Disclaimer: I don't own "The Pretender" or any of its characters. Thanx for not suing! ~Oriana
~~~~~~~~~
Spartan's Goddess
Part 2
It was darkness everywhere. No light, no movement, no nothing. Nothing, except for that one echoing voice, over and over, demanding an explanation, demanding the answer no one else could find. But he didn't know the answer, he didn't know and he didn't care. It was dark, and it was so cold, and he couldn't move. God, why had they tied him down? He couldn't breathe, there wasn't any air left, and still it got colder. He wanted to pull free, run away, but he couldn't. He couldn't feel anything, and everywhere he looked there was nothing but the pitch black, and the voice. The voice, yelling, ordering him to find the answer, but god, he didn't know the answer, why didn't they see that? And still the cold, and the darkness, and numb body and terrified mind, and the voice, oh god, the voice ricocheting in his brain, yelling over and over and over but he didn't know didn't they see that he didn't know why couldn't they just let him go and oh god the cold and the dark and he couldn't move and he couldn't breathe and oh god it wasn't stopping it wasn't stopping he couldn't make it stop oh god he was going to die oh god make it end oh god oh god oh god oh god OH GOD--
Screams echoing in his mind, a young man of 19, handsome with dark eyes and hair, jolted out of his thoughts, and looked around with a panicked look. The other twenty or so students in the lecture hall were fully concentrated on the test in front of them, and were oblivious to anything else. Shaking his head, trying to push away the last few shreds of that nightmarish thought, he stared forcibly down at his test paper, and tried his damnedest to concentrate.
In less than a minute, his mind was wondering again. He dragged his thoughts back, but they wouldn't stay for long. He chewed on his pencil for a moment, then began tapping it listlessly. Slowly, the printed words in front of him faded away, and the screams returned in his mind.
With an angry sigh of resignation, he threw his pencil down and stood abruptly. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he stormed out, the heavy wooden door slamming shut behind him.
~~~~~~~~~
Loud techno music pounded throughout the expansive training room, with solid thuds keeping rhythm. Near the center of the room, a black-clad woman attacked a punching bag with swift punches and kicks.
Silently, a lone figure slipped in at the far end, and stood near the door, watching.
Her attack continued, precise and calculated motions. It was clear she'd been going at it for a long while; her brow was beginning to perspire, and strands of blond hair had found their way out of her tight ponytail. But still, the punches and kicks kept coming, as strong as when she'd first started.
A few minutes later, and the music stopped. With one final kick, the heavy punching bag swinging under the force, she stopped, and gulped a few deep breaths of air before turning around. The man at the door gave a clapped slowly for a moment, and flashed a knowing grin as she walked up to him. "Perfect form, as always."
"Of course."
"Not that I'm surprised." He grasped her upper arm. "You stay in amazing shape, Alexa." His hand lingered, and she smiled lightly while taking a step back. As if he hadn't noticed, he held the door open for her to walk out, allowing his fingers to press against the small of her back as he followed. They walked down the hallway, legs moving in unison with long, confident strides.
"When did you get back?"
"Just now."
"You look it. Chinese politicians don't usually make for easy targets." She studied him for a moment. "Nicholas, you look like hell. Go take a shower; I'll head up to the meeting and buy you some ti--"
"Marcus, Nia," a demanding voice suddenly boomed over a nearby intercom, "conference room, now."
~~~~~~~~~
Papers and a textbook were spread out around him, as he sat in front of the crackling fireplace. Working on an essay question, he didn't even realize someone else was in the room until a pair of feet appeared next to him. Looking up, he found an older man, holding two bowls of ice cream.
"Hey, dad."
"Hey." The man sat down next to him, and handed him one of the dishes and a spoon. "Ice cream sounded good, and I knew you'd want some too."
He put the paper aside and took time to eat a spoonful. "Thanks, this is the perfect study food."
"Speaking of studying," the man said a little too casually, "how'd that test go today?"
"You heard?"
The father nodded. "A couple of friends called while you were out driving, wanted to check up on you."
"Oh."
"It's happening again, isn't it?" He didn't reply, but put the bowl and concentrated again on his homework. "Jarod, we need to talk about this."
Jarod sighed, and put his work aside. "I don't think we do."
Major Charles looked at him sympathetically. "I know you're more comfortable talking with Jarod, or even Ethan, but Jarod's pretend won't be done for another couple of days, and Ethan still has another week left of his Europe trip with Emily. Now, son, be realistic--we saw how bad it got the last time you started building up all yours emotions and memories inside. I don't want you to go through with that again."
