Chapter 1

The young man with the jet black hair that was combed in the ‘Armani’ style stubbed his cigarette out by pressing the smoking end into the marble ashtray on his desk. Deep-set emerald green eyes shone with brilliance but were achingly sad as well. He was extremely attractive, with much of his beauty radiating from the inside. It was perhaps uncanny to call a man ‘beautiful’. The word had been once the prerogative of women. But he really was. There was no other way to describe him. He radiated melancholic goodness.

Isaiah Raily watched the orange glow sparked with a last attempt at luster and died soon after. It could not burn the cool marble even if it tried its hardest. The ashtray was a reluctant present from his late mother, a bible-thumping woman who picked his name from the Old Testament, who had always been trying to get him to quit smoking. She was a dear old biddy and he missed her. He missed her very much.

Nobody knew how to address him besides occasionally clumsily tripping over the three syllables of his name. An obvious abbreviation would be Isa of course which was disallowed in any circumstances. Isa was the Arabic name for Jesus and anyone who called Isaiah that would have committed blasphemy in his mother’s opinion. Very staunch opinions.

But he knew what to call me. He calls me ‘saiah.

Saiah.

His thoughts wandered to the deep sorrow that plagued him for far too many years. In his reverie, he had not noticed Grey Man approaching his desk and throwing a thin file onto his table. Only after Grey Man knocked the table twice did he broke from his trance-like state. When he spotted the brown, unassuming file, he just wanted to rip it up into a million pieces.

In moments like these, I seriously wonder about the capabilities of my mind…why I am still in The Network: Special Unit when I just want to split.

The secrets of his life were overbearing. There he was, twenty-five years old with the weight of the world on his shoulders. His piling work was non-existent, and if The Network could have their way, he would be non-existent. The life of a secret agent was never conducive for life. He was talent-spotted while he was a policeman with the NYPD; his knack for getting into the minds of criminals most of the times with frightening accuracy both a bane and a boon.

Because I don’t like it. I don’t like knowing how to dissect those perverted minds…like just know. And I don’t like it when I’m wrong…and they become all disappointed with me.

“Yes Grey? A new case or an old one we screwed up?” He greeted his mentor wearily, with a soft, raspy and yet low voice. He was just back from a vacation in one of the few heavens left on Earth- an island off the coast of Trengganu, Malaysia called Perhentian. He had not imagined such beauty and simplicity still existing in the world, side by side the one which was his- filled with horrors after horrors of what mankind was capable of.

The sea was clear blue, the clarity so intense that you can see right through to the seabed. Every morning, colorful, exotic fishes greet you as you lazily snorkel in the vast pool of liquid crystal…feeling the waters washing over you, washing away your troubles. Sandy white beaches become your perpetual bed.

I don’t really want to come back. Just stay there…like the Japanese tourist who had set foot once and never left- doing odd jobs for so many years just to spend the rest of his life in that unbelievable heaven.

“Very funny. It’s just the profile of your new partner. I thought you may be interested. He came highly recommended by the FBI. They felt that he needed a career more ‘out of the ordinary’. With Alan’s passing, you need a partner. I thought I’ll assign him to you.” Grey Man explained in that flat drone of his. Everything about Grey Man was flat and grey. Sometimes, even his protégé had trouble remembering the ordinary face. Lackluster brown eyes, graying brown hair and a ‘roundish’ face were Grey Man’s best defense against those who sought his identity. His physical appearance was simply too unassuming and that made him too deadly.

Alan…how can I forget? My third partner in 3 years.

Isaiah raised a brow in a questioning look and used the tip of his pen to lift the cover of the profile. He was dreading a new partner. He hoped he never had to remember the name. Another partner seemed to be another name to send a wreath to after some time. Isaiah had his share of wounds but he always miraculously slipped past Death’s grip.

Isaiah. My name. It means Salvation of God. Guess I can’t preach salvation if I’m dead.

As usual, on the first page of any hardcopy of an agent’s profile would be a non-flattering photo. However, there was no way to make the man being photographed any less than gorgeous. Light blond hair, almost a striking sheen of whiteness from some angles and deep blue eyes like the depths of the ocean. His coldness was such that the camera could catch it even in still form.

Isaiah would remember the face anywhere, in any form. He could never forget it; he could never want to forget it. The moment he had some cash of his own from part-time work while he was a teenager, he had hired a PI to track this boy…no…man…down. He continued tracking him until the subject turned twenty-one. Isaiah could finally find some peace, knowing he was safe and would have a bright future ahead of him.

He graduated with perfect SAT scores from a run-down high school. Went to Yale. Graduated with top honors and a direct Masters from an accelerated course.

Why will he be here? He should not be here.

This is so like the movies. I have been searching for him, knowing where he is and yet not daring to let my presence be known. And now, he’s here.

After all these years.

My brother. We should never have separated.

“Saiah! Saiah! No!!! Don’t….please!!!! I want to be with Saiah!!!! Don’t leave me with daddy!!! Mommy…please….”

His last outburst that I’ve seen and heard.

Isaiah flinched from the painful memories that were forever etched in his mind. He was only ten. Elijah was a precocious eight-year old then.

“Are you doing this purposely? We are not like the Hardy Boys that you pinned so much hopes on to one day join us…not that loving brothers' crap. If I’m lucky, he may not kill me before the day is over. If you’re so desperate for a brothers’ united-together team, you can wait for Frank Hardy to graduate in a year’s time.”

“SAIAH!!!!”

Grey Man’s face shadowed over and he coughed uneasily. Isaiah heard about the plight of the Hardy Brothers of course. They were famous, having helped The Network cracked many cases which they had so brazenly ‘invited’ themselves into. The most famous exploit of theirs that was being reiterated all over The Network was how they helped stop a hydrogen bomb from exploding in a volcano somewhere in Indonesia.

“I’m sorry. What I meant was…it won’t work out. It’s better for you to assign him to the branch in Chicago…better if we don’t see each other.” Isaiah’s tone became gentler when he saw the brief moment of sadness on Grey’s face before the mien became all indifferent again.

“Better for you or for him? Anyway, it’s not done purposely. You need a partner and up he pops at the right time. Who knows, fate has a funny way of working things out.”

Isaiah surveyed the office. It was like any posh commercial offices, white tables, white walls and white blinds, giving that sanitary feel. Yet, hidden minute cameras and other assorted security instruments kept the office constantly closely watched, without alerting the agents of their presence- concealed enough to give the agents that false sense of privacy.

“So where’s he going to sit? Everyone used Alan’s desk like an extra storage space…tons of files to clear.”

“Then everyone will just have to sort out the files and take theirs away. He’s arriving tomorrow, still being briefed at our “fantasy” headquarters. Maybe you can grab this chance Fate is giving you…work out some demons.” Grey Man’s drone let slip and some concern crept inside the words.

Isaiah gave Grey a tight smile. “You meant God.”

“No. Fate. I’m agnostic, remember? Don’t try to convince me.” Grey Man spoke, half-jokingly.

“Nope, was not going to. Not feeling right for a theoretical debate now. Just found it weird that you can believe in Fate and not God.”

Grey Man’s mien lost that momentarily slight mirth. “Well, because…just because. Be nice to your partner. Just like I’m your mentor, you’re now his.”

I will be nice. I can’t be anything but nice. But he won’t be. He hates me.

“No problem. Like I said…it won’t work out.” Isaiah tossed the file aside. Whatever was written in it he would have already known like the back of his hand. Pretending to type in some report on his workstation, he gestured his wish for Grey Man to leave him alone- a wish which was granted.

Isaiah then stopped all pretense of work. After glancing around and noticing that the other two agents in that section were indifferent to whatever he was doing, he retrieved the profile from the side of his right-angled table and gingerly perused through it.

Elijah. I wonder if you knew you’ll be coming here. Can you recognize me still?

But it’s not that long. We met last face to face when I’m twenty and you were almost eighteen. Attended your convocation, heard you gave your speech as you took your place as Valedictorian. You don’t even want to speak to me.

Lijah.

And he closed his eyes, hearing the eight-year old Elijah screamed his name over and over again as he was being carried away by their despicable father- in hysterics- after their parents signed the divorce papers.

Wen Li-Lin, or better known as Lynn since all the Americans here thought that her name was Wen Li, which was so presumptuous of them. Asians placed their surnames first, a long-standing tradition that the ‘Family’ comes first. Thus her name was Li-Lin, not Wen Li and definitely not Li-Lin Wen. However, after being so frustrated by many who could not grasp the different culture, she let them call her by the name Lynn- her Baptism name adopted so many years ago.

Well, it’s close enough to Li-Lin.

Lynn waited for Isaiah to emerge from the commercial building. She was outstation for a couple of days which she really enjoyed, because she hated being trapped in the office. Always a little impatient, she was slightly annoyed when he was taking ten minutes too long.

