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"The Agency: Meeting of Souls "Written By: Karina Pairings 13x6 [eventual], 5xS, 3x4, Others undecided at this time. Warnings: Extreme Alternate Universe setting. Unbetaed, Aussie spelling and grammar, not much else in the early chapters though it will involve murder, stalking and possibly some colourful language down the track. Some Out Of Character depictions are unavoidable considering the alternate universe setting. Rating: M [In Australia that would be mature adult 15+] Not sure with the new rating system about international ratings. Rated for violence and language and adult concepts. Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. That's about as plain as you could say it. Summary: The world took a very different turn with the acknowledgement of psychic abilities and training of select psychic individuals enlisted in elite fields such as law enforcement and politics. A grading system for the strength of psionic abilities was developed and those who were the top of the elite have been dubbed Prime Talents and are highly sought after. Elite institutions have been developed to mark, train and employ individuals with useable psionic talents. The colonies of canon Gundam Wing do exist in this fic and were constructed before the psionic system was founded. With the advent of psionics in open use in society younger people are appearing in positions of power as they are awakening to their abilities earlier and are highly trained in their fields of expertise. Archive: Gundam Wing Universe [gundam-wing-universe.net]
//…// Thoughts
Chapter 41 When he could manage to think clearly he had despaired of ever reaching the sanctuary of his apartment. He had, for the longest time this day, craved the solitude, the security and the state of the art shielding of his home. In particular he craved the luxury of his bed and the promise of the comforting void he could fall into. Sleep. A gentle void, always welcoming to him, a warming embrace that was more than merely desired following the rigours of the day… and the horror of the night just past. //I might… I might have been able to… make a difference.// It had been a far longer day than he had anticipated. His plans to enjoy a relatively early night, including a decent meal, some meditation time and that desired decent nights sleep, had all crumbled to dust. When exactly was the point he had lost control of his life? Somewhere during the long stretch of the day; no, no it was in the early evening he had lost his control over his time. His mistake had been in deciding to take an evening stroll. First there had been the instance of tapping into the `presence', the distinctive psi signature of the Stalker from the Tsuberov case. When he had tapped into that unmistakable presence he had not expected the disruption to his plans would be so… thorough. A simple evenings walk in the park, a little spot of `people watching' in a less than crowded place, that was all he had intended. That was what he lamented in the darkest hours of the early morning. He could not find Him then, in the park when he had `touched', so fleetingly, that distinctive mind and, search as he had, he could find no trace of the individual that signature was unique to. His failure. A missed opportunity the cost of which was to be measured in precious human life. Blood. Rich, dark crimson splattered over filth, filling his vision, filling his mind. The stench filling his nostrils… If they could only have found him! If he had managed to tag the bastard at the park it was possible they might have saved an innocent life. How many more must die because he failed? Treize leaned his back against the cool shower tiles and closed his eyes, tilting his head up to allow the blessedly hot spray to wash over his face. Nothing, nothing at all, would ever be able to erase the horror. Not even the hottest shower could hope to wash away the stench and contamination of death. How could the night have ended so… so… His gut churned, roiling in upset, threatening violent eruption… and there was nothing left to throw up. His throat burned, and his abdominal muscles ached from the violent retching he had already practised. Everything had gone wrong. Everything. After he had dealt with that irascible bastard, Heinrich Otto, the night had fallen into chaos, disorder and blood… so much blood. It was no longer one of the three students who were in danger from this Stalker. Every student at Tsuberov, every teacher, every member of staff was walking a fine line… and they did not know it. Every citizen of the city was in danger from the horror that now walked unseen and unknown in their midst. Gabriella. He needed her. He needed help, her help, to settle the… signature event… from disrupting his day to day abilities. It would be a day, two at the most before she returned if he called her, and call her he must, he knew that. She would help him deal with the residual echo that otherwise would haunt his life and quickly bring him to insanity. A day. Two days perhaps. That was all he needed to endure. Just wait and function adequately until she returned. He must contain his reaction to the murder, hold on to his perceptions and barrier himself against the Killer's persona, and above all he must not alert the other Primes, beyond Gabriella, to his teetering control. He dare not attract the other Prime talents to the city. It was too dangerous with Him walking the streets to have more Primes exposed to danger. The stench was pervasive, the smell of the alley clung to him, despite the steaming hot water and no matter how he scrubbed at himself. It stuck in his nasal passages, lodged in his mouth and the back of his throat, contributing to the nausea that threatened to send him into stomach cramping retching yet again. The reek was so bad that he doubted even liberally dousing himself with the most offensively potent and cheap aftershave he could buy would shift the stench out of his nostrils. The night had not gone as he had expected from the time he had entered the city park. Losing the Stalker after touching him, even for so brief a time, had led to horrors he could not have imagined. He had not a single regret about answering the confusion and pain he sensed through his link with Marquise; it had been the right thing to do. He was a Prime and with the title and power came distinct responsibilities. What had annoyed him, and had delayed him to the point where he had begun to despair he