Finishing with the bed, she turned back towards him and held out a hand. "We can go anywhere you want to," she said quietly. "What if we run into someone, though? Are you sure you feel up to being around other people yet? I want to show you the places we were at, but there's likely to be people around some of them...if the places I remember are still there, of course."
"People don't frighten me, Melissa. I was thinking about how radioactive that area is now ... those people... Doesn't it bother you to just ... leave them in those tombs?"
As he thought about it, it seemed to be the -right- thing. "I think ... No, I -know- that I should go back and check for survivors. I won't leave them there to die."
He put his hands on her shoulders. "You can go on to Larabee if you want. I know how important family is. My memory isn't as important as those people's lives, though. The government will just write them off. After all, it was a secret facility. They'll just call it a total loss and leave them there.".
"Those are the people that did this to you," she whispered, the pain showing in her eyes. "You...you can't go back there, who knows what will happen this time..." She didn't want to go back there, or worse, see him do that.
"There might be people in danger there. Danger -I- helped put them in. To leave them to die from radiation poisoning would be .... violating a trust. I just know that I -have- to go back. I can't -not- go. I know you don't want to go back there. I can't blame you for feeling that way, so I'm not asking you to go there with me. I can handle anything there which might come up."
Seeing the determination in his eyes, she shook her head. "If you have to--you're -not- going alone." She squeezed his hand and tried to hide her reluctance, her fear for him more than for herself.
"Be sure, Melissa. There are probably going to be ... unsettling things there."
"I don't want you to go, Scott. They've already hurt you, tried to bomb you, twice--if you go back there--I can't lose you. I just can't..." she hugged him tightly, pressing herself against him.
"I'm more physically capable since we first came here. My body has had time to make some of the adjustments it needed." Feeling her body pressed against his, feeling her warmth and softness, Morgan was almost dissuaded from his priority. He overrode the sweeping desire to take her to bed again and put his arms around her.
"Melissa ... I had a hydrogen bomb detonated beneath me. Okay, it -hurt-, but it didn't kill me. I don't think they have anything like that left there, so I should be okay." He hesitated, but when she continued to hold him he added. "If you keep holding me like this, I'm going to take us both back to bed. Do you want to spend all of Christmas Day making love?"
A smile came to her face for a moment as she remembered what they'd done. "I'd like to." she whispered. Then the smile faded as she thought of other things, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "But right now I need to see what's left of home, Scott. I'm so afraid they'll hurt you again if we go back to that base..." Lifting her head to meet his eyes, she shook her head. "If you really think we should, though, I'm going with you."
Admittedly, Morgan was slightly disappointed that she declined his alternative suggestion, yet the survivors still took precedence. He might well be too late already. "Given the magnitude of the force they unleashed, I doubt there'll be much of the 'base' left at all. I have to look, though. I need to be certain."
With that, he relaxed his embrace and looked towards the door.
She walked beside him, staying as close as movement would allow, her arm around his waist. She wasn't sure how she'd get through the next several hours--she merely wanted, needed, to feel his closeness as long as she could.
Morgan was being pulled in several different directions. He wanted to take Melissa to Larabee to learn what she could there, but he also had this strange drive to take her back to bed. First and foremost, however, was the drive to preserve life. That drive was stronger than Melissa's needs or oddly, his own.
He lifted her in his arms, and that seemed to satisfy his need to be near her. Their emotional bond was strengthening with every passing minute, and he couldn't help but notice that the memories of red and snowflakes kept coming up at the same time he thought about how much he was coming to love her.
"Damn but I wish I knew what that meant!" he said. "Red and snowflakes, red and snowflakes ... every time I touch you, I get 'red and snowllakes' in my head. It's like it's some kind of key to something."
"I wish I knew." she said softly.
Stepping outside, he saw the Army vehicles surrounding the campsite at a distance, with a ring of troops and a laser fence surrounding them. All of the elements were concealed both by the interposing forest and their kilometer of distance, but he could sense and see them.
"Melissa, do you see the troops out there? Tanks, rpg crews, snipers ... they don't leave a whole lot to chance."
"I see them," she replied. "All this for just the two of us?" she shook her head.
Morgan scanned out farther and found that the area around them had been thoroughly evacuated. 'Chemical Hazard' signs detoured traffic from the park, and he could see gunshipsat a distance, armed with air-to-ground and air-to-air missiles.
"Hmmm... maybe we -should- have stayed in bed."
Lifting off the ground, Morgan watched as the gunships converged. He could see the laser targeting beams and burned his clothing away with an intense thermal burst. His skin turned dark, and the beams lost their lock. Melissa remained human-looking, and for the time being that was not a bad idea, strategically.
"They might think I've taken you as a hostage," he said. "Don't change form."
"Would it help if I struggled or screamed?"
"If they've had us under surveillance, they'll know we weren't ... fighting. I'm going to try to scan for their communications frequencies."
With a thought, he could sense part of his internal circuitry begin the scan, sweeping across the entire bandwith of RF, then narrowing the field further and further until it locked on.
`...obra leader to CP. Target is holding a small package. Repeat: Target is holding a small package.`
`CP to Cobra leader. Package is bogus. Proceed with full route delivery.`
`Uh, that's a negative, CP. Package is authentic and non-military.`
"The pilot thinks you're a civilian," said Morgan. "He's refusing to fire. I think we'd best serve his career by not drawing this out."
Rising to a level equal to that of the gunships, Morgan turned away and rose into the sky. Both radar and laser targeters tried to get a fix on him and failed, as his absorbing skin sucked up their signals. All that remained were the image-targeting systems, and he knew they had those on standby.
"If I fly too high or too fast, they'll know you're not human," he said, leveling off at some three thousand feet. I hope they don't--"
Six missiles launched simulaneously from the ground. They had been fed an image of his form and were now tracking it.