After a while, she saw him emerged from the glass erection. There he was, a 6ft 2 inches lean and well-built man with the deep tan. He was handsome, in the out-worldly manner and they had been dating non-exclusively for the past two years.

I’m non-exclusive but he sees only me. Sorry Isaiah, today’s not the day I’ll commit to you.

Her silky, short black hair brushed against the nap of her neck as she turned around and started walking into the direction of the restaurant at 42nd Street, New York, that they were supposed to be having dinner in. This was her way. He knew that she was just being Lynn, not snubbing him or anything. Very soon, she felt him right by her side, slipping his hand in hers.

“Tough day.” He muttered as they crossed the heavy traffic to a small, beige-colored building. The human traffic was also appalling but as usual, even with the never-softening din, she heard him. They were trained to hear each other- even when the speaker was not speaking.

He knows my heart.

“Why?”

“Tell you later.” He took out his cigarette case and stuck one stick into his mouth, before reaching into his pants’ pocket to put the case back and to retrieve a sleek lighter. Smoking took some of his stress away and maybe warmed him in the Autumn chill, though hurting his body and those who breathed in the second-hand smoke in the process.

But it gives him and me cancer. Ok…will give. I wish he will see the evils of the cigarette.

They stepped into the little restaurant that was thankfully very good and yet not popular enough for it to lose its homely charms. Mrs. Greenfields, the owner of the restaurant spotted her regulars and very effusively welcomed them, hugging Lynn tightly and clapping Isaiah on the back like how a gung-ho mother would.

“Haven’t seen you kids for…like a week? I’ve always reserved the table for you two, will never let anyone take it during dinnertime. So, what do you wish today?” She led the couple to their usual table, the one in the corner, next to the glass window that would give them an unobstructed view of the bustling city.

“Fish N Chips.” Lynn answered chirpily at the kind old lady who could never fail to make her feel warm and welcomed. Isaiah nodded and indicated that he wanted the same.

When Mrs. Greenfields left them, Lynn took a sip of the ice water and observed Isaiah’s troubled look. Isaiah was always troubled. He was terribly sweet and terribly haunted by memories that he could only reveal a little of to her. He had propped his head up by resting his elbow on the table and resting his chin on the clenched fist, his eyes pensive. Lynn reached for a piece of napkin and waved it in front of him.

“Hey! Earth to Isaiah Raily! You’re ignoring me…”

“Am I? Sorry…I’m not myself today.” He apologized, having woken from his deep, dark thoughts. Lynn felt sorry for him. Normally, Isaiah would get a mild bout of depression after a terrible case. The previous one had his partner killed and Grey promptly sent him off to a vacation for a month.

A month. That’s unheard of in the Network.

The nature of Isaiah case-solving methods was also a highly intense one- one that would leave him feeling all tired and exhausted with the world at times. But Isaiah Raily was a stoic creature, unable to bow down to any trials that came his way. Isaiah always had a sweet, sad hope in him that one day; he would find peace and start living a beautiful life.

Which he can never if he stays in the Network…or if he doesn’t untie the knots in his heart.

She pouted and sipped her water again. He cocked his head to one side and pretended to investigate each and every contours of her face. Glowering even more, she raised a questioning brow.

“Anyone told you the girl in the cartoon Final Fantasy looks a lot like you?”

“Just because I’m Chinese? She’s supposed to be Japanese.”

“Yes…but you’re so much prettier.”

Lynn took the compliments in her stride. She was used to being called gorgeous in that exotic manner. And many times, strangers would come up to her and asked her if she was the model for the cartoon and she would smile tightly in response. The first few times were amusing. After that, it got irritating. The cartoon was passé but Isaiah, being slow to the entertainment scene, only just caught the show on VCD.

Strangers too came up to her and just tell her she was beautiful. Some with ulterior motives, some genuinely complimenting her for something that she felt they should accolade the Creator for, not her.

I’m not boastful…just that…I did not come up with the blueprint for my face and neither did I help to sculpt it. All I have done is slab on thick layers of night cream.

“Thank you. So, what’s troubling you?” She was never one to beat around the bush, always straightforward and yet, casual in her manner of questioning with the lithe voice of hers, like many Asians would have. Higher pitched and perhaps for some, slightly more sonorous due to the nature of the Asian languages.

Isaiah took a deep breath and stubbed out his cigarette. He reached for his own glass of water and sipped it deliberately. Lynn waited until he was physically ready to tell her. She knew he was already mentally prepared to unload as much as he could to her.

“You know how the cosmic works? It’s so funny…but…I think my own estranged brother is going to be my partner,” Isaiah spoke in seeming disbelief.

Lynn swallowed a little harder than usual, a little startled by the news. Isaiah had told her about Elijah before. How they used to be very close when they were kids and suddenly, when Elijah turned eleven, he stopped writing long, heartfelt letters to Isaiah- writing because their father forbade Elijah to use the phone. Elijah was a sneaky child though- he would phone Isaiah when he could, most likely getting punished in the process.

Their father died when Elijah was thirteen. Their mother, who had custody of Isaiah, refused to take Elijah back. Elijah was shuffled from foster home to foster home. He finally settled down in an orphanage until he graduated from high school with a scholarship to Yale- not yet turned eighteen.

Secrets. Isaiah had a lot of secrets. There were so much gaps that he was not filling in for Lynn. And she wondered if he was hiding those facts, unable to speak of them or that he had no knowledge of them either.

He’s guilty. Because he grew up with a religious mother who loved him dearly and he had no lack of anything. Elijah is where he is today by his own efforts.

And he thinks that’s why Elijah hates him, stopped writing to him the moment their father died- a homicide case of which Elijah was acquitted and the murderer never found.

Through Isaiah’s words that were impassive and at the same time, filled with latent love whenever he spoke of Elijah, Lynn felt she already knew Elijah. Maybe not all of Elijah but some parts of it. Being in her line of work, she could deduce very logically that Elijah would be one demented young man. Or at least, someone very disturbed.

Isaiah’s very disturbed.

“Ah…well…your wish is granted. Re-united with your brother.”

“Who told you that was my wish?” Isaiah narrowed his eyes, worried. He was always worried when she could read too well into him.

“You. You have been telling me with your words whenever you talked about him.”

“Is it?” Isaiah was slightly baffled but he relaxed and smiled to himself quietly. “Yah…maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m worried for nothing.”

“I was always wondering…if your mom’s so religious…why would she not want Elijah back? Why would she dump Elijah with your abusive father?” Lynn voiced her opinions. She was always vociferously, unable to contain whatever she wanted to say- unable to mince words well.

Isaiah eyes clouded over as the shadow descended upon him like a comfortable veil once again. “My mom’s religious but she’s not perfect. Some knots are harder to untie. Before she died, she told me to find Elijah. She wanted so much to say sorry. But she never could bring herself to.

“Because she too was afraid.”

Chapter 2

Brother: Son of same parents; one closely united with another. – Collins Gem English Dictionary, 1985.

Elijah Raily took in the functional glass building which sat so contentedly and relaxingly among the skyscrapers of New York. He absorbed in the details- memorizing every nook and crannies of the medium-sized structure that he could discover. It was a habit he had cultivated- awareness. He hated to not be aware, well, maybe not hated. Hate was an emotion. He ceased to let himself feel strong, disturbing emotions. Once in a while, he would be amused, annoyed, and sarcastic or simultaneously feel other assorted little distractions. But never hate and love. Never anything that was overwhelming- that was crippling.

Nice building. Very adept camouflage. No one would guess unless someone screws up.

A sudden gust of cold wind blew right then but Elijah was colder still. He chilled the wind as it touched him and escaped hurriedly from the hostile figure. Elijah compressed his lips and strode condescendingly towards the office building, with a plagued naming it as ‘Tech Enterprise’.

What an unintelligent name, even if it is a front.

He walked up the pseudo marble steps, pushed his way through the revolving door and almost glided past the archway. To the untrained eye, it was a mere fixture to boast of wealth. To him, it was a sensor and a detector, made to look decorative.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted faint blinking red lights in obscured crooks. Surveying the room, he identified the most sophisticated surveillance equipment ever being developed. Well, he could not exactly catch sight of those minute cameras but those extremely faint blinking red lights gave him some clues.

The receptionist, a sweet young thing of about twenty-five, greeted him but he thought nothing of her. He was very efficient and would never let anybody or any redundant thoughts hinder or delay him. She had smiled sweetly and her smile grew wider when she actually really saw him.

He was used to it. There he was, a specimen of exquisiteness incarnated. A lean angular face with chiseled cheekbones and deep set wide blue eyes that pierced through everyone and everything. He hardly smiled- so no wrinkles marred the face, though its unblemished and deadly smoothed surface made him ageless- not young; and definitely not old. Everything about him was sleek and cutting. Only his straight blond hair- his almost whitish blond hair- was soft.