would not be departing the hotel until dawn, was the way Otto had behaved in the aftermath. The man had been in his face, ignoring Psi protocol, demanding to know what he had thought he was doing. There were rules at the University, rules for the safety of the students. He was supposed to be a Prime and as such he was supposed to be aware of the value of rules and regulations… the man had gone on and on, himself breaking every rule there was for dealing with a Prime level telepathic empath. Had he been any less of a Prime level talent he would have taken Heinrich Otto's rules and regulations and shoved them physically so far up where the sun could not shine that the man would have had a foul taste in his mouth. Blessings on Michael for reminding the man just who he was and where they were before he could further besmirch the good name of a Prime. He sighed softly, squeezing more gel onto the loofah, scrubbing at his body, trying yet again to wash away the stench and the filth with it that had to be clinging to him for the smell to be so bad. In all fairness, he supposed, it was not actually that man's fault. He had to admit that should their roles have been reversed he would be just as pissy if someone had come from the `outside' and stamped all over his territory. Otto had made it quite plain that he had not appreciated having his students involved in what he politely termed `shady dealings'. Unauthorised work sessions were banned for Tsuberov students and, if there was a problem with one of the students why had a medical team not been summoned as proper protocol demanded? Fair enough too, Treize sighed, rinsing himself down and sinking to his knees beneath the spray when his skin felt raw and physically washing himself seemed too much of an effort. There were protocols for everything in this world, even when and where one was permitted to scratch one's arse. There were protocols and the title of Prime was not a licence to ignore the rules every Psi was required to live by in modern society. But it helped. Otto had, following his tirade, insisted on having a medical team brought in from Tsuberov and having the three young men examined to ensure they had taken no harm. As if he would ever permit harm to befall one of them! It was an insult to his professional pride and Otto had no idea how close he had come to having a punch in the nose that would have been made up of an entirely telepathic slam directly to his brain… but then that really would have been a breach of etiquette and Treize prided himself on being a professional. Zechs had trusted him. That trust, given honestly and openly, was the highlight of his evening. The high point of his day. Gaining insight into what had shaped that particular young man had filled him with a growing warmth and awareness. Sadly it was an awareness that he knew was dangerous. Dangerous but, like a moth circling ever closer to naked flame, he could not bring himself to turn away. He knew, one day, that he would approach that young man and it would be in no way a conversation on professional ethics or duties. It would be polite, it would be proper in every aspect, and it would be utterly personal on his part. Zechs Marquise had quite captured his attention and he was, in this vulnerable moment in the aftermath of horror, feeling a little bit selfish. Thinking of socially approaching the man, of charming him, of hopefully having his interest returned, made him feel warmer, more comfortable. More human. Just now, he needed that small selfish comfort. He had failed. Another death. There was a second person who had run foul of their target. While he had been engaged at the hotel, learning something of the childhood of a very pleasant young man who through no fault of his own, appeared to be the centre of another mystery, an innocent bystander had died at the hands… mind… of the Stalker. Horribly. Painfully. It was not a quick death or an easy one. It was the same man, the one they were hunting who had an unhealthy interest in one of the three young men he had been with. He had no doubt as to the identity of the killer, though as yet he did not know Who that person was. He had no face, no name to tell him the personal identity of the man, but he knew him. He knew the touch of the man, the insanity that was growing. There was too much he did not know, but what he knew with certainty was that He was getting stronger and more out of control, and that his fall from grace was progressing with frightening rapidity. Twice he had killed, on both occasions he had killed using psychic talent; and neither death had been an easy demise for his victims. The out of control Psi nature of the man and his utter lack of control, might have been a side effect of what Treize prayed was a drug induced talent. To think that a Psi talent in his right mind could kill as this Stalker was… each kill was more extreme that the previous. But the thought of drugs capable of producing such a monster circulating out in the streets was horrifying. "Sir?" "Just give me a few minutes. I'm alright." He was not alright, far from it, but he would be… eventually. When he could stop himself from shaking, when he could convince his gut to stop cramping, when he could get the killer and his victim out of his mind… He would be. His bodyguards had not left him and he did not want to be alone. He could not stand to be alone, without distractions from the rising tide of memory that was not simply memory. He WAS the Killer as he killed, he WAS the Victim as he was murdered… He was all of them, the street walker who had found the murder scene, the first police to arrive on the scene, the forensics officers who needed to examine the scene… He was all of them. He was afraid of losing himself in their horror, in their instinctive rejection of what they witnessed, in their every reaction to the sight, the smells… He was not alone and normally he did not like having company in his apartment at any time. Tonight… well, this morning, really, the sun was well up now. It was a new day and one he really did not feel he could face. He was supposed to be at Tsuberov later this morning to re interview that agent of Otto's. There was something she had witnessed that he could not put his finger on, and he needed to understand what it was. He needed to work with her and he had not slept and he was, quite frankly, exhausted. "Sir, I received a call from Commander Une. Dr Po is on her way to see you." Sally. He had told her he was going home