as soon as we've had word from the kidnappers."
The meeting at an end, Ed and Sloan head for Ed's office, Tom lingering for a moment before following to give Shane an encouraging touch on the arm. "Will you be all right?" he asks.
"Yeah," Shane says, giving him a small smile. "I want to help Dr. Attwood in any way I can."
"Good," Tom says, returning the smile briefly, and turns to leave as Shane takes a seat in the chair Sloan has just abandoned.
Joining Ed and Sloan in Ed's office seconds later, he finds them already deep in discussion. Turning to him, Sloan explains, "I've been telling him about your dream .... about your memories of being operated on."
"Yeah," Ed says, running his hand through his hair as he looks at Tom with a frown. "You don't have any memory of being sick? Of needing the operation?"
"No," Tom says, frowning as he goes back over the dreams. "I'm in the cage, I'm scared and cold, but I don't think I'm sick." He looks at them both, his face shadowed. "I have the feeling that it's something Lewis ordered, but I don't know why."
"Then we'll just have to see what we can find," Ed responds. "I wanted to examine you anyway .... I got the results back from the second sample you gave me, and they were the same as the first: your sperm count barely registers."
"Do you still think that could be because of the drugs he was given?" Sloan asks him.
"That could be it," Ed says, glancing at Tom with concern. "The problem is we still don't know much about your species' physiology in a case like this. The physical may turn up something. If not, the usual practice is to wait at least two weeks and then try again .... see if the the results are any different."
Rising up from his chair, he motions Sloan to the door. "First, though, you leave, and we do an exam .... see if we can turn up anything."
"But .... " she protests.
"Sloan," Ed admonishes with a grin. "This is the kind of thing we do in private. You know, a doctor and his patient? No girlfriends allowed? Now go."
Meeting Tom's eyes and watching his brow quirk in amusement, she suddenly flushes a deep red. "Oh," she says blankly, awareness suddenly breaking through her scientific curiosity. "I guess I'll go wait in my office."
"You do that," Ed says, holding the door open and waving her out. And catches her as she turns, her mouth open to speak. "And yes we'll call you as soon as it's over," he promises patiently. "Now *go*."
"You realize this is the first time I've done this in years," Ed says, standing back as Tom removes the last of his clothes. "I'm a little out of practice."
"I don't imagine much has changed," Tom says with a small smile, moving to stand near Ed's desk.
"No," Ed says with a rueful grin. "I guess it hasn't."
Moving forward to begin the examination, a stethscope strung around his neck, he finds himself quickly falling into old routines .... taking Tom's blood pressure, checking his heart, testing reflexes, asking the standard questions and more involving the particular physiology of the new species.
"Everything looks good at this point," he says eventually, beginning to check Tom for the telltale scar of any surgeries he might have had. "Other than the obvious signs that you're not sleeping much."
Running his hands over Tom's shoulder, he checks the recently healed wound on his shoulder, and a smaller, slightly older scar on one arm. "Gunshot wound," Tom says briefly. "A few months ago. Sloan patched it up for me."
"Uh-huh," Ed says, his brows raised slightly. "I guess in your kind of work that was an occupational hazard."
Tom nods silently, standing in place as Ed slowly examines the rest of his torso and then hunkers down to examine his waist and groin area.
"Do you have any idea where they operated on you?" Ed asks curiously, his eyes quickly checking for marks.
"No," Tom says. "All I remember is being put under."
"Well, I can't find anything so far .... " Ed responds, his voice suddenly trailing off as he spots a slightly raised edge of skin. "Wait a minute." Leaning forward, he gently probes the area along one side of Tom's groin.
"There it is," he says on an indrawn breath, tracing the small, almost undetectable ridge. "Have you had anything done there, any injury that you know of?" he asks, looking up at Tom.
"No," Tom responds with a frown. "Nothing that I remember. What is it?"
"I can't be sure," Ed says with a frown, probing the area again and staring at it intently. "My guess is that it's a small surgical scar, and an old one at that .... I'd say it's been here for years."
Sitting back on his haunches, he stares at the area thoughtfully, his hand rubbing his chin. "I want an x-ray of the area," he says suddenly, looking back up at Tom. "To see just what it is we're looking at."
Tom nods his agreement, his eyes searching Ed's. "Could it be connected with the low sperm count?" he asks steadily.
"I don't know," Ed says honestly, standing to move to the door. "But we'll find out soon enough. Stay there for a minute, until I get things set up."