"They don't care -who- they kill," he said.
Melissa saw twin beams of laser light come from Morgan's eyes. Looking into the distance, she could see the converging beams pass over each missile, detonating them in mid-flight. Those same beams locked onto the rotors of all of the gunships one by one. Smoke began to issue from the engines as they tried to turn heat-swollen rotor shafts.
"So much for conventional weaponry," said Morgan.
Still holding her in his arms, he turned north and flew towards Canada for ten minutes before dropping altitude and changing course back towards the Facility.
"How do you think they found us?" she asked, once they were well clear of the campground.
"It might have been dopplered radar picking up our atmopheric wake. Or maybe the thermal shift in the air from our speed. We'll either have to slow down, or find some other way to travel."
"We...we could slow down, I suppose." She really didn't want to go back where they'd came from in the first place. It meant so much to him, though...however, she felt that the people who'd been there were probably already dead by now. All she could see was the scene in her imagination of a bomb going off over him, this time he vanished, blown into a million atoms by the blast.
Nodding, Morgan kept a careful eye on thermal projections, trying to come up with a way to suppress the effects of their movement. Lives were at stake, but it wouldn't help to have missiles chasing them all across the country.
She held on to him, trying desperately to think of some way to distract him from this. After the things he only half remembered, the last place on Earth she wanted him to go was there. Perhaps the radiation couldn't affect them, perhaps not--with the way he had been 'damaged' there was no telling, it was a chance she was not willing to take. He meant far too much to her. Shifting herself in his grip so that she could get both arms around him, she kissed him. Hard.
Melissa's sudden kiss threw him off course. She was so mercurial! Decelerating, he landed on the edge of a small lake, no longer knowing where they were. He softened the kiss into what it should be, holding her in his arms as his emotions roiled inside him. Even after the kiss ended, he continued to hold her.
"Please don't do that again," he said. "I want you to kiss me because you love me, not because you're afraid for me." His form shifted from black metal to human, and he looked slightly closer to Scott's original appearance in some subtle way. "I love being kissed by you, and kissing you, but only for the right reasons. Speak now, and I will listen."
"I...I know everything you said, Scott." she said slowly. "I know you're...you're different now, that they probably don't have anything left like--like what hurt you. I know all that, yet--I can't stop thinking that those are the same people that did this to you. That, that just tried to shoot us out of the sky--" she shook her head. "It's been thirty years, you said. That means--that means everything, everyone, I knew is p-probably gone--except you. I can't lose you--I just *can't*..." If she had still been human she would have been sobbing now, as it was her voice broke into tearless sobs as she clung to him. "I--I wish I c-could stop...being afraid...b-but I...I l-love you..."
"I know you do," he said. "I feel the same about you. Let's go to Larabee now. I'll deal with the consequences later.
Melissa held Scott close as they rose from the lakeside..."Thank you.." she whispered, giving him another kiss. "There'll be more where that came from...later..." she pressed close to him, at last feeling the fear that had gripped her begin to fade away, now that he'd changed his mind about risking a return trip to whatever was left of that place.
It didn't fade completely, though, it merely shifted focus--now she wondered what they'd find in Larrabee, after all the time that had gone by. She had to know, though. At least she didn't have to face it alone--she didn't think she'd have been able to handle it had that been the case.
It didn't take long for them to figure out where they were and find a roundabout, indirect, way to the town--there was no sense luring the military there if they could help, Chequamegon had been almost too close as it was.
"There it is," she said quietly, as the town came into view below them.
Morgan stared at the town for five minutes without moving. Images which seemed half forgotten resurfaced in his thoughts. His senses scanned the entire town from end to end, and he didn't like what he found.
"The park is under surveillance. So is your house. Your brother is a detective. At least, I think it's your brother. He looks something like you, and his name is painted on the door of an office. There's a man sitting in another office across the street, watching him through binoculars. I don't see anyone else in your house, but there are a row of pictures of you across a mantlepiece there and there is a room which looks like it might be yours. Are those ... pom poms?"
"Pom poms?" she repeated, disbelievingly. "You mean they kept my--my things? I *was* on the cheerleading squad, though you probably don't remember that."
Most of his concentration was being used to fight the compulsion to fly back to the Facility. It was wrong to do this, to be here. He knew that with more certainty than he knew anything else at this point in his life with the sole exception that he cared for Melissa very deeply. His attention was drawn to a young woman in the park. She was sitting on a bench there, eating a hot dog. The other benches in the park were also occupied, but hers was the only one occupied by a single person. A strong feeling of danger rose within him when he looked at her. Looking deeper, his vision peeled off her clothing and he saw that she had flawless skin. She was unarmed and not wired for sound.
"This is...." he began, but then his focus shifted slightly. "Hello. Now -there's- something you don't see every day."
Morgan was looking at a series of cybernetic components implanted beneath that skin. Schematics floated through his mind, identifying elements.
"Bastards," he said. "To do ... -that- ... to someone. Are there others like her? Where did they get the technology? Melissa ... there's someone in the park we have to avoid. She's sitting on a bench by herself. Where she got a hot dog in the wintertime..."
"They had hot dogs all the time.." Melissa replied, looking at the woman he'd indicated. "What technology are you talking about?"
"Look -into- her. Make her skin and clothes like glass and look inside."
She looked, refocusing her eyes in the way she had back at the campground.
"She's almost an android, but her brain ..." Morgan continued to look at her, studying how much of the woman was left. "Well, -most- of it is still there."
Melissa could only stare, although she did notice that her vision did seem to adjust easily. "I--I've never seen anything like that. Could she have come from--from that place, too?" She shook her head. "I don't even want to know..."