But he was not arrogant about his beauty- his looks. His biological parents had been very good-looking people. He simply acknowledged it, like how he acknowledged his strengths and weakness. If it could help him achieve a certain aim, good. If one day, it would prove to cause his final downfall, he would disfigure himself in a split second.

Biological parents. That’s all they are. Biological. No spiritual bonds, no emotional baggage.

That was how he dealt with the weaknesses he found in himself. He eliminated them. Emotions and feelings were what he termed as weaknesses. So he burned them and pounded the ashes into nothingness, especially the one called Love. Resentment was still bearable at times, though he was also aware that it could hurt him.

“What can I do for you?” She asked him in a faked sultry voice as her eyes lingered on his physique, probably wondering if there was a mean six-pack within the sharp suit accentuating the lean, muscular figure.

He stared right through her, treating her as nothing more than an entity to traverse in order to reach his destination. He had no need to remember her- she was not worthy of his considerations.

“I need to get to the Resource Department immediately.” He spoke, his lips barely moving, using the front title for the Special Unit. The voice was so quiet and yet so harsh. An extremely unfriendly tone was being used. It was his nature. Everything about him kept people away. Despite his achievements; his gorgeousness, Elijah Raily had no friends and he needed none.

Friends. They’re just people who interfere with your life for a while. And then they’ll go after leaving a wreck behind.

So why should I waste my time?

The young thing who had been staring at his physical manifestation in blatant admiration curled her lips the moment he finished speaking. The undeserving hostility was readily detected and, understandably, Elijah repulsed her immediately.

Fine by me “darling”.

“Eighth Floor, second door. You’ll need your security card to get through the platform and activate the elevator.” She switched her attention to the workstation and Elijah left immediately after obtaining the piece of information without a word of thanks or even a brief nod in acknowledgement that the information was received.

Elijah followed her instructions and reached his destination in no time- keeping his head down all the way, not wanting to let his face be caught by the hidden; intrusive cameras.

“Here’s where you’ll be working…they’ve cleared the desk pretty well…” Grey Man showed the young man around. Elijah was the only agent who was allowed to join the Network even before he actually turned twenty-two. His intelligence was well-recognized and it was precisely because of the astuteness of his mind- the keen methodical logical deducing habit- that Elijah was picked from a handful of candidates recommended by the CIA, the FBI and the Military.

And he would complement his brother well. How strange…for Isaiah to be the one relying on his finely honed ability to empathize and Elijah to be the one to deduce everything by logic. The roles are almost reversed.

Even the relationship. They can learn a thing or two from the Frank and Joe. Speaking of which, I’m almost missing the meddlesome young men.

Almost.

They spell trouble. We have enough of troubles.

Elijah said nothing. Did nothing. Moved not a single muscle. Looking at the young man, Grey wondered suddenly if he came highly recommended because nobody in his previous workplace actually liked him.

A marble statue. Everything about Elijah Raily was like a marble statue- pale, cold, unflinching. Indifferent. Impassive.

“Your partner will arrive shortly. Unlike other departments, we’re very flexible with time. You only need to report to your office thrice a week to remind us of your presence if you’re not outstation, a practice observed only to save us precious time from wondering if you’re dead or alive. And crack all cases that comes to you quickly- that’s very important or you’ll just be wasting taxpayers’ money. That’s all you need to fulfill.” Grey Man droned, detesting every passing minute that he was standing next to the emotionless droid.

He watched Elijah from the corner of his eyes. Occasionally, those deep blue eyes would blink out of necessity. Sometimes, Elijah’s steady breathing might fall out of rhythm but that was all. When Grey had asked for feedback, Elijah simply nodded so slightly that Grey felt he had imagined the response, or a soft and short “Hmm,” that could hardly be heard.

Almost having enough of briefing to a wall shaped like a human being, Grey Man heard the office door creaked opened and was ever so grateful for the entrance of Isaiah. The other two agents sharing the little office were off on some case that they had just been assigned to in the morning.

That’s my life. Our life. Where our offices are doesn’t really matter. You can just enter and be called off to Papua New Guinea if you’re needed there.

Which is why I always have an overnight bag handy.

The moment the gratefulness passed- which was a split second later- Grey felt a little worried about how the two divided brothers would greet and receive each other. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Isaiah froze.

I’ve told him yesterday. Maybe a little more than twelve hours is not enough for him to be prepared.

Even I have gotten a shock. I think we have recruited a robot, not an agent who’s a human being.

The statue next to Grey turned towards Isaiah’s direction, having heard the door opened as well. Grey felt comforted for a minute that Elijah was perhaps still capable of some feelings- for the large, deep set blue eyes widened ever so vaguely.

“Lia…Elijah…” Isaiah greeted his brother first, tripping over the name shakily.

The corners of the marble sculpture’s translucent crimson lips lifted a little in the tightest faux smile that Grey had ever seen.

Isaiah shifted uncomfortably.

“So…we’re partners…hmm…there’re no cases yet, right Grey?” Isaiah transferred his attention to Grey, very affected by his non-responsive brother, looking for something familiar and friendly to hold on to.

“No. And in our line, it’s a good thing to be paid for doing nothing. It means for a few days, the world is relatively safe.”

Elijah broke into a silent half-smile; his expressionless mien actually seemed cynical.

“You’re an idiot to think that. I will have thought your experience will have given you more sense.” The lips moved, the words came out. Grey Man wondered if it was actually spoken.

“Excuse me?” He was very peeved. First he had to deal with the deepest depths of reticent that he could ever find in a human being. Now, he had to deal with undeserving sarcasm at a well-meaning attempt to break the ice.

“The world is not safe. Deal with it.” Elijah answered flatly, his vacuous and strangely fixating gaze still rested on Isaiah whose eyes were darting everywhere; looking at everything- but his brother.

Grey curled his lips in displeasure. He knew that of course. It was a fact that people never learned from mistakes- that violence only begets violence; hurt begets more hurt. Yet to hear it spoken with such blandness made it seemed like the speaker did not care; did not wish to care. And Grey Man was in this line because he cared.

“You’re not a very nice person to be with, aren’t you?” He stated, speaking the truth from his own observations. Isaiah raised a brow in discomfiture and compressed his lips, probably afraid of Elijah’s reaction.

“No. I’m not. And I’m finding you very irritating and ignorant.”

Grey Man sucked in a breath while Isaiah gave him an apologetic look. The bond of brotherhood still mattered much to Isaiah such that he felt responsible for his little brother’s misbehavior.

“Whatever you wish. Isaiah, I hope you have better luck.” Grey Man bade Isaiah good wishes of sorts and walked away into his private office.

Elijah had Grey Man almost storming off in anger but the veteran secret agent had too much experiences dealing with criminals and terrorists of all kind such that he did not allow himself to show the true intensity of his displeasure.

But Elijah saw the flinching. He did not gloat or anything. If someone wanted to be hurt by his words, he could hardly be bothered. Seemingly vacantly staring at Grey Man’s broad retreating back, no one would have guessed that Elijah was summing up the nondescript man, replaying the mostly one-sided conversations in his mind- clockworks churning to study the nuances of Grey Man that Elijah memorized to deduce some aspects of a person he would have to deal with in future.

Always looking at his watch. This man is pressed for time. Bitten fingernails on both the little fingers. He can be nervous but doesn’t like to show it probably. Yet, he could not rid himself of it. His shirt has a week-old stain on the breast pocket, most probably from some meal. Nobody does his laundry for him. This man is a solitary soul. But from his mannerism…

And so thoughts like that ran through his mind. He was not trying to empathize with the person, no…he would never want to empathize or sympathize with anyone- he was merely observing and inferring.

After a rough idea of Grey Man’s nature that he was satisfied with formed in his mind, he realized that he was rooted in the same position for quite some time- right in front of Isaiah, a figure from his past. Isaiah had finally decided to face him and even mustering a smile.

Smile lines mingled with frown trails. Tired eyes. Dark circles masked by a tanned skin. Just went for a holiday somewhere since the weather is too cold to receive a tan here. High Strung.

Old partner’s desks seemed recently cleared. No settlement of dust yet. Probably died recently or that the desk was actually used for other purposes.

He is uncomfortable to look at me- talk to me. Be with me.

Though Elijah would never admit it, he was rather awkward himself as well but more startled. But he could mask those feelings very well with his stoned expression. His blue eyes did enlarged when he saw Isaiah, a little amused at the twists that Fate could wrung out. No matter how far he thought he had walked away from his old life- there he was, standing right in front of his biological elder brother.

Isaiah shoved his hands into his pocket and cocked his head to one side, still smiling. “So, how do you find this place?”

“A little too soon to be asking this, don’t you think?”

The black-haired man cringed a little at the implied sarcasm and stared down at the floor for a second before looking up again, trying to look as happy as he could.