Opening the door to leave, he finds himself face-to-face with Walter, whose eyes take in Ed's hurried movements and Tom's state of undress with unflappable calm. "Tom," he says briefly, "I need you when you're done here. A message has arrived from the kidnappers .... a videotape, actually."
"I need an x-ray from him," Ed says, "and then he's yours."
"Good," Walter says with a nod, and turns to leave. "I'll see you in my office as soon as you're ready."
The image on the videotape is clear and stark. Trevor Baker, naked and hunched in one corner of a large cage, a single spotlight overhead lighting a halo over his fair hair.
Sloan stiffens at the sight, and tightens her hold on Shane's hand. She had taken it when Walter first put the tape into the vcr, readying both of them for what they were about to see. But nothing had prepared her for this, and she can feel him reacting with shock as well, his fingers clutching at hers.
An unheard voice appears to prompt the boy in the cage at one point, for he lifts his head to look at the camera, his expression blank with fear. They catch a brief glimpse of his features before he ducks his head again, lowering it to rest on his upraised knees, his body curving in on itself.
The camera lingers for several minutes on the boy before the picture suddenly goes black, and Walter reaches for his remote control to stop the tape and rewind it.
"A message came with it," he says heavily, his eyes glancing from Tom's to Marcus's. The dominant peace leader had arrived minutes before, just as Ed was finishing with Tom, and so had been in time to see the video with the rest of them. "They propose a trade .... Tom for Trevor. And they want an answer within the hour."
Sloan looks over at Tom, and her heart sinks at the haunted look on his face. Standing in the corner, his arms folded in front of him, he hasn't said a word since the tape began playing, and his eyes are still focused on the blank television screen.
"Tom?" Walter is asking, his eyes intent. "Is that the cage they held you in?"
Tom shifts his eyes to Walter's, and he nods carefully. "It looks like it," he says, his voice quiet. "I'd say that's part of the message, wouldn't you?"
"What do you propose we do?"
"We agree to the trade," Tom says simply. "That buys us enough time to figure out a way to get Trevor away from them."
"How do they want Tom to contact them?" Marcus asks, his gaze going from Walter's to Tom's.
"By phone," Walter says briefly. "An untraceable number. He calls, and someone on their end gives him instructions on where and when to meet."
Moving forward, Tom takes the small slip of paper Walter holds out to him. "You can make the call here," Walter says, rising from behind his desk to give Tom room.
Everyone in the room watches silently as Tom punches in the number, agrees to the trade, and listens to the instructions given to him, his face grim with concentration. Ed's sudden interruption as he sticks his head in the door is met with a frown from Walter and a finger to his lips, and Ed nods silently, edging into the room to lean quietly against the wall.
Hanging up the phone, Tom looks up at Walter and Marcus, his eyes shadowed. "They've set up the swap for tonight, at midnight," he says. "They want me to show up alone at the plant where they're holding Trevor."
Walter frowns. "That doesn't leave us with many options."
"What do we know about the layout of the plant?" Marcus asks, glancing from Tom to Walter.
"My contacts have been able to get their hands on the original architectural plans for the building," Walter responds. "And I've had men watching the place since shortly after Tom and Shane left last night. They'll be able to fill us in on how many men are guarding it."
Lowering his gaze to the papers spread out before him, he pauses for a moment, and then raises his eyes to Tom's again, his face grave. "It might interest you to know that my former contact was seen there last night," he adds. "And her superior. At least a man we assume to be her superior. Medium height, well-groomed, wearing a very expensive suit."
Tom's eyes flicker slightly at the news. "Obviously your old boss is a lot more involved in this than she let on."
"We'd better get started," Marcus says, rising from his chair. "Walter, I'll need an office here to work out of for the day. I want to call some of my people in, go over the drawings with you, see what we can come up with."
"Certainly," Walter responds, and Marcus stands up to follow him out of the office, their faces intent.
Tom stays seated at Walter's desk, his eyes still on the phone next to him, and then he suddenly turns to look at Ed, his brow raised inquiringly. "You have the results of the x-ray?" he asks.
"Yeah, but it can wait .... " Ed hesitates, his eyes taking in Shane's tense expression and the worry on Sloan's face. "You've got enough to deal with right now."
"No," Tom responds, turning to face him. "It will take them a while to get set up. Tell me what you found."
"That's the problem," Ed says, raising his shoulders in a puzzled shrug. "I'm not sure what I found .... or at least, what it means." Looking at Tom intently, he explains, "I found something on the x-ray .... a microchip or implant of some kind buried deep under the scar tissue."