At that moment, it hit her. Thirty years...thirty *years* it had been, since she'd last walked these streets, seen these people--she clutched at him in desperation, her need to go back overwhelming her to such an extent her shoulders, her whole body shook with the force of the tearless sobs that burst forth from her. "Scott, *please*...there's *got* to be some way we can...I have to see Jeff, talk to him. Even if he can't know who I am--I've got to get into the house, too...why can't they leave us alone..??"
Morgan, holding her, suddenly shot up into the sky. When the heavy clouds blocked out the ground, he stopped.
"Melissa," he said. "You have to get a better grip on your feelings. I'm picking up a boost in your power ... as if they're linked."
His skin turned black as she started to radiate. "You -have- to calm down." The possibility of some kind of discharge was growing more and more likely.
Morgan continued to hold her close, letting minutes flow by. As her power flow dropped, he stopped absorbing it and returned his body to a more normal appearance. The wind around them picked up his hair and swept it to one side, while his eyes looked deeply into hers.
"If you feel that strongly about it ...." He frowned, not liking the increasing length of the delays. "Wait here for -five- minutes, and do -not- look down."
Releasing her arms, Morgan disappeared right before her eyes.
She nodded as he let go, then struggled to calm down. She could feel the power surging inside her and closed her eyes as she fought for control of the torrent of emotions that had risen within her.
She floated there, eyes closed, focusing on calm, until Morgan rose back through the clouds, bobbing up in the air in front of her.
He hadn't wanted to pursue this course, but she needed the stability, and the agents below had been blocking her from achieving that contact. "Melissa, I'm sure there's a way to get in touch with him. They're probably looking for a couple, so if you went in by yourself, they might not pay as much attention. They probably have his phone and office bugged, so we have to come up with some other way for you to talk. I couldn't knock them all out, but I did draw their attention away for a while. Probably a short while ... but the woman in the park didn't move."
He looked again at the cyborg. "I didn't see anything like her back where we were. There might be a different facility for that kind of research. Maybe I'll just go have a talk with her while you visit Jeff. Any ideas on how to talk to him without giving yourself away?"
"Let's see...you said he was some sort of detective. If I could change without being seen--or do you think I look old enough to pass for a, a college student. What if I told him I was doing a study of...family members of people who've disappeared, and his name was on some old files. There probably -was- something in the papers about me--we just have to find out what."
"What makes you say that? They might have just declared you a runaway, and runaways usually don't make the papers. I would think they'd want to keep your disappearance as well-hidden as possible. Could that be why your brother turned detective?"
She shrugged. "That could be." she admitted. "I just thought there might've been something about them looking for me, that's all."
"If anyone will know, your brother will, I'd imagine. As far as your appearance goes ... " Morgan searched around for the nearest college, not really certain as to what a 'college student' should look like. Finding a campus, he scanned the female section of the student body and came up with an attractive composite. "Let's see if I can make this work... Watch your eyes."
Morgan's body glows as the new parameters are processed. When the glow fades, a woman just under six feet tall is floating in front of Melissa. Her hair is strawberry-blonde and flows down to the center of her back. Black denim jeans conform comfortably to long, trim legs, and a white turtleneck sweater covers an equally well-proportioned chest. The sweater is covered with a black leather jacket which is half-zipped. Her fingers are slender and tapered, with attactively airbrushed nails. Her eyes are a sparkling aqua color, and her face is model-perfect, although devoid of makeup other than a tinted lip gloss. She's sporting a pair of diamond earrings and is wearing a bonded pair of gold friendship rings.
Morgan looks down at himself and whistles. "Not bad for a composite-on-the-fly. Copy this, and you'll draw all -kinds- of attention. At least I know the clothing part works now."
She stared for a long moment, just taking it in. "I--I like it. And certainly no one could possibly mistake that for me..." she closed her eyes and changed to a duplicate of the image Scott had presented.
"Now all we need is some reason I'm talking to him. Something that'd get him on the subject we want without giving myself away...."
Morgan returned to his metallic-skinned form, feeling most comfortable that way. It somehow seemed closer to the 'truth' of what he was.
"Okay ... let's see. You could be ... a journalist? Or maybe a writer? Or ... how about a psychic? Hmmm... there's an idea. That would drive whoever's listening to the tapes crazy. They'd probably write you off as a crackpot of some kind. You could certainly make yourself credible, just by telling him some of the things from your past ... things just the two of you would know. Where you tried your first cigarette, or where you first saw him doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing. Then ... suggest lunch. Get out of the office. If you can get him to a restaurant or something, I can jam the sound pickups they'd use, so you could talk without being overheard. What do you think?"
She couldn't entirely repress a laugh at that one, in spite of everything. "I like that--you're right, anyone listening will think I'm just some kook."
Morgan laughed with her. "Okay, then. Let's get things set up."
Morgan double-checked the agents he'd knocked out with bursts of ultrasonic sound. Melissa would be safe with her brother for a while. The other agents, the ones staking out her house, were redeploying, responding when their fellow agents failed to respond to timed radio calls. He had them on the move, and knew that reinforcements were on the way. They had only a few hours at best before the town became too hot to be safe.
He watched her enter the building her brother's office was in, and then turned to his other pursuit. The cyborg woman in the park was not part of the others' organizational chain. When the orders went out to redeploy, she remained where she was, sitting in the park as the snow fell around her. When he approached the park, he saw that she was still sitting, the snow accumulating slightly on the corners of her plum colored coat.
The snow crunched beneath his feet. Now in 'human' form, he walked along the path which led him in her direction. To anyone looking, she would be attractive. Her hair was long and jet black, and her eyes were a soothing shade of blue. Both of the eyes were artificial, and yet she could still see with them, indicating a medical technology far in advance of anything he'd ever heard of. Those eyes tracked him as he came into view, and followed as he moved closer.
