Episode 1: Complete
Carolyn & Shellie
Vin rolled over restlessly in bed. He'd heard a voice and his mind had risen out of dreams almost to the point of waking. Automatically, his hearing compensated for distance and volume. Chris' voice funneled to him through the large warehouse, his words tightly bitten off as if he were angry. Another voice Vin recognized as Orrin Travis overlapped Chris' answer; the older man's words sounded farther away and muffled. A name caught, hooking his attention away from the conversation.
*Evans*.
Without the pull of concentrating on the phone call, Vin slipped back into sleep. Darkness invaded his dreams, wrapped thick arms around his sanity and pulled him into a nightmare so deep and dank he could barely breathe.
Accustomed to constant noises and rhythms thrumming against his ears, Vin found himself unbalanced with silence, reaching for a wall and touching it to ground himself. White walls, white ceiling, glaring white lights, and no details to break up the monotony. Nothing he could hear but pressure he could *feel* clamped tight as a vice around his skull.
The last thing he remembered was reaching for the light switch in his room at the Agency. A brilliant flash had caught him by surprise and he'd cried out, dropping the coat and book in his arms to shield his eyes. Normally able to adjust any of his augmented senses when something out of the ordinary happened, he found himself helplessly blind, stumbling hard against his door. A firm grip around his arm and something soft pressed to his face, forcing his head back, only confused him more. He inhaled, then choked and coughed when fire seemed to sear through his lungs.
Arms encircled him and dragged him to the floor. His cheekbone hit hard, bouncing against the thin carpet, but he barely felt the impact as the drug worked through his system. The awareness that his senses were being targeted imbrued him with fear; panic blindsided him and he began struggling against his assailant, realizing he'd waited too late to fight. A name screeched out of his throat before he even realized who he was calling.
"Chris!"
Someone crushed the cloth to his face again, yanking his head back cruelly.
Tears sprang to his eyes with the strain on his arching neck. His blind eyes widened in dreadful alarm when his lungs locked and refused to expand.
Deprived of oxygen, his limbs grew rubbery and finally fell limp against the floor when he passed out. He didn't feel the burn of carpet against skin when someone rolled him savagely to his back, uncaring of how his face dragged across the floor. Oblivion protected him from feeling the pull in his joints when one of his attackers yanked him from the floor and tossed him over their shoulder.
He awoke in the white room, gradually regaining his sight, sense of touch, and ease in breathing. Sore places on his body vied for attention, but a greater need focused his thoughts elsewhere. The conversation he'd shared with Chris that afternoon kept playing over and over in his mind. Evans and his cruel, inhuman experiments had driven them to the inevitable conclusion: they needed to leave the Agency. Who else but Evans would have the boldness to attack him and throw him here, in this room where none of his senses could pierce. He and Chris had obviously been overheard, and the worry that something worse had been done to his friend grated at his mind, filling him with images too frightening to study.
But having his senses stifled distracted him from his thoughts. What was it
Evans didn't want him to hear? Instead of being able to concentrate on that question, Vin found himself straining harder and harder to listen. Knowing that if the dampening fields were to be turned off suddenly, he'd probably be deafened by the usual sounds around him didn't deter his efforts. He'd known Chris for only a few months, but it had been long enough to recognize the man for what he was: loyal to his friends, and willing to give his life to save another. It was Chris' unassuming role of hero that drew Vin to him in the first place. That, and the fact that he never backed down to Evans, no matter how intimidating the man could be.
By the time the lock turned and his door opened, Vin was nearly frantic with needing to escape. He didn't expect to see Chris' face, but his relief was immediate. When Chris told him what had been done to Buck, the anger and the need to leave the Agency returned. Vin automatically adjusted his hearing as sound returned when they left the room and hurried to their friends.
"Nathan's with him now, but Buck needs more than an empathic healer this time."
"What do you mean?" Pausing just long enough to brace his arm against Chris and make sure no one occupied the halls ahead of them, Vin indicated it was clear and lowered his arm.
"He thought we were dead, Vin."
Vin snapped his head to Chris. "Why?"
"Evans told him he had us, said we were in the next room." Chris shifted, pointing down another hall. Vin followed him as he turned. "He used some kind of transmitter to block Buck, so he could focus enough to feel their pain, but couldn't get a lock on whoever he sensed. Buck just took Evans at his word and believed it was us."