“Yah…just…how’s life?”

Life? Just going through motions everyday, dealing with mundane people.

Elijah simply kept silent and Isaiah, after waiting for a few seconds, gestured a little nervously to the table behind Elijah.

“That’s yours. But we don’t have much to do now. How about grabbing some coffee? I can brief you on our specialized area. Special Unit…and all the crap that comes along with it.” Isaiah ventured for a chance to get closer to Elijah and Elijah inferred correctly. The blue eyes blinked deliberately, almost in scorn, had not the mien remained deadly still.

“Alright.” He answered curtly and still whispery.

Isaiah shrugged and turned around, but not before gesturing for Elijah to follow him which Elijah did. He did not like to follow anybody in any sense. But he knew he did not know the place well so he had to follow. If Isaiah was to discuss work with him, it would not be in any ordinary coffee lounge.

It would be in some place where the agents could actually talk about their work in a relaxed atmosphere, without having to fear leaking out any sensitive information.

Chapter 3

Change- v. Alter, make or become different; put on (different clothes, fresh coverings)….Collins Gem English Dictionary, 1985.

The private lounge in the basement of ‘Tech Enterprise’ was a place where the Network agents could hang out and talk shop in. However, its cozy ambience- topped with beanbags, plush sofas, jazz music and dimmed lights- could not fool the agents. They knew it was always closely scrutinized by hidden mechanized ‘eyes’. The walls were soundproof, like any other rooms in the building. Though they could just waltz into it with relative ease, the sensors at the sides of the door tracked their actions and scanned their security passes wherever they clipped it or place it, as long as it was on them. If the security pass was not present, the alarm would sound.

And if the perpetrator was a real agent, not an intruder, he would be deeply embarrassed.

As a safety precaution, somebody had suggested retinal scan as well on the pretext that the security passes could be stolen or faked in time. Though the idea brought some displeasures from the agents, who simply wanted to discuss work in an environment like any other coffee houses on the outside, it was being seriously considered because of the possibility of highly classified information floating in the air for whomever with ears to listen to.

Isaiah spotted his favorite corner at the far end. It was the most private spot he could find. Doing some investigation of his own, he realized that the design of the lounge was such that the cameras were unable to completely ‘catch’ the spot. Feeling a little like Winston Smith who had found that little niche in his apartment which would hide him from Big Brother*, Isaiah would go to this spot and use his notebook to type out those sensitive reports which could not see light of day and therefore could not be churn out anywhere else but in the office building; and still knew the information was kept secret while he could find some semblance of privacy.

“We can sit over there…” He pointed to the vacant couch. The lounge was pretty empty on a Friday afternoon. “Coffee and tea are on the table to your right and in the refrigerator you can find sandwiches, microwavable food and some snacks. Everything is free. Just take what you want.” He directed his brother. Elijah strolled over to the sofa that he pointed out with a grace that startled Isaiah.

Elijah’s personality changed was already known to Isaiah who had, in a way, became Big Brother by keeping tabs on his brother when he could. He was just heartbroken that Elijah was so different from Lijah. Looking at the ice-block, he saw the eight-year old and silently pleaded with him to come home.

Lijah…What have you grown into?

A stranger. You have grown into a stranger to me. A stranger with my brother’s face which used to be so innocent; so passionate.

And adorably precocious and precious.

And my little brother Lijah, the one I know…is dead.

No. He decided that he was not just heartbroken. He was terribly heartbroken; his heart wrenched and wrung tears to his eyes. Feeling the saline solution welling up, he turned away and pretended that his eyes were hurting so he could rub away the tears.

He made himself a cup of Latte and another for Elijah. When he finally went to the spot, he saw Elijah’s eyes scanning the lounge, taking in everything.

“It’s safe here. Made one for you.”

“Thank you.”

Too polite. Too robotic. You used to laugh so loudly and clap your hands in glee when you’re happy. You used to cry rivers of tears when you’re sad. And you used to have that wide-eyed expression still, even when Father kept hitting us so badly- you most of all.

You used to cling on to me, even as I encouraged you to be your own person.

It’s Father isn’t it? Father made you this way.

Isaiah wanted so much to talk about the events that had transpired in their private lives- events that could let him understand Elijah more. However, Elijah did not seem to be going to be forthcoming with details. Isaiah could feel it. Could feel Elijah’s hostility even through the thick layers of indifference.

“What’s our nature of work?” Elijah asked blandly when Isaiah had gone silent for far too long. The words came out haltingly, almost in staccatos as Elijah was speaking though lips stretched tightly. Isaiah speculated that that was the way Elijah behaved when he was annoyed that time was passing by them- those irretrievable seconds that would make up part of their life spent on Earth.

Isaiah thought about the cases he had, the run-ins with a nefarious group called Assassins. The horrors of tracing down doomsday cults, stopping events that would render a huge part of the world in debris. But he was not the only one fighting on the good side. He was but one of many. Quiet moments like this past week were not common. Grey Man was right. Quiet moments with nothing to stir the air, with nothing to create pandemonium gave Isaiah the hope that the world was becoming a more beautiful place to live in.

And Elijah was right too. They could not- because of a few placid seconds- become complacent. That would be to choose blindness over facing the ugly side of life. And Isaiah preferred to face the hideousness squarely- to eliminate it so innocents would not get hurt again.

But there are times when I really wish to just hide my head into the sand as the world passes me by.

And I did not face my father squarely. I did not.

I hid. I escaped.

He suffered.

“Terrorists, weird happenings…basically trying to stop events that could bring about the end of the world in a bad way. I’ll give you some files to peruse later on. There’s one group that we were hot on, a very secretive and very chaotic group called the Assassins but they died down in recent years. More religion- sensitive terrorists are popping up all over the place. Most are not handled by us. We are like a last resort or when the case that needed to be crack is very urgent and no one has the time.” Isaiah reiterated, not even knowing if what he spoke were true. At the moment he said them, it sounded right to his ears. Now, he was thinking if there were any loopholes.

“You mean we just do whatever they throw at us to do and that we deal mostly with terrorists,” Elijah summarized. “That you have no idea about the scope of our work, because there really isn’t any. Is that it?”

Elijah was making Isaiah feel very stupid which Isaiah knew he was not. No one who fell short of “genius” would be allowed into the Network. It was a given that only highly intelligent people would be selected. The standard could get compromised during a dry spell. However, most incompetent agents were weeded out as soon as they were spotted.

And be closely watched for the rest of their lives even though they are given EST to help them forget about their stint in the Network.

We signed the papers. We know what we are in for.

No regrets.

Plenty of heartaches.

“Yah, pretty much so.” Isaiah mumbled. Elijah no longer terrorized him as much with his wintry chill and still form. Isaiah had always seen Elijah as his little brother and could not think of another alternative to treat Elijah. The sentence, “Elijah is my younger brother,” replayed in his mind and made him feel more at ease in the snowman’s presence- though it was a forced “at ease”.

“Good.” Elijah concluded, without an elaboration. He sipped his coffee for the first time and something human appeared on the mien. The face cringed a little more than slightly.

“Too much sugar. I can’t drink this.” And he set the coffee aside.

Isaiah was baffled. He had only put in one teaspoon of sugar. He had wanted to add in more, remembering that Elijah loved sugary stuff. Now, he was glad he did not.

No. Lijah loved sugary stuff. Elijah…I will have to get to know Elijah. The Elijah who had peeled away all layers of his yesterday- created a new persona and a new world for himself.

This Elijah.

“Li…Elijah…what made you join us? It’s not very pretty…the things we see…” Isaiah’s voice lowered a tone in an endeavor to attempt at private talk. If all he could talk to his brother about was office work, then he might as well not even regard Elijah as family.

Elijah gave Isaiah the thin smile that was really not a smile at all. His unwavering gaze bore down deep into Isaiah’s eyes.

“Neither is my life Isaiah. Neither is my life.”

The boy was playing in the playground with other children. He was laughing merrily, the bruises and welts all over his body had not stopped hurting but he was concentrating on his fun to forget about them. He didn’t want to go back home, not when home held no warmth- only pain. His friends thought that he was a happy person, but he knew too well that he was in high spirits when he was with them because he was trying his best to be. He knew when he reached home, happiness would ebb away. Happiness would not come.

He was only seven years old. But he knew so much.

Another tall boy, taller than him by a lot- too tall for his age of nine- came into view and at that very exact moment, Lijah dropped whatever he was doing and ran to his big brother. He grabbed Isaiah’s hands effusively, almost jumping in joy- ecstatic that the dearest person in his life was coming to join in their gaiety.

No…Saiah looks sad…why would Saiah look so sad?? Did Pappy beat him? Pappy came home early?

I should go home…when I’m home…Pappy beats me…not Saiah. It’s ok…as long as Saiah don’t get hurt. I’m used to it. Pappy beats me, beats Mommy and beats Saiah. But I can protect Saiah.