"You've been watching me," she said. "I'm not sure how I should feel about that."
"May I sit?"
She gestured to the seat beside her. "Please."
"Thank you."
Taking the seat, Morgan was able to gain a lot more detail on her. Strange energies which had no name in human tongues passed over her and through her. A detailed image of her entire body formed in his mind, and circuits were analyzed and interpreted. She appeared to be mostly equipped for surveillance and high speed movement, but she did have a few weapons included among her components.
Long moments of silence passed between them, with her eyes constantly moving from him, to her surroundings, and back again. She was not sure of what to say, and Morgan was feeling equally uncertain. Did she know who he was? Did she know that she had been discovered?
"Are you waiting for someone?" he finally asked.
"Yes, actually. If you were going to ask me out for lunch, I have to decline."
"I've been watching you for a while now. Whoever he is, he's very lucky."
She looked at him almost apologetically. "It's not that kind of thing, really. I can't explain it, though."
Morgan nodded. "I understand, I think. May I wait with you? I think it's better to have someone to talk with when you're trying to kill time."
She suddenly noticed that his hand was resting on hers. "This won't go anywhere, you know. I'm just passing through this town. At most, I'll only be here a couple of days." Her hand turned so that her fingers could wrap around his. It had been a very long time since anyone had wanted to hold her hand. It was against orders, and most of the men she knew were aware that she'd been changed into something other than human.
"That's all right," Morgan replied. He held her eyes for a moment, then looked at the snow. "Everything I want to say seems to come out sounding like a line."
The cyborg smiled. She knew that outside she was beautiful. They'd made her that way deliberately, but most of the time she traveled in the company of other agents, where even conversation outside of their orders was rare. A part of her wanted to let this stranger pick her up, if only to get her mind off the everpresent job for a while. Compromising, she said, 'Try me, but no questions."
Morgan smiled. "Well, that knocks out a lot of them. When I first saw you, the snow was just starting to settle on your hair and dust your coat. I think that at that moment I knew I wanted to come and talk with you. I wondered if you were as attractive in mind as you are in body. You have to be very patient, or want to see this person very badly to sit here so long. I watched you look around a lot, and noticed that you didn't bring anything to do. No books or crossword puzzles or anything like that."
"Where were you watching me from?" she asked. "I didn't notice you ... and I'm sure I would have."
"That's a question," Morgan replied. "But I don't mind answering. When I first saw you clearly, you were looking away. I moved to just beyond that dense brush over there." With his empty hand, he gestured towards a stand of evergreens which blocked most of the view of the sidewalk beyond them. The sight of you sitting here ... made me think you were ... well, lonely somehow. You had this sad look, not physically, but you just ... I don't know ... seemed sad."
She almost pulled her hand away then. He was clearly not one of the locals. "Who -are- you?"
"Well, I had hoped that I might be the guy you were looking for." He smiled again. "See? I told you it came out sounding like a line."
She laughed gently, and was shocked at her own behavior. She had not laughed once since her humanity had been taken from her. "Maybe so, but your technique isn't bad."
"You have a very nice smile," Morgan replied. Looking down at their hands, he added, "I'm glad I don't make you nervous. Your hand is very steady."
"Oh, please. You're hardly monstrous."
"Are you...? Sorry. That was going to be a question."
He fell silent, and she felt his fingers tighten around hers ever so slightly. He had very strong hands, and his pulse and blood pressure registered on a display in her optical field. Their numbers told her than he kept himself in excellent physical shape, something she'd figured out the first second she'd seen him. It was almost like being on a first date, with each fumbling for something to say, just to keep the conversation going. He was starting to interfere with her job, and she knew that would not go well with her superiors.
"Listen ... I'd -really- like to have that lunch, but I'm ... working."
Morgan's eyes widened ever so slightly. "You're ... 'working', working? No way. I don't believe that for a second."
She nodded, hating herself for having to drive him away. "A woman has to eat. I must disgust you, now." Trying to release his fingers, she found that he was not letting go of hers.
"If you really need money," Morgan replied. "I can spare enough to get you through a few days, so you won't have to ... work. We can just sit here and talk for a while, if that's okay."
Her fingers curled around his again. "You're very nice, but I have to ... look like I'm working. You see, I'm being watched, too."
"You mean you have a....?"
Her cheeks flushed powerfully with the growing magnitude of her lies, and she nodded again. "Yes. He's around here somewhere, watching me. I've already stayed in one spot too long."
"Okay, then. Let's go get a room and talk there. I'd really like to get to know you better."
She shook her head. "No, not with you. I don't want to." Looking into his eyes, she saw a gentleness there which almost made her cry. It struck deeply, hurting her even though she didn't really understand why. She was a machine-thing now, not a woman. She didn't feel shame or sorrow. "Can you understand?"
"I ... think so," Morgan replied. "It couldn't possibly last."
"Right... I'm not someone you'd want to know better."
"You're wrong about that, but I still think I understand. I guess I should go, although I really don't want to."
"It's been so long since anyone really ... wanted to talk to me." She felt his fingers squeeze hers ever so slightly. A normal person would never have noticed. "Just go, all right?"
"Listen to me, before I go," he said. "You can live whatever life you want to live. No matter what's been done to you in the past. You're pretty, and I know you're bright, too. If you think you owe something to whoever you're working for, you're wrong. I'm not saying 'come away with me'. What I -am- saying is that you can be and do much more than this. All you need to do is take control of your life again."
"It's too late for that," she said. "Far too late..."
"You're breaking my heart, and I don't even know your name."
"Sheryl.... it's Sheryl." Abruptly she heard the voice of her controller in her mind, transmitting to her from wherever he was.
"Agent 2F! You no longer exist as that person. Report back for reassignment immediately."