"Son of a bitch."
"Yeah." Chris stopped and pressed his hand against Vin's chest to let him know they'd reached the room. Instead of opening the door, he turned to him, his mouth set grimly. "Evans made Buck stay in contact with them until they died. Said he wanted to know if Buck could sense their presence after death."
"If he could -- why?"
"Because he's insane, Vin. We're getting out of here. Tonight, if possible.
Travis is gonna help. He'll be here later."
Vin nodded. "I need to scout around then, make sure no one's suspicious of what we're doing." He shifted, pulling away, when Chris grabbed his arm.
"Not yet. I want you to come with me first and see Buck." Chris paused a beat. "He needs to see you're alive."
Acting as if he didn't hear the waver in Chris' voice, Vin simply nodded and waited for him to open the door. One step into the room froze him where he stood. Buck lay on his side on a narrow cot, knees drawn close, arms cradled to his body, his eyes open and staring at nothing. Or maybe he could see something that even Vin could never see. Nathan bent low over him, his dark face held perfectly still, his brow smooth, his body rocking gently back and forth in a soothing rhythm. Both hands lay spread against Buck's chest.
The image of his first meeting with Buck, the wide infectious grin, crinkled eyes, strong jaw and rounded cheeks, juxtaposed with the shrunken and ruined man he saw now. Whatever he'd suffered through, whatever Evans had done to him, was far too high a price to pay for this thing they called the Agency. It was time to leave, now, before one of them died. He prayed it wasn't too late for Buck.
Morning light lay warm against his face. Vin woke suddenly, grateful to leave the cloying fear and despair of his nightmare behind. Rising quickly, he dressed and hurried downstairs, eager to hear if Chris had news about how to find Evans and put an end to his torture.
<><><>
Immovable. He let his body grow heavier, trying to slip back into sleep, but the sharp blade of morning light slid insistently between the day-night shades. Josiah wanted none of it. He and morning had a daily battle and the big man had learned to hold it off a few minutes more every day. Even when his brain was fully awake, he kept his body motionless in hopes that he could steal a few more precious moments of sleep.
A sudden thwack on his door, and Chris' insensitive hollering for everyone to be downstairs in ten, pissed Josiah off. He'd spent twice that long in the john --longer if there were anything good to read in there. Defiantly, Josiah called on his ability to become massively strong -- settling deeper "like a rock," as Vin often joked. But anxious voices and slamming doors convinced him that this was not the day to sleep in. Josiah forced his body out of bed. Fumbling through his chest of drawers for a clean undershirt, he figured he'd join the team in ten. His belly rumbled loudly and he amended his thought: maybe he'd join them in fifteen.
<><><>
Chris cursed the Mr. Coffee machine, then cursed the coffee itself. The lukewarm sludge wasn't worth the trouble, but he took it like medicine, if only for the caffeine. Opening his mouth to call for the others, he flinched when a hand landed on his shoulder. Instinct turned him suddenly and his coffee sloshed onto Vin Tanner's shirt.
"Whoa man!" Vin shifted back but couldn't avoid the mess. Chris cursed at him for startling him and Vin snapped back. "Listen, Evans wins if he gets you off your game."
"How did you --?"
"How do you think?" Vin dragged his shirt over his head while he reached for the refrigerator door. "We need to end this with Evans." Holding his soiled shirt away from himself with one hand, he reached for the carton of orange juice with the other.
Chris took the shirt and tossed it in the sink. "Sorry."
Vin shrugged. "You gotta keep it together, Chris. How's Buck gonna get through this if you're this wired?"
"How's Buck gonna what?" The tall empath lumbered in.
Chris watched the genial smile fade.
Buck shrugged. "What?"
There was no way to avoid it, really. Buck reached for Chris' shoulder, but Chris stepped away from him. He couldn't let the empath sense the hot anger that consumed him. He questioned the wisdom of subjecting Buck to Evans again; the only man who'd ever been able to break his spirit.
While Chris simply stood there, Vin stepped in and led a bewildered Buck to the big dining table where the faxes from Travis were scattered.
Sitting down heavily, Buck picked up one of the papers and scanned the information. "Oh God, not this . . ."