“Saiah! Are we going back now?” The boy could not say the word home. He may not have any philosophical ideas about what a home should be but he felt that his house definitely did not house any homes. Cartoons always show mothers and fathers kissing and hugging their children. But then again, Lijah asked himself if he really knew what he was thinking about.

“Lijah…I…” The wind blew the longish black hair- blew away some tears. Lijah saw the black car in the distance. Once again, he was too young to know the make and model but he knew that was his mother’s car.

His mother doesn’t love him very much. And sometimes, she was just too zoned out to care.

“Saiah?”

“I’m going with Mother somewhere for a while…but…”

“Goody!!! Where? We are going on a vacation? Is Pappy coming along? I don’t wanna…”

“Lijah…you can’t come…I was not even supposed to come tell you…”

“Ok…but you’ll be back soon right?” he asked hopefully. Sometimes his Mommy would leave the two boys in the house alone with pappy for a few days but she would always come back. Now, it was the first time she was taking someone along. Saiah.

Maybe one day she’ll take me along too.

The green eyes flashed with something that Lijah could not fathom. It did not matter again, because he knew Saiah would never wish him harm. Saiah then stared at the ground.

“Yah…I’ll be back soon.” Saiah’s voice was so sad and his feet shuffled but Lijah believed him immediately.

And the next time he saw Saiah was at the lawyer’s office a year later where the custody was decided coolly and he was carried away by his pappy -screaming all the way.

He didn’t even have the chance to tell Saiah he missed him very much.

Elijah lain down on his bed. He had rented a small apartment which he moved in only a week ago. It was new; it was yet another place to retire for the night. Shifting around from place to place was a practice that he was used to. He had never developed any sentimental feelings for any places that he had housed himself in before and he was not about to start then.

He did not switch on the lights. He did not need the lights.

Memories resurfaced but he suppressed them, knowing they were a part of his life- conscious of the fact that he could not destroy them unless he destroyed his mind. So he accepted them but when they wanted to come out and play, he stopped them and buried them deeper into the recesses of his mind. Buried them more than six feet underground together with the nailed coffin he placed the old Lijah in.

A mind honed to only think. Not hope. Not remember. Only think.

He had not remembered for a very long time. The last time he remembered was five years ago when Isaiah turned out unannounced at his high school graduation. He had been shocked that Isaiah even knew which high school he attended. It was so rundown, so dilapidated and severely lacking funds. But he had been the school’s pride and joy. They could boast about his success which he felt they had played no part in. He had not spent all those lonely nights in the library, burning mid-night oil at their encouragement- at their requests.

Everything. Everything I have now is really mine. Fruits of my own labor.

Everything.

“Hello Lijah…looks like…wow! Valedictorian…my little brother…I’m proud of you. Any plans? Going anywhere?” Isaiah sounded too casual for Elijah’s liking. He had been out of Elijah’s life for years. Now, he was back and he was being too intrusive for the pale and far too skinny teenager’s liking.

“Elijah. The name’s Elijah- not Lijah.” He replied blankly. The emotionless answer seemed to have been accompanied by some force because Isaiah staggered backwards a little.

Sitting up, he reached for the cup of tea by his bed. He preferred tea to coffee. Tea was calming and would still taste all right without sugar. Having denied of many simple pleasures in life when he was young, he learned that it was better to be completely without them than to constantly hanker after them. Sugar was one of the pleasures that his father had denied him.

After Isaiah left, his father had kept him prisoner. He was schooled at home, he was kept at home. He never got a chance to step out. That was the last day he visited the playground.

His father dealt in drugs and was very rich but no one really knew where the wealth came from until after he died. But after the funeral, his dirty wealth, which could not be disclosed, was not given to Elijah. And the wealth that was legit was all taken away by his stepmother who really did not care about him and dumped him into the hands of welfare. His whole childhood was perverse, nothing a child should have underwent. In his memories, he had not even flashbacked to the tip of the iceberg.

Lijah would look back and think, “If I have known it was the last day in the playground, I will have played even harder, laughed even louder.”

Elijah knew better. It would only be worst. The memories would only serve to hurt more.

But I’m not hurting now. It’s over. He cannot hurt me anymore. No one can hurt me anymore.

I am Elijah. Not the moronic Lijah.

A strange being visited his guts and twisted it. He had forgotten the visitor, though he remembered that he used to receive it very often in even greater intensity. The twisting always came before the tears.

Only this time, he would not let the tears come. He was his own person.

Lijah was so stupid.

Lijah never needed Saiah.

*Winston Smith and Big Brother plus assorted ideas on BIG BROTHER are all taken from George Orwell’s, 1984. N A L: 1976

Chapter 4

Isaiah was shaving as his television blared with the early morning News Broadcast. It was his habit to always catch a glimpse of the happenings around the world in the morning before work.

His homely, one-bedroom studio apartment was extremely small. The furniture was a mix-n-match affair. The apartment was done in an overall peach theme with sprinkles of orange and some bold red tastefully colored on. Some blue and green finished the overall three-dimensional canvas. Lynn had helped out and she had an eye for fragile, yet, precious crystals that actually seemed to blend in with the simplicity of the furnishings he had decided upon.

“And now for the latest news. Another girl has been found murdered in the town of Eaeshore. Police are investigating the matter.

Someone has gotten a change of heart. MacroTough announced that it will no longer flaunt their monopoly power and exploit their customers. It is giving away free computers to the various charities as a sign of their commitment to keep their prices low and software bug free in future.

Rioters, dissatisfied with the vastly popular MacDucky which they claimed to be the manifestation of the exploitative nature of Capitalism, had been successfully rounded up by the NYPD. MacDucky spokesman had exclaimed pleasure at the freedom to preach conformism again….”

And so the endless stream of news kept pouring into the small apartment. Isaiah frowned at the news about the murder. Homicides were too rampant and common for comfort.

One homicide is one too many.

He entered the living room and switched the television off when the newscaster had nothing else of interest for him. The sun’s ray streamed into his apricot little nest in orange streaks that splashed across the walls, gracing Isaiah’s humble abode with an infinitesimal of its majesty- its fiery beauty.

It’s another day. It’s a beautiful day…the air…it’s so fresh…I love high floors. New York’s very beautiful from up here.

Isaiah lived on the 35th storey of a high-rise apartment building. He was inspired and had brought out his violin to the balcony- a classical piece was nagging at him and refused to let his mind rest unless he set it free. And he wanted to set it free.

He had splurged on the 1925 "Johann Glass" Leipzig violin with his first paycheck. His first salary pay- out was not enough of course for something that. Something that was though not the best- was still very exquisite. But he had money saved from part-time work in college. It was enough. He had enough.

Air for the G String, a violin solo arrangement of Bach’s immortalized Air on the G String, was revealed perfectly with each coax of the violin- the languid, bittersweet piece described his mood that morning perfectly. The beauty of daylight always stirred in Isaiah a desire to let his violin sing to the world with its delicate voice. Delicate because had Isaiah been an incompetent violinist, the violin would be screeching and whining most ear-piercingly. But Isaiah was a skillful player and thus the violin sang sonorously, smoothly, and most importantly, soulfully with its velvet vocals.

And the heaviness in his heart for all those years drew him to melancholic pieces that were at the same time- gorgeous and always exuding largo, whether they meant to or not.

Isaiah wished he was one with the lazy clouds, just drifting pass insouciantly in a good way. He felt like he cared too much- sometimes he wanted a break from the world.

“Saiah! Listen to this! I mastered it!”

“I know you can…hey…that’s good…”

He pretended for a while it was Little Lijah seducing the violin, not him. That he was only an audience, witnessing the birth of a prodigy.

Only it was not to be. His heart grew heavy with the reminder of his brother. Somehow, he suspected that Elijah no longer cared about music which had held the two brothers in thrall when they were young. He closed his eyes and tried to get into Elijah’s mind but he could not. Elijah was a foreigner.

But I know Lijah…

Breaking his solo concert, Isaiah glanced up at the clock, wondering if he should actually return to the office on a Saturday. Maybe he could call in sick and just sleep the whole day away.

Maybe I can call in sick and not have to meet Elijah.

However, he could not. He was responsible. His work was dear to him, even though it terrified him at times. Besides, he really wanted to see his brother again, despite the dread he was feeling.

Isaiah fetched Lynn from her own apartment block, just two streets away from his. The moment Lynn stepped inside his car, she began grumbling about how sickening it was to be stuck once again in the office. While she was outstation, she was not doing much except making trying to make progress in new methods of hacking and other exciting little things to do with bytes and waves. Her job held her hostage to the computer and the notebook, always having to hack into one system to the next; to device ways- from learning about others’ mistakes- on how to make Network’s own network more secured.

Most secured.