Standing, she looked at Morgan and took his other hand in hers. "I have to go ... but ... thank you." He started to rise, but she stopped him. "Don't get up, please. Not until after I've left the park." Leaning down, she kissed him, which was somthing else she hadn't done since her changing. It was brief, but hopefully something she couldn't be made to forget. It was as if just by talking to her, this stranger had opened some kind of lock in her mind, and let her life return.
"Goodbye, Sheryl," said Morgan. "Maybe we'll meet again, sometime."
She turned away without answering and quickly left the park. Morgan tracked her, using his enhanced vision to look through the trees and cars which would have blocked her from his sight. A black panel van pulled up and the large side door slid aside like a gaping maw to swallow her as she climbed inside. Looking at her face, he saw tears flowing onto her cheeks as the door slid closed behind her. He sat there on the bench, unmoving, as the snow began to accumulate on him as it had on her. Minutes passed, and then he moved on, wishing that his own past were as easily unlocked.
* * * *
Following Scott's directions, Melissa walked up to the building where her brother's office was located.
She reached the lobby and paused for a moment to look 'through' the specific office door, by way of confirmation.
There was a man sitting inside. It took a conscious effort to keep her mouth from dropping open as she looked at the middle aged man behind the large oak desk. She knew it was her brother, not only because his name was painted on the door in scrolling black lettering, but because he looked like their father, as she remembered him the last time she'd seen him.
He had the same brown hair, and was getting those tinges of grey their father had. At least he still kept himself in good shape, although he'd been working so hard that his eyesight had started to go. A pair of reading glasses rested on his nose, making him look something like a big librarian, but even that image couldn't keep the shock of what she was seeing from hitting her.
The yawning gulf of thirty years threatened to well up inside her again, but she pushed it back down. She couldn't let herself get out of control again or who knew what might happen. If she was going to pull this off, she had to keep her wits about her and work fast.
Thinking back to every movie she'd seen with mediums, fortunetellers, and the like, she tried to remember the things they'd said and done. She didn't have time or the privacy to duplicate any of their garish clothes, nor did she have a crystal ball. Still, if she played this right, he might buy the act without the props. Taking what would have been a deep breath if she'd still been human, she stepped forward and tapped on the frosted glass window of the door.
"Come in..."
The brass doorknob turned easily in her hand, and the door opened quietly on well-oiled hinges. Melissa stepped into the room and paused before closing the door behind her, still unable to take her eyes off him.
"Yes?" he asked, looking her over.
::All right, here I go,:: she thought. "Mr Crane..." It felt so strange calling him that, she wanted so much to simply throw her arms around him, it was taking almost every ounce of self control she had left to keep from doing that.
Jeff's eyes glanced at the open appointment book in one corner of the desk, which wasn't an easy proposition. The large desktop was laden down with a disheveled heap of papers and folders in a mismatch of old and new, which sat next to and around an old desktop computer parked next to his left hand. Then he looked back to her questioningly. He'd had all sorts come in here, though rarely if ever any as young as this girl seemed to be.
Seeing that and guessing the reason, she shook her head. "I...I don't have an appointment. I just--had to come see you."
"Have a seat, Miss--?"
Her mouth opened, and at that same moment her mind went blank. She'd had a name picked out. She had....what was it? ::Come on say something, he's waiting:: What was she going to say now? She couldn't just blurt out her own name--but what--she scrambled silently..."Uh...Larkin. Cathy Larkin. And thanks."
Instantly she thought to herself, ::Way to go, Melissa. Cousin's first name plus your mother's maiden name. Why don't you just hang a sign around your neck and get it over with?:: It was a miracle that she was still able to keep a polite smile in place as she stumbled through the verbal minefield before her. All of her rehearsed lines vanished like smoke as she looked at him, and she had to speak with great care. Without realizing it, her fingers came up and began twirling a strand of her hair.
The detective asked, "Well, Miss Larkin...what brings you here today?"
"I'm not sure where to begin." she replied, scrambling to retrieve -something- of what had been worked out, and knowing it'd be pure luck if he didn't throw her out as a nut five minutes from now. Still, she was committed. "Mr Crane--have you ever heard of people who, who see things? I don't mean they're imagining things, I mean like when you see something that hasn't happened and then it does--or when you touch something that belonged to someone and feel something about them?"
His eyes narrowed. "I've heard of that, yes."
"I...I'm one of those people, Mr Crane. I know this sounds crazy but I have to talk to you--and not here. It's about--" she swallowed, praying that he wouldn't notice she wasn't really breathing.
Looking at her, Jeff's eyes took on a tired look. How many times had he been through this? Another psychic, another round of false leads and disappointment. Still, credible psychics had been used successfully in a number of police investigations, and this time, this one had come to him, rather than him seeking her out.
"Are you claiming to have psychic powers, Miss Larkin?" Wearily, he rose and went to one of the filing cabinet which lined the western wall of the office. Pulling open a drawer, he reached in and drew out a thick file. On it in bold letters was written the word 'Psychics'. His back to her, he concealed the shaking of his hands. "I've been down the garden path with a lot of your kind. I've yet to find one who was credible enough for me to work with."
Opening the folder, he took out a pair of ziplock bags containing tagged items of jewelry. He put the bags between his teeth and cleared off a space on his desk. "All right, this is my psychic test. I've had some people get lucky and pick the right article out of one bag, but never both."
The bag he emptied had all kinds of costume and quality jewelry. She looked over the pile of items, and recognized several right away. Her first earrings, the birthstone ring her father had given her on her thirteenth birthday, and the cross pendant he'd given her for her confirmation. There were also several other rings and pins she remembered, which had been their mother's.
Looking at the second bag for a long moment, Melissa shook her head. Nothing there seemed at all familiar, and she left it closed. She went back to the items from the first bag and began setting in a row the ones she recognized.