Buck's mumbling prayer gathered Chris' anger into a churning ball in his stomach. For the second time this morning a hand touched his shoulder. This time he recognized the gentling presence of the healer. "I'm fine." His clenched jaw belied his statement.
Nathan snorted. "No, but you're gonna be."
Protest formed on his lips but a calming wave already warmed his body, settling his stomach and his over-stimulated heartbeat. He should make a note to ask Nathan how he dissipated his anger so quickly.
<><><>
By the time Josiah made it downstairs, the guys were gathering their gear.
Nathan sat alone at the dining table, drinking one of those strange health drinks; a concoction he made with some kind of grainy protein powder.
"There's some left in the blender," Nathan offered in a dull monotone.
"So fill me in." Josiah grabbed a tumbler out of the dishwasher and hesitantly poured the rest of the gritty liquid into it.
"One of Travis' guys found Evans."
Josiah frowned and grabbed a chair next to Nathan. Fingering through the papers on the table, he hooked one and dragged it toward him. It was a poorly copied photo of a man who obviously wasn't aware he was being photographed. Josiah squinted at it. "Wasn't that the guy . . .?"
"That's the one." The healer glanced up at the trio arming themselves by the door.
As if he felt the gaze, Chris looked at them. "You coming?"
"Yeah." Nathan gulped down the last of his drink.
Josiah discreetly set his tumbler down without drinking. "So are we just taking him down the usual way?"
"It won't be that easy." Vin slipped his shoulder holster on as he answered.
"Bastard's set up shop again. We could be facing a whole army of his freaks."
"Freaks?" Buck grew still with the challenging question. "Is that what you think?"
Josiah stood up slowly. Aside from Travis' rather clinical explanation, nobody had ever discussed the time spent in the Agency with him.
Vin shrugged. "No, that's not what I mean. I'm just saying --"
"The ones who're too weak to get away from him are freaks. Is that it?"
The moment froze in tableau, only it vibrated with an energy that could erupt into something nuclear. Josiah drew his strength inward, allowing his body to gain power, ready to step in. He almost expected Buck to punch Vin, and knew he would be needed to stop them. He never would have thought he could have misread a situation so completely.
<><><>
As a kid, Vin had learned to escape uncomfortable situations by listening for the most distant sound he could home in on. He wished he could use that childish game now to hide from Buck's look of disbelief. Stupid, Tanner. What had possessed him to use that word? He'd loathed it growing up, not for his abilities, because no one knew about them. They called him "freak" for a bunch of other reasons.
Vin shook his head. "You know that's not what I meant, Buck."
"I don't know what--"
"You know that's not what I meant." Vin repeated it like a mantra, and he gripped the empath's shoulder, letting Buck see the truth in his eyes, allowing him to understand. Chris' presence behind Buck completed a circle -- of protection or perhaps a circle of strength. To Vin, it was both or maybe something that transcended either.
Vin knew that Buck no longer questioned his choice of words, but he still needed to say it. "He treated all of us like freaks. He collected us like lab rats and tested us 'til . . . " He couldn't end his thought -- he didn't need to -- because Buck hooked a strong arm around his neck and leaned closer.
"It's all right. We got a little army of our own, now. Let's go get the son of a bitch."
Buck let him go and leaned back to show his grin, but a blue-fire determination burned in his eyes. Vin nodded. It was time.
<><><>
Chris watched his team board the van. Keenly aware of the danger surrounding any mission, he knew this mission was more than that; the quarry knew too much about his men. Chris made sure the team knew that this job would have to be a tactical and strategic win.
"You coming?" Buck stood at his elbow.
Chris nodded absently. "Buck, are you really ready for this?"
Buck shook his head. "Who can ever be ready for this? I'm as ready as you are."
Chris had to give him that. Who could be ready to take on an enemy who knew your IQ and inseam?
Buck would be okay.
Chris slapped him on the back. "Hey, thanks for your help last night."
"What help?"
"That migraine. There one minute, gone the next."
"Wasn't me. Maybe that Excedrin worked for you."
Frowning, Chris shifted into the driver's seat. "Didn't take anything." Apparently, Buck didn't hear him; he jumped into the back, slamming the door to the van and to that little mystery as well.