And from what Isaiah heard from her lips, she did not like it one bit, preferring his which was more on-the-scene orientated.

He could not really register her words though everything she said sounded pretty to his ears. He loved her voice, loved her looks and loved her soul. In short, he loved her. She brought him much happiness even though she may not know it. But just seeing her made him felt like he was most blessed creature in the world.

“…and so, with the amount of new organizations popping up…I was going like…where am I going to find the time to pay their IP addresses a visit? I mean, give me a break…I just don’t see why I should go back on a Sammmffff....”

He reached over with one hand and playfully muffled her. Stealing a quick glance while they were halted by a red light, he saw that she was slightly peeved.

“You talk too much sometimes…but I love it still…” He released his hand and she slinked back onto the seat, her lips curled up on one side in annoyance.

“I love you.”

And she was startled by the sudden declaration of love. He saw her eyes widened in shock and very slowly, her cheeks flushed crimson.

The lights turned green and he drove off again, knowing she would react that way and not liking how she had not failed his deductions. He had wanted to say those prized three words for a very long time. It was only after realizing the despondency, which came after the meeting with Elijah, had not taken away his urge to profess his love for her that he knew he really needed to make it clear to her. Make it so blatant that he was extremely serious about her so she could never have the excuse of misunderstanding.

Nothing can take away my enthusiasm at our relationship, Lynn…nothing

“Oh…Isaiah…I…well…hmm…that’s a big one…” Lynn stumbled over her incoherent and incomplete sentence and broke out in a bout of nervous giggles. For once, Wen Li- Lin, Lynn was lost for words. She always had something to blast about everything and now, she was speechless, stuttering and not that confident.

Oops…bad timing…damn! Why did I pick a red light to tell her?

He took her soft, slender hand, feeling the tenderness that felt so fragile in his strong one. Squeezing it hard while maintaining control over the steering wheel with his other hand, he sucked in a deep breath.

“Li-Lin. Lynn…whatever you want to call yourself. I love you. Really love you. And…” He trained his eyes on the road, hearing her heavy breathing, figuring out that she was unprepared for the sudden assault on the status quo of their relationship. A status quo that Isaiah wanted to challenge for a very long time had she not kept insisting she was not ready for a commitment but among all the men she was dating, she was most devoted to him.

I think I was supposed to feel flattered. Somehow, I felt sad for her and for the both of us.

“I’m hoping we can have the talk soon…the one you promised me?”

He could not see her as he was trying to navigate a tight bend. But he projected himself in her shoes and could almost sense her trepidation at the word, “Commitment.”

An irony. I’m a guy. I’m the one who should be afraid as all stereotypes will agree with.

But Isaiah could not wait. He had been waiting for a year, 5 months and 3 days. All the time, he was the one hovered over his phone, waiting for her to call. Hoping that she would call when she said she would and even when she did not. All those time, he was the one wishing and praying she would not break their dates. Anyone would have told him to break off with her immediately- that she was bad news.

Isaiah saw beauty in her. Not only on her face, but inside her. He could not describe it- only that he was touched by it. The way she would tear when she thought no one was looking when she was reading the news- sincerely empathizing with the victims; the sufferings.

And the way she is. Isaiah would often prefer not to let his true opinions about some matters be shown; unless it had became an urgent need like this one. He was afraid he might not have the whole picture in his mind about a certain matter- that he would be prejudice and not do justice to an issue. And very simply, he was afraid he might be wrong.

But not Lynn. Lynn will be brazen; will be fearless. Lynn can say what I dare not articulate.

Lynn will be Lynn. There is no other person she can be. Lynn is candid and genuine.

Although now, Lynn was not saying the words he wished to hear.

“Hmm…Isaiah, this is too sudden. I need time. I promise…the talk…”

Isaiah let go of her hand. He had been vaguely hopeful yet he knew her well- too well. He had already somewhat foreseen the answer. She had not disappointed him- only crushed his foolish hope.

“Yah, I’m sorry too. I know we don’t want to talk about feelings and stuff. No strings attached- just harmless fun and dates. Right? I totally understand.” He began calmly, almost in a friendly tone but ended sounding like a spurned lover.

And she caught his frustration and would be guilty. Now, she would placate him in the motherly tone of hers, which was the one thing he did not like about her.

But I accept it. Love is accepting.

“Isaiah…don’t be like that. Ok. We’ll have that talk alright? Let’s make it next Saturday. Fine with you?”

“Isaiah, don’t cry. We’ll go back for Elijah soon alright? Next week! I promise…next week…Mommy promise darling…please…understand…”

Next week never came.

He smiled grimly in response and the couple were silent the rest of the way to the office.

Lynn was just recovering from the shock she had in the car. The audacity of Isaiah, to actually bring up a topic which he would know she was not ready for. She liked being with him. Lynn knew it was extremely difficult to find a sweet guy like Isaiah who actually knew what love was about. However, when she was with Isaiah, she could not help but feel something very important was missing. The something important which would push her towards commitment.

Let me see…chemistry? Hmm…I’m sure we have that. Good looks? More than enough. Intelligence…whoa…don’t get me started…

So what’s that little thing that’s so crucial?

Love?

She tapped her feet. The ultra-blond man in front of her was taking far too long with the vending machine. Well, she knew it often cranked up on people; yet, it seemed like this time, the poor vending machine was not at fault. Unable to stand the wait anymore, she walked up to the guy and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey Mister! Need change? We’re all thirsty here.”

He turned around and she blinked. He was extremely handsome, like a marble statuette. And pale. Not much taller than her at probably 6 feet, he did command a presence of sorts. Stark blue eyes gave her a once over before pulling out a dollar note.

“Yes. I do need change,” as an afterthought, he added, even less audibly but still as stately, “If you don’t mind.”

Ooh…ice man…scary…

In her turmoil, no thanks to Isaiah, she could not help but be sarcastic- well- as least in her thoughts. The man was superficially gorgeous, more so than Isaiah. Nonetheless, despite the finely carved features, something about him unnerved her. She had not met anyone who could speak as soft and as robotic as he had accomplished.

“I don’t have change. But I have enough coins for two cups of coffee...if that’s what you want.” She almost pushed past him, drop in the coins and the first cup of coffee materialized soon after. Retrieving it, she passed it to the man who had not moved an inch.

He actually took it without saying any thanks. She turned her attention back to machine and rolled her eyes.

“As if the world is not rude enough. You can try to be polite Mister.” She grumbled loudly for him to hear.

“Are you looking for a ‘thank you’?” He had the nerve to ask her.

Holding on to her own coffee, she turned and cocked her head sideways. “I thought that’s just basic manners.”

“I don’t want to insult you. I don’t think all you want is some gratitude out of helping people. The thankless jobs we take upon ourselves are usually the most satisfying.” Again the voice was flat, steady and in that irritating monotone. Lynn was not liking this agent one bit.

“Cut the philosophical crap. I was looking for manners. Not gratitude! Man! You are a freak! It’s just coffee! And saying ‘thanks’ wouldn’t hurt!” She rant at him and suddenly felt like shoving him. But she stormed away instead and brushed past him rudely.

When he grabbed her hand, she was shocked and almost spilled her coffee. She had not heard him as he was very stealthy and quick.

“What’s your name and department?”

Great, another guy asking me out for a date.

“I’m Lynn, from Technical Helpdesk. I am…” she wanted to tell him she was not available for someone like him but the moment he got the direct answer to his question, he let go of her hand and walked away.

Muttering something extremely rude under her breath, she made her way to her department on the fourth floor but not without first making a trip to the ladies to wash her face and wash away the blues.

When she returned to her cluttered desk, there was the exact amount of coins for the cup of coffee on the table and a curt ‘Thank You’ jotted down on a memo in straight; deliberate handwriting. Raising an eyebrow at her colleague sitting next to her, he shrugged and mumbled something about a blond-hair guy simply sauntering his way in and placing the coins on her desk.

Idiot.

And she smiled very quietly to herself.

Isaiah heard the armchair next to him groaned and his head looked up from their original position- nested in his folded arms on his desk. The morning had been tiring slow and uneventful. Though he was grateful for moments like these, he secretly wished that the Network would just impose a new policy that allowed agents to steer clear their offices when there were no cases and still receive their hefty salaries.

Yes, I’ll like that very much. Get paid for doing nothing. I wish I’m back on Perhentian again...the sun…the beach…Heaven manifested on Earth.

His head turned and he saw that Elijah had already settled down and was perusing through profile-files of the terrorists and cult organizations that the Network had run-ins with. The never-ending chase against evil ensured that Elijah would be kept very occupied for a while.

“Morning Bro…” Isaiah tried to sound laid-back even though seeing his brother brought the melancholy to inside of him. Elijah did not respond.

“Elijah?”