::Ok... How to do this?:: Her eyes scanned the things she had worn just a few days, and thirty years ago. ::I don't *believe* he still has all this! Oh, Jeff...!::
A lump rose in her throat, she fought to get past it enough to speak. Picking up the earring, then the cross, she turned them over and over in her hand a couple of times, then looked back at Jeff, her eyes almost brimming with the tears she couldn't shed anymore.
The earring sparkled as she looked down at it, still shiny after all the years. ::Where was the mate to this one, anyway?:: she wondered. ::Does he still have it?:: Her fingers went to an earlobe, stroking it just the way she'd done all those years ago right after getting these. It had taken her a while to get used to the feel of having something there once she'd started wearing them.
Jeff watched the girl closely. There was something about her that seemed familiar. It wasn't her appearance, he was sure he hadn't met her before, but the feeling was there. Then there were the items she'd picked up and the others she'd placed in a row. All Melissa's. None of the others he had approached before this had chosen those, and she had such a strong attachment to them. Could he dare hope? ::Stick to the numbers,:: he told himself.
"Not bad," he said, using his years of experience to keep the tremors from his voice and his hands, as he reached for the second bag. "Now let's see what you get from this one. Maybe you're warmed up now." He carefully put the items she'd ignored back into the first bag before emptying the second in its place.
The contents of the second bag lay spread out before her. Rings, pins, necklaces, bracelets...there was every kind of jewelry here, nothing that looked familiar though. She rummaged through the pile, picking up this or that piece for a closer look before putting it back down and shaking her head.
"I'm sorry," she finally said, her voice trembling with the effort to contain her emotions. Seeing that other pile with her things had really hit her hard. "This...there's nothing here that rings any bells... it's just these." she touched the cross again, then waved a hand over the things she'd originally picked out.
Jeff sat back in his chair, ignoring the jewelery on the table except for the small row. Every piece was there. Looking up, the feeling of hope which had become so small, began to grow again.
"Okay," he said. "Now I'll listen to what you -really- have to say. What can you tell me? What brought you here?"
"I...I had to see, talk, to you." she began, her voice shaking. "I...there's so much I want to say. Not here, though--not in here."
"Why not?"
It took every ounce of self control she had left to not look around the room, which would likely tip off whoever was watching. "I...I took a really big chance...even coming here. There's...there's more to this than you realize...I can't discuss it here, please, isn't there somewhere else we can talk...?"
Unable to take the chance of losing what might be an incredible find, Jeff stood. "Are you in danger?" he asked, turning towards his coatrack.
She nodded in silent response.
Hanging there was a rumpled trench coat straight out of Casablanca, but beneath it was a large shoulder holster. Strapping on the holster, he slipped into his coat and returned to his desk, where he opened a drawer and withdrew a large automatic pistol. Checking the long magazine, he chambered a round and slid the pistol into his coat, where it virtually disappeared to the untrained.
"I know just the place. We'll have a drink, and some lunch."
It was a short walk to the bar, and Jeff held the door open for her as they entered. He came here often, both for the food and the privacy. Cigarette smoke and the scent of beer and sandwiches mixed in the air. Wiping glasses behind the bar, Max Kelly nodded at him and gave Melissa the once over before smiling. "Dolly!" the barkeep shouted. "Mr. Crane and guest! Hop to it, girl!"
The crowd was light for this time of day, mainly the regulars and a couple from the office buildings around the area. Jeff saw no strange faces as the bright eyed, brass blonde barmaid led them to the furthest booth in the back, near the Wurlitzer. Every man in the bar pasted a long glance on Melissa as she passed by, but no one looked for long, knowing the man who walked with her. Jeff paused by the machine and dropped in a quarter. His fingers were light on the keys, but moved instinctively across them. The opening notes of 'Unforgettable' began to play as they sat down.
"A double shot of the usual and a corned beef for me. For the young lady ... make it one of those orange sherbet things and a..?" He looked at Melissa with an inquiring eye. "Salad?"
Melissa shook her head. Jeff was either still testing her, or he had forgotten some things. "If...If you don't mind...I'd rather have a coke float and a cheeseburger with fries." If -that- didn't get through to Jeff, she didn't know what would. It was what she'd always gotten when she'd come in here after school. Though it hadn't been a bar then, but Shelly's Diner...
Dolly looked at her and . "Sorry, we can't make floats. I can get you a Coke, though. If that's okay?"
"No floats...?" She shook her head, feeling once again the gaping hole of the thirty years she'd missed ache in her mind. Her face fell--she'd missed that along with so many other things...especially the way Shelly had made it, it'd never tasted quite right to her anywhere else. "I guess a plain coke will be ok then."
As the waitress moved off, Melissa turned to face Jeff, absently twisting a strand of hair between two fingers. "I...I'm not sure where to start. Or even if I should've come--no, that's wrong. I -had- to...you could be in a lot of trouble though..." She looked around the room at the other patrons and staff, then back to Jeff.
Jeff didn't know what her problem was. What he was interested in was what she knew about Melissa. The more he looked at her, the more he thought about his missing sister. He'd even started imagining that she was plugged straight into Melissa's mind. All the little cues he'd never paid attention to when she was...
He shook his head slowly as he looked for his drink. "Don't worry about me ... I don't have much left to lose, these days." His eyes turned to her and she could see the pain there. "Tell me what brought you to me. I have to know what you know."
"I...I know, that's what I c-came for. It's just that--I'm not sure where to begin..."
Her eyes met his then: if she could still cry, there would have been tears running down her face at that moment. As it was, it was clear she was in as much pain as he was if not more.
Without her realizing it, her hand came forward to rest on his, just the way she'd used to do when she'd seen him sad, even when she'd been too young to understand what the problem was.