"Dad, please!" He threw some papers in a folder, slammed his book shut, and stood up. "Look, I'm sorry, but I can't do this. Not with you. You couldn't even begin to understand--"
"I can try."
"No, dad. This isn't something to make an attempt at, it's just something that is. I'm grateful that you don't understand this, because understanding fully what I'm going through means experiencing it for yourself." Jarod walked off. Charles, with an unhappy sigh, collected the bowls and headed towards the kitchen to put them in the dishwasher.
Upstairs in his bedroom, Jarod dropped his things on his desk, and flopped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He hated having these fears, these memories, but it was better than still experiencing them first hand.
What he hadn't admitted to his father, what he detested even acknowledging to himself, was the truth: as horrible as it was, he prayed all the time for someone who'd seen and experienced the same things as him, someone besides the older Jarod, who he could confide in. Someone who'd been through hell too, just so he wouldn't be alone. He knew this truth, and hated himself for it.
~~~~~~~~~~
"That's it?" she asked in a neutral, yet somehow sarcastic tone, with one eyebrow lifted. "That's what this whole meeting is about? Congratulating Marcus on a good kill, and telling us that sometime tomorrow we're getting a new assignment?"
"Yes." The man she spoke to, Marcello, was not one to expand on explanations. It was only one among a growing list of virtues that he clearly lacked.
"We don't know the details ourselves," the man next to Marcello added. "But we do know one thing: it's important."
~~~~~~~~~
They stepped off the elevator, and were walking down the hallway when a white-haired man stopped them. "Nia, can I speak with you for a moment?"
"Sure." She turned to Nicholas. "I'll catch up with you." He nodded, and walked off. She turned her attention back to the older man. "So, what is it, Gregory?"
"It's about tomorrow's meeting, or, more to the point, the target that they'll be telling you about."
"Gregory, if this is work-related--"
"Isn't everything with you?"
"Beside the point. If you want to talk about this, catch up with me in the morning, before the meeting. We can talk then."
"I really think--"
"Gregory, drop it. Now is there anything else, or are we finished?"
"As a matter of fact, there is. Nia, you and Marcus are still using those names. In the halls, in your quarters, anywhere and anytime you're alone--the security cameras record it all, there's no denying it."
"Why would I deny it?"
"You know the Centre doesn't like those names, nor everything connected to them."
"I couldn't care less what they think."
"Big surprise."
"I do the jobs they tell me to. Him calling me Alexa is hardly something that will affect my work."
"It's not about your work; they don't like the reminders. The Centre is not a force to be trifled with."
"Neither am I." She leaned close, and gave him that calculated look that chilled him still today. It was as unnerving as the day he'd first brought her here. "Tell me something, Gregory. Why is that you have a problem with it? It was your brother that gave us the names."
"Vincent is dead," he replied sharply. "In the Centre, you move on or you die. The choice is yours, Nia."
~~~~~~~~~
In the large room that made up his quarters, Nicholas lie on the sofa, his head propped up on a pillow, boredly fiddling with a small hunting blade. It was late, and he'd had a long week. He was exhausted.
The metal door slid open quietly, and Alexa entered. He quickly put the knife down and stood up, not taking his eyes off of her. "What'd Gregory want?"
"Nothing, really. You know him--always something to warn me about." She looked to his bed, unoccupied for the past week. "Tired?"
"A bit."
"You should rest. If we're heading out again tomorrow, it may be your last chance for a while to sleep in your own bed."
He nodded. She turned to leave, and he quickly asked, "Stay with me tonight?"
"Nicholas, you know I can't."
He was hurt, his dark eyes expressed that clearly. He walked up to her, so that they stood just inches apart. His next words were low, somewhat angry, but still hopeful, and came out in a breath. "Kiss me goodnight?"
Pause. Then, she leaned in, pressed her cheek against his, and gently pressed her lips against his skin; her fingers brushed momentarily through his dark hair, near the base of his neck. She wore a low-cut shirt, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and Nicholas, while she held him, saw the soft pale skin of her neck. His breath was quickening at her embrace. He raised a hand, and gave a gentle stroke, trailing from her neck to her back; slowly, he lowered his head to kiss her skin.
Alexa pulled back, and as if she hadn't noticed a thing, reached for the door. "You need to rest," she ordered him gently. "I'll see you in the morning." She stepped through the entryway. "Sleep well, Nicholas." The metal door clicked shut.