“Hmm…” Elijah mumbled, now using his pencil to mark down interesting points about whichever group he was studying. Isaiah sighed, not knowing what else to say. Elijah was not being encouraging either. Isaiah’s heart immediately happily added more weight to itself- as if it was trying to see how burdened it could be before it ripped.

If it’s not already torn.

“It gets a little tedious…but take your time with the files…you can bring them home if you want, just be careful…” He spoke softly, concerned about Elijah’s increasing fixation on the files, seemingly too drawn into the gristly details on the reports- moving from one page to the next in seemingly robotic mania.

Elijah kept silent. Isaiah shifted his attention away and the room never felt more claustrophobic- more bare.

His phone rang and Isaiah was deeply gratified for some distraction. Looking at the caller-ID, he saw that it was an internal transfer and the caller was Grey Man. He picked it up before the third ring.

“Yes Grey…”

“You and Elijah. In my office, now.”

Elijah glanced around the private office that he had entered for the very first time. It was done up in a functional design- very organized and not cluttered at all. The furniture and decorations were minimal, probably because the officer hardly stayed in his office to want to make it a second-home. As usual, the overall theme was white. It looked like the outside, only that the work area was surrounded by walls. A small bonsai plant on one top of one of the shelves broke the striking and yet unexciting whiteness of the room.

He was seated on the other side of the work desk, next to Isaiah. His brother’s presence had not bothered him at all. Isaiah was just another partner to work with. The only thing that bothered him was that he had slipped last night and allowed himself to remember. A nagging thought had pounded at the back of his mind as Lijah kept screaming into his ears.

But he was gratified that he made Lijah stop before the sun made its usual entrance into the world again. And he never figured out what the nagging thought was because when Lijah stopped, the thought flew away as well.

“I hope the both of you are ready. Isaiah, is the holiday mood over?” Grey Man asked, his nose still in the file he was studying; walking to and fro the back of his desk.

Elijah watched Isaiah who had closed his eyes, an insuppressible whimsical smile on his lips.

It was a good holiday.

And Isaiah’s eyes shot opened after a while; but the smile was still there.

“Yah…”

“Elijah?”

Elijah vacant eyes shifted back to Grey Man. He did not reply; there was no need to. Grey Man was just asking useless questions. If Elijah had said no, Grey would still have to assign him the case.

“Hmph. Alright Marble.” Grey Man groused. He threw the pathetically thin file onto the table.

“Homicide. It’s the second one following the same pattern. We either have a copycat or a serial killing taking place. And we are called because it could be a cult.”

“A girl?” Isaiah immediately suggested. Elijah knew then that Isaiah had been watched the news in the morning- probably a habit. A same one he had.

“Yes. So the news had already reported. Anyway, both killings had taken place in Eaeshore, slightly off Bayport. All the details are in this file…Isaiah, you take care of it. Both of you are brothers. From what I have seen, brothers’ teams seemed to crack cases pretty easily.”

Isaiah’s eyes had rounded at the mention of Bayport while Elijah simply took the file and perused it. Elijah was intrigued by Grey Man’s assumption that brothers would work well together. He seemed to have neglected the fact that many brothers did not even get along well, maybe did not even love each other.

Many brothers are only related by blood and it was not as thick as bond as some liked to think. Blood was nothing but cells, plasma and water. The romantic thought about blood brothers was falsehood to Elijah.

Blood brothers. Why not blood sisters? Or have society dictated that only brothers can be linked with such stereotyped loyalty and deep friendship?

But he said nothing, just gazed at Grey Man with a slight sneer that he could not conceal for once. He did not want to contain it either. It was apt for Grey Man to receive the scorn for the naive generalization that he had so gullibly made.

The irk on Grey Man’s face was apparent and Elijah knew it was time for him to exit.

Not that he minded of course.

Chapter 5

Mystery- n. obscure or secret thing; anything strange or inexplicable; religious rite; in Middle Ages, biblical play. -Collins Gem English Dictionary, 1985.

Isaiah did the driving while Elijah scanned through the file, probably absorbing each typed word and figure in rapid speed. Isaiah had thrown numerous looks from the corner of his eyes at Elijah and saw that never once did Elijah looked up from the files.

I wonder if he’s a chronic reader…

He had suggested that they use his car- a brand new Lexus that was soon becoming his new love affair- since Elijah did not own a car. Just like everything else, his car reflects the yearning for some normalcy- for some drastic break away from the life filled with secrets and danger. Three strings of Oriental wind chimes hung from his rear-view mirror, harmonizing in a crystalline symphony each time the car swerved too roughly or stopped too abruptly. A few pastel-colored cushions had fallen onto the floor behind. The culprit of the mess at the back was a gigantic Donald Duck who lorded over the backseat, a present from his beloved Lynn who seemed to be extremely evasive when Love popped into their conversation. His mien turned sour as he remembered the morning’s drive to work.

Only wanted that talk. That Talk…it’s all I asked…all I can think about.

Besides how to deal with this block of ice next to me.

“So, we’re back…passed Bayport…” Isaiah sped down the highway; the exit sign that said Bayport brought an aching to his heart. That was their hometown, where Elijah was still Lijah and he was still Saiah. He would be Saiah in an instant, had Lijah called out to him. But Elijah was hiding Lijah from the world.

Most likely he killed Lijah. I’m beginning to hate him for doing that…an irrational hate…since he’s Lijah.

But not Lijah. No…he’s nothing like Lijah.

Am I thinking he’s schizophrenic?

The still figure was still engrossed in the file that had only three pages of nothing inside and a map of Eaeshore. Isaiah shook his head and pressed the button that would roll the window on his side of the vehicle down. Only with one hand, he managed to take his cigarette out and lighted it. He took a deep puff and the car was soon filled with the pungent; fragrant smell of tobacco leaves and nicotine.

I’m smoking to my own grave.

“Put it out.” Elijah finally looked up from the file and commanded Isaiah quietly. Isaiah cocked his head towards Elijah’s direction, temporary disrupted and almost swung the car onto the curb, risking more than just scratches and burst tires.

“What?”

“Put it out. Second-hand smoke is bad for human beings. If you want to slowly kill yourself, do it considerately.” Elijah seemed weary and at the same time, dripping with sarcasm as he explained. Well, it sounded good to Isaiah. There were emotions- albeit negative ones.

At least Elijah is talking.

Isaiah did not really want to stop but he obliged. First, he had Lynn giving him third degrees about the evils of the cigarette until he shut his ears and went “Lalalala…” each time she did it. She caught the hint and stopped, but he knew how she felt. He knew she was still pissed each time he took a drag.

Now, I have this ice-block that could get caustic when it wants to. Maybe I should really quit. How much do those nicotine patches cost again?

An oxymoron. I want to quit but I’m still relying on the addictive substance.

Biting down a rude word, Isaiah put out his cigarette in the ashtray of the car and leaned back onto the cool leather seat. The highway drive was becoming much too relaxing. Even with an extremely trying passenger, Isaiah was appreciating the scenery they would have to pass before reaching Eaeshore.

The drive intoxicated Isaiah and he found himself half day-dreaming, riding on a different sort of high- the breeze beating on his face from the open window; the steady speed that made him felt like he was flying.

Elijah did not seem to be enjoying the ride though- he was still scrutinizing the file.

Probably reading them through the one hundredth time to check for grammar and spelling errors.

Realizing that he was approaching the exit too quickly, he cut across three lanes immediately, thankful that the traffic was almost non-existent on that particular stretch. Driving down the exit, the brothers had arrived in the coastal town of Eaeshore after a long, tense ride.

The town of Eaeshore was not as bustling as its neighbor Bayport. In fact, it was pretty quaint in its own way. Bayport had been slow to change and development but once it did, there seemed to be no stopping the once sleeping town.

However, Eaeshore stood firm in retaining its identity. That was not to say Bayport did not- just that Eaeshore was more stoic to the changes around it than its sister town. Looking at the dominant Victorian architecture and quiet roads- a rare sight for him- he wondered if the population had even heard of the latest technology like Bluetooth, Wap and Palm.

The streets were not empty on the Saturday evening. The only thing that spelled modernity to Isaiah were the teenagers that littered the sidewalks. He smiled warmly to himself when he saw a middle-aged couple pushing a baby stroller with an inquisitive bundle inside. Old shop houses greeted him, bringing the historian out in him as he basked in the simplicity of the place.

“Hmm…population 40 000. Pretty small…two murders would surely rock it.” Isaiah commented to which Elijah only raised his head ever so slightly. Isaiah was getting very used to such one-way exchange. Maybe it was a blessing. He could do a soliloquy- he always wanted to do a soliloquy.

“How do we get to the morgue? I think Grey gave us a map…” Isaiah inquired and Elijah sighed a little and finally put away the files onto the backseat, to accompany good’ ol Donald. Isaiah now realized what Elijah was doing. He was injecting every single detail into his memory cells.