"I..." Every instinct in her wanted to just blurt the truth out here and now, she knew he'd never believe it, though. Not yet. "I'll tell you as much as I can, as I know..." ::oh, Jeff, pick up on this, on what I -can't- say right out, please?::
The short hairs on the back of Jeff's neck stood up. Things were getting -very- weird here, and he pulled his hand back before he ended up in the Twilight Zone.
"Okay, just calm down and go on."
She nodded, struggling to contain herself, the urge to simply hug him was almost overwhelming.
After a moment or two, she was able to meet his eyes again. "I'm just looking for where to start. Those...those things you showed me, they were..." ::mine!:: she wanted to blurt out, stopping herself from doing that only with effort. "...your sister's." she said the last two words in a rush, desperate to get them out before she lost what nerve she had left. ::Jeff--it's *me*, I'm here, please *see* it, please...::
"All right. That doesn't tell me why you came to my office, though."
"I said I'd tell you what I could, and I will. It's just that there's pieces missing, things you could fill in...it'd give me a place to start telling you from. Melissa..." she couldn't keep the trembling out of her voice try though she might it was worse than ever.. "what happened to her...thirty years...ago?"
"She disappeared. Some people thought she ran off with her boyfriend. Others said he kidnapped her. I don't think anyone -really- knows." He paused, looking at her trembling more and more with each passing moment. "Do you?"
These last words were too much, she couldn't speak, only clutch at his hands nodding frantically while gasping out tearless sobs.
She tried to say something one more time, only a sob came out then she flung herself into his arms crying out the pent up emotions of the last hours...::thirty *years* oh god Jeff I'm so sorry I'm so sorry...::
Jeff watched with wide eyes as this young woman ripped the table from the floor and threw it into the narrow aisle of the bar. He could see a thin nimbus of light around her as she rushed towards him, and his arms went around her in a reflexive catch. There had been no time to do anything else.
Everyone else in the bar either turned and stared, dove for cover, or headed for the door in a mad rush to escape. Drinks and food went flying, and Dolly was knocked to the floor by a panicked patron. Jeff felt something tingly flow through his body when she touched him, but knew nothing else as his world turned dark.
Outside, Morgan spotted the fleeing patrons just as he approached the tiny tavern. He'd 'borrowed' one of the local taxis and had planned to take Melissa and her brother for a little drive so that they could talk. Looking through the wall, he knew that plan was going to be cancelled, as he saw Melissa on her way to another critical overload. Moving as quickly as he could, he parked the car while transforming into a policeman.
Exiting the vehicle, he ran quickly up to the bar's door and helped the people out until he could get through and inside. Melissa was sobbing, apparantly not noticing that her brother was being bombarded by the energies her body was leaking. He was at the least, unconscious, and Morgan didn't want to read his sensor data in case Jeff was worse. The barmaid was lying on the floor, partially trampled by the mindless escapees. His skin blackened as he began to absorb Melissa's radiating eneergy, but he lifted the waitress from the floor and knew that he could somehow help her.
When he reached the back of the bar, the barmaid's bones were already realigned. Morgan didn't understand how, but he didn't question it, either. He put his free hand on Melissa's shoulder and felt the surge of power pass into him. He was already dangeerously overcharged himself, having done nothing big enough to discharge the energy in a constructive way.
"Stop this!" he said, firmly speaking with his own voice.. "You're coming with me."
Distraught and not improving, Melissa stood and Morgan put the disheveled barmaid down on an empty stretch of bar. He then moved to lift Jeff onto his shoulder and by then the bar was empty except for the still unconscious barmaid. His polychromatic skin could have made him invisible, but not the man he carried or the woman he led, so he changed into a paramedic's soft blues and went outside. The locals still hadn't arrived on the scene, and he'd taken care of the shadow men who had been nearby. If he could just get them to the car...
"You -have- to calm down," he said, even as he analyzed her data for a way to render her unconscious. "I can't keep this up much longer."
As it was, he was a danger to those around him. If his energy matrix couldn't bleed off some of the excess power soon, the entire containment field could collapse and he would explode with cataclysmic effects. He knew all of this, yet he continued on, trying to maintain what little cover they still had in the small town. The taxi was less than a dozen yards away, still sitting by the curb where he'd left it. Jeff's vital signs were unstable and worsening due to his exposure to Melissa's radiant energy. Morgan risked moving a little faster, almost sprinting to the vehicle.
He was loading Jeff into the back seat when a passer-by stopped. Morgan looked at him and said, "I need this taxi to get these two to a hospital, the ambulance is full! Go down to the bar and help the others! Hurry!"
The good-natured man didn't hesitate to nod and move on. Morgan almost trembled with relief. He entered the vehicle through the passenger door, towing Melissa behind him, his hand holding hers the whole time.
"Close the door," he said, starting the engine. She did so even as they pulled away from the curb, and Morgan carefully plotted a slow route out of town.
Melissa sat where he'd placed her, her eyes closed, her shoulders shaking as she fought to regain control of herself. Finally she did manage to damp things down to where she was no longer glowing.
"Jeff..." she whispered..."please be okay...don't let me have hurt you any more than I already have." Turning to Morgan/Scott, "I..I'm sorry...I know I screwed up in there, you...you don't have to tell me."
"I wasn't going to. You -have- to know that this will not go unnoticed." He kept scanning Jeff, not liking the way things were looking. "The energy you release is toxic to humans. It's like ... neutrinos, but not. Earth science doesn't have a name for it than I'm aware of. It plays billiards with the chromosome chains, damaging them."
Morgan kept driving, trying to think of a way to vent the energy bottled up inside him. Finally, he heeded the warnings of the alarms inside his mind and pulled the taxi over. Half-turning towards Melissa, he said, "I have to discharge some of this energy I've absorbed. I have to go out into space for a while. Maybe ... twenty minutes. You should take Jeff and go someplace away from this vehicle. It won't take them long to track it down."