"An implant?" They all turn to the door in surprise at the sound of Marcus's voice, and he steps into the room quietly. "I'm sorry for interrupting .... I came back to get something, and accidentally overheard."
"Actually, I could use your input on this, if it's okay with Tom," Ed says, looking at Tom to see his reaction.
Tom nods his permission, his eyes meeting Sloan's in a wordless moment of concern.
"I've been doing tests on Tom, and took an x-ray this morning of what looks like an old surgery scar in his groin area, barely detectable," Ed explains. "And I found what looks like a microchip there, buried under the scar tissue. I've never seen anything like it .... do you know what it could be?"
Marcus's expression stills at the news, and his eyes flash quickly to Tom's. "May I ask what the tests were for?" he says quietly.
Tom nods silently to Ed, who turns to Marcus to explain. "Tom and Sloan have been worried about your species' so-called super sperm, and how it might effect them. I ran two tests on Tom's sperm and came up with extremely low counts both times. I figured the next step was a physical, to see if I could detect where the problem might be."
"He was also looking for a scar," Sloan says quietly, her eyes flashing to Tom's. "Tom's been having nightmares, flashbacks to the time he was with Lewis, and last night he remembered being operated on, although he couldn't remember why."
Marcus whitens at her words, and sits down heavily in his chair, his eyes on hers. His reaction, so unusual in such a self-contained dominant, has Ed and Shane exchanging uneasy glances. Tom stays silent, still sitting in Walter's chair, his eyes on Marcus.
"He did it," Marcus finally says, almost to himself. "We told him not to .... we banned his experiments. But he did it anyway."
"Who?" Sloan asks, her voice taking on an edge as she straightens in her chair.
Marcus stays silent for an endless moment, and then raises his eyes to Tom's, looking so intently at him. "Lewis," he says heavily. "He had a plan to make his chameleons even more focused on their training. He didn't want any outside influences to disrupt them. But we told him no, it was too much. It would interfere in our breeding programs, take vital people out of our gene pool."
"What did Lewis do?" Sloan is standing now, her face strained, her knuckles white where she has fisted her hands. Ed steps forward to put his hand on her shoulder reassuringly, but she ignores him, her focus on Marcus.
"He wanted to have implants put in each of his chameleons that would suppress their sex drive. That way there'd be none of the usual distractions with male and female chameleons in the same barracks. And no distractions during their training."
"What about later?" Ed asks intently. "When they were adults?"
Marcus shakes his head, his eyes still on Tom's. "Lewis said he would deactivate the chips once they were out in the field. At that point, he said, he'd use drugs to control them, allow them to be sexually active when it suited his purposes and the missions they were on."
"Then why the low sperm count, if the chips were deactivated?" Ed presses him.
"Because," Marcus says simply, bleakly. "In almost every case, the implants left the test subjects sterile. It's why we wouldn't agree to the plan, why we banned any more experiments on the microchip. We couldn't afford to lose that many potential breeders .... especially those who were Chosen .... if we were to reach our population goals."
He shakes his head, his eyes still on Tom's. "I'm sorry, Tom, he says quietly. "We thought we'd stopped him."
Tom stays motionless, his gaze seemingly turned inward. He doesn't seem to hear Sloan's involuntary protest, or see her sudden move toward him. "I think we should leave them alone," Ed says, with a troubled look at Marcus and Shane, and the three of them silently file out, shutting the door behind them.
"Tom," Sloan says gently, coming to kneel beside him, her hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry."
He remains silent another moment or two, and then looks down at her, his eyes shadowed. "It solves our problem, doesn't it?" he says quietly.
"Not like this," she says miserably. "It's not fair .... "
"I'm all right, Sloan," he responds, trying to reassure her, his voice strained.
"But what Lewis did .... "
Closing his eyes, he slowly leans forward to press his forehead against hers, and shakes his head. "I can't talk about this," he says after a long moment. "I can't .... not now. We have Trevor to rescue, we've got Shane to worry about ....
"Tom," she protests, lifting her head, her eyes searching his.
"Please, Sloan," he says. "Not now."
Rising from the chair, he helps her to her feet, reaching out at the last moment to touch her cheek gently, tracing a path down to her jaw. "I'm sorry," he says softly, a flash of pain crossing his face.
And he leaves her standing there in Walter's office, her heart breaking for him.
The End
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