“Turn left at the junction and you’ll hit the main street. Exit left following two more junctions and we’ll be on River Street. Drive on for two more miles and you’ll see the hospital. The morgue is just next to the hospital.” Elijah directed Isaiah- his curt and precise directions were extremely useful and clear. Isaiah had no trouble following them. Half and hour later, they were already in the morgue.

The morgue stunk of formaldehyde but Elijah was used to it. The nature of his previous stint with FBI made visits to morgues rather frequent. It had not caused him much grief the very first time he visited the place of soulless bodies. He found it fascinating in fact- found the human body- without the substance that kept it animated- a very absorbing subject.

Alive. What does it mean to be alive? Are we dictated by our genes or our soul? Is there really a soul?

Staring at the subject for the day lying on a metal slab on a table in the middle of the chilly room which was a popular setting for ghost stories, Elijah’s penetrating gaze was scourging the lifeless form, asking it questions that would not be answered- but still he asked it mentally anyway.

Where are you now? Heaven or hell?

Maybe you have already stopped existing. That there is no soul, just chemicals in our bodies, making us feel funny things, do stupid things.

Have the thoughts that would embarrass our brief intelligence.

Strangely, he felt exceptionally at ease with dead bodies, more so than with live ones. He concluded that it was his nature. Though he had been reticent and alienated from people during stages of his life, he knew most people thought him to be dead, nothing more than just a corpse with a hidden puppeteer.

Dead bodies could not reach out to harm him. He could just look at them and they would not judge, would not sympathize- would not empathize. They were the quintessence of ennui- of Apathy.

In addition, they would not try to find reasons for a person’s behavior, nor act like they knew everything. They would just lay down where they were, eyes closed, tired of the world.

If the coroner and Isaiah were not around, Elijah would not be surprised if he would actually start talking to the girl. In a way, he probably did, for he put on the gloves, swiped out his mini-tape recorder and started examining the body without waiting for any cues from Isaiah. He needed none. He had decided he was ready to start investigating and would need no permission.

Isaiah was still speaking with the Coroner, probably still unprepared for direct contact with the deceased. Elijah probed around and noted that the girl was average in looks by common standards and did not seem to be sexually assaulted. She had yellow hair that should have been a healthy blond when she was alive. It was already disintegrating and dulled.

“Deceased, female. According to the files, a girl by the name of Sandy Aurek Miller. No marks on her face. A small incision is found on the right side of her lower neck. Incisions are also found on the carotid and jugular veins…probable cause of death should be excessive loss of blood, unless challenged otherwise.” He mumbled into his recorder, observing, memorizing.

“Rope burn marks on her wrists and ankles. Tied up. Could have been drugged owing to the lack of signs of struggles…” He flicked the girl’s left wrist, exposing the underside and a deep gash across the purple vein that no longer flowed with abundant life-giving blood.

“Left wrist slit with a serrated blade. Jagged edges instead of a smooth slash.”

He did the same with the right wrist.

“Same with the right wrist.”

You have seen death in the face. How does it look like? Does it look…

What am I trying to do? Am I becoming idiotic as well?

Isaiah walked over to him then and cocked his head towards the corpse. “Anything of interest?”

“She was bled. The four main veins all slit to let the blood flow. No struggles. Taken by surprised or drugged. Maybe someone she knew and trusted.” Elijah spoke monotonously as he always had. But he was thinking, or trying to think. Yet, his thoughts were all about nothing but Death.

Isaiah took in all he said and nodded before shutting his eyes and his eyes furrowed in deep concentration and suddenly, an uncanny sadness veiled his mien.

Elijah studied his brother, pondering over what Isaiah could be doing. Recalling, he knew Isaiah, when he was child, had an almost bottomless well of empathy. However, he did not ask. It was not his business, no matter how strangely curious he was.

“Not enough. We need to go on with something more.” Isaiah revealed the emerald gems after that short contemplation in which he looked like he was on another plane of existence. He looked at the body with some remorse and heaviness. Elijah stared at the man who was related to him by blood, thinking that Isaiah was much too overly involved with someone who was already gone.

And I’ve talked to her. I too am just as ‘involved’.

Isaiah twisted his head towards Elijah and smiled grimly. Elijah concluded that Isaiah was too affected by deaths and should not be in this line. Something must have spurred him. But it would not be the lure of money. Logical deduction told Elijah it was definitely not for the same reason that he had.

Which was just to work in a place which could train his mind and not be too routine; ordinary. Besides the pay would keep him alive of course. The salary to buy him sustenance and provide a roof over his head.

“Where is the body found?” Isaiah enquired in a grave tone.

“Near the dumpster behind her hostel block. The garbage collector found her.”

“Let’s go then.” Isaiah indicated to the exit of the morgue with a swipe of his head. Elijah let Isaiah moved on first. After giving the dead girl one final glance, he turned around and treaded on the path his brother took.

The back dumpster of a graying hostel block in Eaeshore College was cordoned off and guarded by a portly officer with a too protruding gut. It was where they found the body, but not where the girl was murdered. Remembering what Elijah had told him, Isaiah noticed at once that the site was too clean.

And yet…

A faint sense of something disturbing hit him. Like someone was trying to scream but could not. Isaiah closed his eyes so he could ‘see’ inwardly. That was his gift. He did wonder at times- when the feelings got too intense, when the silhouette visions he had only frustrated him and most disconcerting such that he could not even breathe- if God was playing a joke on him.

However, in times like these, knowing his gift could help, or at least seek some justice, he strove to make sure he utilized it well.

The ‘gift’ fully materialize when he was fifteen, having ran home from school one day because he thought he saw his mother fall from some height in his waking dream which was not really a dream because he could control himself- he could move in the visions. A sudden fear seized him and he just had to skip classes immediately to be by his mother’s side. Déjà vu rushed through him when he saw his mother on the floor, writhing in pain because she fell from the ladder and sprained her ankle badly.

A charismatic Christian friend of his whom he confided in told him it was the gift of foresight. Isaiah had strove to be as good a Christian as he could, influenced deeply by his ‘re-born’ mother and also because he really felt His presence once when he was fourteen. He could not explain- he could only believe. Studying the Bible only strengthened that belief. He thought he had felt Truth.

It was exactly a year later since the touch when the vision about his mother’s fall came to him. In a way, he did not feel proud or embarrassed by it. He simply told his mom that he saw her falling and somehow, she did not doubt him.

She told him he did not cry when he was born. That he simply looked around and seemed at ease. Right then, she knew he was special. She told him whatever gift he was given, that he must use it for good and not bad. That he must always try his best to be the person he was created to be. A beautiful person, like everybody else and yet unique, like everybody else.

And bring joy and love to others. But I cannot bring joy to her. She kept hoping I’ll have visions of Lijah. But I never did. We could have gone see him, but we were afraid.

Guess I’m not a saint. Never was. I only try my best. Sometimes, I slip and don’t.

The visions did not come again until he started working for the NYPD, guided to the job only by his sixth sense. Three cases were solved because he felt in sync with the killer’s mind. Four cases were solved because his visions provided clues. Numerous cases were cracked very much because of his senses.

He had always been a melancholic person, his childhood or lack of it affected him even until this day. The horrors he had seen during his stint with the NYPD and his new, on-going job frightened him and left him rather disenchanted sometimes about the goodness that was supposed to be in everyone’s heart.

But he walked on because he felt his calling. He knew his purpose. He had hope and he definitely still had love, his own and what was given to him. He knew he was not perfect; he had his weaknesses and his sins. As he grew up, he sometimes questioned God’s purpose but not His existence. Yet, His comforting touch would always come to him and he would still be unable to explain, only believe. A comforting touch that made the cross he was carrying not a burden, but a joy. A comforting touch that gave him hope, love and forgiveness.

And there’s this feeling there’s this one big case to solve. This one big case in my life that I cannot ignore.

The visions and the senses would not always come of course. Only in some cases- out of many- did any visions come. Senses were more common, however he still found it a little difficult at times to decipher between his own paranoia and those there were true. So, sometimes he could be wrong.

Quite a number of times, he was just dead right.

Someone touched him on the shoulders and it was only then he realized how close Elijah was standing behind him. Doing an about turn, he saw Elijah’s stately mien. Elijah was so near him that when he spoke, his breath which hit Isaiah’s face smelt of fresh mint.

Now! That’s the miracle! His breath should stink from the lack of ventilation owing to his sealed tight lips.

“You’re blocking the way.”

True enough, Isaiah was hindering Elijah from passing through the only opening to the crime scene since the area was fully cordoned. Uncannily chastised, Isaiah moved away to one side and with that same surprising speed, grace and stealth, Elijah went for the chalk outline of the body’s placement.

Isaiah closed his eyes again. The feeling had passed. Now, he only felt emptiness.

And the faint sense of evil.