I can feel them inside me, biding their time. They’re waiting to be strong enough to overthrow me and fend each other off. The only way to keep them quiet is to take the drug…and by taking the drug, I make them that much stronger.
Joseph Heller invented the term ‘catch-22’. He meant it to refer to war-era pilots, but it is equally applicable to me. Whatever demons stalked through Heller’s book, they have nothing on mine. They get louder as they feed. There isn’t enough room for all of them and me as well. I need to make them quiet. Making them quiet makes them loud. Catch 22.
I should tell Wes. But he is smart enough to put the pieces together and cut me off entirely. And that way lies madness of a different nature. They’re so strong. If I stop now, they’ll take over and I’ll be more than lost; I’ll be deposed, kept prisoner in my own body. I need more and I can’t have it.
Catch 22.
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Wesley was in his office, trying to read Cordelia’s notes about the mission that she had sent Angel out on this morning. It wasn’t easy to concentrate. He had already made himself a cup of tea and read the paper, all the things he liked to do in the morning to get himself focused and ready to deal with the Otherworld, but his mind wandered.
His gaze fell upon the file folder that Fred had left on the edge of his desk two days before. He hadn’t had time for more than a cursory read through of her notes, but so far what he learned about the drug they had created for Hannah was not reassuring. Something would have to be done.
Wes heard singing from the lobby and smiled. Lorne had been in a very good mood lately and it was almost impossible not to know why. He watched through the window as the demon filled up the coffee maker and prepared two mugs, hers with cream and his with a generous amount of kahlua, before sitting down to watch it percolate. Lorne looked through the office window to Wes and waved. Wesley tried to smile as he returned the gesture, with limited success.
“You okay in there, boss?” Lorne called out, concerned now.
“Could you come here for a minute, Lorne?” Lorne came into the office and took a seat across from Wesley.
“Have you noticed anything odd about Hannah lately?” Wesley asked, his tone deceptively light.
“Don’t try that with me, muffin,” Lorne said, leaning forward. “You’re practically screaming ‘ulterior motive’ and you look all kinds of worried.”
“All right then.” Wesley made eye contact. “Has Hannah been behaving normally? Shaking hands? Blinking a lot? Snapping at you?”
“Not the last one.” Lorne sat back again.
“Oh dear.” Wes sighed and pinched his nose above his glasses.
“I know I don’t like the sound of that.”
“It’s the drug,” Wesley said. “We’re still working out the kinks. I’ll talk to her and we’ll see if we can rework her dosage. We might have to go to two injections a day.”
There was a knock on the door of Wesley’s office and he called out permission to enter. The door opened to admit Hannah. She crossed the room to sit beside Lorne, automatically taking the hand he held out to her.
“Good morning Wesley,” Hannah said. She squeezed Lorne’s hand and looked up at him apologetically. “Could you give us a minute? I need to talk to Wes.”
“Of course.” Lorne was smiling when he said it, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The look he exchanged with Wesley over Hannah’s head was far from reassuring, but he quit the office without further conversation.
“I need more.” Hannah cut straight to the chase. There was an air of urgency about her.
“Hannah, I am not sure that’s the best solution.”
“It’s the only solution, Wes. The meditation regime isn’t working. I can’t keep them quiet any more.”
“And the drug is addictive,” Wesley shot back. “We still don’t know what side effects you’ll get and from what Lorne has told me—”
“You’ve been going behind my back?” Hannah’s eyes flashed with anger and a little something more that Wesley couldn’t quite put his finger on. “I’m a big girl, Wesley. If you want to know something, just ask me.”
“From what Lorne has told me,” Wesley continued as through there hadn’t been an outburst, “I think I ought to be cutting you back, or even off altogether, not giving you more.”
“You can’t do that to us!” Hannah leapt up from the chair. “We need it.”
Wesley stared at her stonily; as though she was some kind of puzzle he had cracked but hadn’t got around to telling her what the answer was yet. He waited until she sat down again.
“We?” he said in a deadly quiet voice.
Hannah’s eyes flashed at him again and then she closed them, shutting him off from whatever was inside. She swallowed hard and when she opened her eyes again, they were calm.
“I need the drug. Wesley.” Her voice was now quite reasonable but with a touch of wheedling. “I don’t want to listen to them any more.”
Wes regarded her, trying to pick the next step. Obviously, something about the drug was making the souls inside her more lively. He was now positive that drugging her in the first place had been a mistake. There had been too many unknowns about the compound Fred created. It would be hard, but they would just have to find another way.
“No, Hannah.” He said it in the flattest tone he could muster, steeling himself against pity. “You will get no more of the drug.”
He was completely unprepared for her reaction. All that saved him were the few seconds it took her to jump, shrieking, to her feet and launch herself into the air across his desk. Reflexively, Wesley tipped the chair backwards and rolled clear just as Hannah careened through the empty space he had just occupied and collapsed to the floor.
She was twitching horridly, her eyes wide and empty, as she lay on the floor behind his desk. Wes sat up as quickly as he could, checking the back of his head for damage before turning his attention to her. She was uninjured as far as he could tell, but she thrashed about on the floor and moved closer to the legs of his desk.
As he scrambled across the floor to hold Hannah in place, Wesley heard the door open as Lorne and Gunn rushed in to see what the commotion was about. When they saw, they froze, staring at the scene before them in shock.
“What did you –” Lorne began.
“Later!” Wesley barked. “Come here and see if you can calm her down.”
Wesley did not release Hannah, but shifted enough that Lorne could fit behind the desk with them and get close enough to touch her. As soon as his hands touched her face, she stilled and Wesley let her go. Hannah’s eyes closed and her breathing returned to normal.
“Help me carry her upstairs?” Lorne asked Wesley, though everyone knew that Lorne could carry her by himself. Gunn righted the chair and began to set the desk in order as Wes and Lorne lifted Hannah and carried her out of the office.
When they got to the base of the staircase, Lorne took her in his arms and gestured for Wesley to precede him. They made their way up the stairs without saying anything, although Wes could tell that Lorne had something to say. Already, Wesley was wracking his brain, trying to come up with something that would explain Hannah’s collapse. He would need to read the analysis of the drug again, that much was certain.
They entered Hannah’s room and Lorne set her down on the bed. He pulled a blanket over her and sat down beside her. He ran a hand along the side of her face, looking wistful, but when he turned to Wesley, he was all business.
“We may have a problem.”
“How do you mean?” Wes asked.
“I didn’t need her to sing to catch it, it’s broadcasting off of her in waves. It’s like being stuck in a tidal bore.” Lorne said cryptically. “When I touched her, everything went back to normal, but that person you were wrestling with? It wasn’t her.”
“What?”
“It was someone else.”
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