* * *
On an artificial island in the South Seas, a beautiful woman with long white hair and eyes of sparkling blue sat behind a mahogany desk. Around her, the office was both functional and pleasing to the eye, with antique furnishings and soft carpeting. Her bare feet massaged themselves against the carpet while she read a very recent report from one of her field agents. Inside the report were surveillance photos taken with a very long lens by a very nervous woman. The photos were of a base which was among the most secret in North America, but which was not a secret to her. That was her vocation, discovering secrets.
In the past, she would have been the equivalent of a spy, but she was among the elite of the new 'information brokers'. Even though she was only thirty-three, she looked more like twenty-five.
"Miss Hollingsworth," she said, looking at the single most remarkable photo of the lot. "You have earned youself a -damn- good bonus."
The photo was one-in-a-million, the combinations of light and shadow falling perfectly to illuminate and outline the body of the only man to fly on the Earth under his own power. She'd been staring at it for a full five minutes before she had said a word. Her finger traced the sculpted curves, looking at them and remembering another set of curves. It had only been one time, one night, but it had changed the course of her life.
"Thank you, Lord," she said. "I owe you big for this one."
Touching her desktop, a built in terminal came to life. The sound of telephone tones sounded softly, followed by a ringing. It was an unlisted number which routed to a very private phone. On the other end, a gentle woman's voice answered. A woman who's life had also been forever altered by the course of a very short span of time.
"Yes?"
"He's alive, Magda. Morgan's alive. I have the proof in my hand, but you're not going to believe it, even when you see it."
A long silence followed. Constance waited, having anticipated it. Finally, the chestnut haired woman spoke again. "W-Where?"
"He could be anywhere, but at least he's finally escaped from that hellhole. The area's been sealed. I can't get -anyone- near the place, but he's not there. He got away. He got -away-!"
"Can we find him?"
"He'll find us. Is Bianca in class?"
"She's just been picked up by our driver, but I'll keep her home once she gets back. Have you told the boys?"
"I -just- got the picture, Magda. You know I wouldn't make you wait for something like this. Telling them now will just get them excited for no purpose. We don't know how long it'll take for him to feel safe enough to come to us. Besides, he ... doesn 't quite look the way we knew him."
"It's -been- ten years," Magda answered. "We're not quite the people we were then, either."
"I know. We're -better-."
Both women laughed, trying to deal with what was facing them. What they'd hoped for so long to -have- to deal with. The waiting which had grown so hard had just magnified as the distance across time had shortened. He might well find them at any hour, at any -minute-, and then there would be surprises all around. Constance looked at the three nearly identical faces looking at her from their photographs and wondered how they would take the news.
* * *
Los Angeles, California...
Magda, now Magda Whitehall-Parafaith, hung up the phone she carried with her at all times. She had come a long way since her days on the LVPD. Since Morgan. Moving to the front of her home outside the city, she looked at the lights and remembered that time as if it were only yesterday. He'd been strange in an incredibly endearing way, almost like someone from another world but with a gentleness which had touched her. Even now, after ten years, it still made her feel warm.
Her time with him had made many changes in her life. Watching the car drive up to the front of the house, Magda looked at the greatest change as her daughter stepped out of the car and bounded towards the house, a nine year old bundle of seemingly infinite energy on two legs, with long jet black hair and the most striking violet eyes.
Magda met her at the door, putting her phone back into her pocket. No one ever hit it really big in Vegas, but that hadn't stopped her from trying. On the day of her daughter's birth, she played the biggest interstate lottery using her birth date, her daughter's, and that of the man who had been the seed of her greatest joy. When she left the hospital with her child, she left as a multi-millionaire.
Work on the Vegas PD had been dangerous, and now that she had a daughter to care for, she no longer cared to risk her own life to protect those who would never even know she was doing it. She quit the police force and opened a security firm using some of her winnings. Living in a world of paranoia and urban dread made security very desirable and very profitable.
Bianca was all smiles, and a sheet of paper was waving in her hand as the door opened to admit her. She was hopping, radiant, and hopelessly cheerful. "Mama, Mama! The teacher gave me an 'A' on my article! They're going to print it in the school paper!"
Magda looked at her daughter, and then at the paper she was waving about. It was an article about the recent nuclear accident further north, telling how the government had been disposing of unstable missile warheads, and how one of the trucks had suffered an accident, detonating its cargo.
"That's -great-, sweetie."
Bianca went on, still full of steam. "Mama, who were those two men parked outside the gate? They drove away when the car pulled up. Are you hiring some new guards?"
"No, sweetness. I wasn't planning on it. Did you get a good look?"
Bianca nodded. "They wore dark clothes and sunglasses. One of them had a videocamera."
A trickle of fear traveled up Magda's spine. "You had the windows rolled up?"
Bianca's happiness collapsed a little. "But it's so -nice- outside... I'm sorry."
"It's okay, baby. Let's just go take care of your homework, and maybe we'll go on a little trip to see Aunt Connie for a few days. Would you like that?"
The brightness came back to the little girl's face. "Can we? Really?"
"Sure. You go start packing, and I'll call the school to tell them you'll be away for a while."
The little girl practically vanished up the spiral staircase to the house's second floor. Magda quickly pulled out her telephone and made sure the scrambler was active. The response was almost immediate.
"Go."
"Constance, I'm being watched. I'm bringing Bianca out to the island for a while."
"All right, can you lose them?"
"I'm going to send the plane to Washington, and the lookalikes will be on it."
"Good. I'll set up the Lear at LAX."
"All right. Thanks. I guess this is all the proof I need. We'll be there in a few hours."
"They were watching him even then. I just wish I knew -why-. Well, we'll talk about it when you get here."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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