for an early night and she would be anything but amused-and his partner would be anything but happy by her being dragged out so early in the morning. He was not up to dealing with Wu Fei sniping all day. "Fine. How long?" Not yet, he would not yet have to deal with anyone but his guards… and the Doctor shortly. Chang would not come with her, the ire of his partner would be something for him to look forward to later today… and probably every day thereafter for the remainder of the week. Chang would not let him forget and would likely treat the call out as a personal insult though it had nothing to do with him. When she came she would, hopefully, knock him out. He certainly would not fight her on that decision. If she would give him something to relax him, to inhibit his mind from working, then he would be only too happy to take it… Ah! Cowardice on his part, but at this point in time he was not inclined to care. "Her expected time of arrival will be in approximately fifteen minutes." "I'll be ready." He needed to stir himself; get himself washed, get the filth off of him, get dressed. One did not greet the good doctor in one's birthday suit, especially when said physician was the wife of Chang Wu Fei. He would never hear the end of it if he answered the door in the nude… not that he would be answering the door to anyone today. Someone else could do it so he would not have to face the stairs leading down to the living area of his quarters. They would not leave him unattended when he was like this. "Commander Une has contacted the University and advised Security Chief Otto there will be a delay in your slated interviews as a result of new information in the case." The bastard would love that. He would be demanding to know what new information they had and why he was not being kept appraised of the situation… and he was probably complaining about the nights activities too. Une would have a piece of him for interfering with a young male student without addressing appropriate protocol. He was just too tired to care really. "Well enough." At least he would not need to drag himself to the University to interview that redhead, Catherine, wasn't it? That was good. He was well aware of his current performance ability at the present time and he was not inclined to place the woman at risk trying to cover for his shortcomings. Such work would have to wait until he managed to clear out the residue of the insanity he had tapped into and the horror of what he had witnessed. He needed to get himself under control, and soon, or he would disturb the sleep of the budding Prime he least wished to see distressed and with whom he already shared a bond. Maxwell and Marquise were both lightly drafted with sleep inducing chemicals by the team of medics after each had eaten a satisfactory meal. He had remained long enough to ensure Marquise settle, himself eating to replenish lost calories and to speak with the Dean, who had been far more accommodating than Otto. He had spoken to the man and stressed the precautions taken for the session and only when Marquise was settled to sleep behind the safety of his unique mind shield with security guards posted at the door to the suite did he leave the hotel, intent on finding his own bed. Those diamond hard shields he was learning to create merely from associating with Zechs were proving their worth for him now. He had managed to contain the horror, to stop it from escaping from his control and involuntarily sharing it with others. The shields he had found in no other psi and had to have been developed by Marquise, were now his greatest asset in his struggle to contain the horror he had witnessed. He needed to sit down and have a long work session with Marquise to learn how best to refine and polish the shield to perfection. There was so much potential for shields of this calibre in the future. With this grade of shielding perfected and taught to every high level telepath and empath he suspected no T/E psychic of Prime or near Prime level ever need fear the encroachment of the mass mind on his sanity. There were a great many things he needed to do… but not now. This was neither the appropriate time nor the place to entertain such thoughts. There would be talk of advancements to shielding technology when the entire mess at Tsuberov was resolved satisfactorily. Now there were other worries, more important concerns. They needed to stop more people from dying at the mind of a man who was steadily becoming a monster. Was it already too late for him? Was he already beyond help? Treize was very much afraid the man was beyond any help medical science could offer. From the psychic residue filling that alley, Treize feared the man was fast descending into insanity. He was not going to be merely insane, but violently so. Murderously, whether he intended to harm someone or not. Certainly at the present time he was unstable, more so than at the last contact Treize had examined in the suite at Tsuberov had suggested. He was mentally unstable, his psychic abilities were all over the place and where before his interest in one of those three young men had been innocent, `pure', one might say, what had developed over the course of the incident in the alley clearly showed rapid deterioration of his mind… of his humanity. What had been pure intent, adoration, even love, was deteriorating into raw sexual desire. An unreasonable sexual desire that Treize had found only in the minds of those who were convicted instigators of violent sex crimes. It clearly indicated a greater danger to the three young men. If the Stalker managed to get his hands on the one he was targeting, then it was almost a certainty there would be a sexual assault. A violent sexual assault, and with his mind approaching overdrive the Stalker would undoubtedly turn the unfortunate individual into a vegetable. If he did not explode their brain, as he had done to that prostitute during the night. Literally exploding his brain… and… other… Treize choked back bile, forcing himself to resist the gag reflex. He had already thrown up until his sides had cramped and he could barely breathe. He had had his guards in a near panic trying to stabilise him… but he was not the only one who had so violent a reaction… and the others in attendance of the crime scene had not had the benefit of the psychic residue to fuel their physical reaction. Between the reek of the garbage in the alley and bodily fluids, and the body parts strewn… shit! Treize almost fell out of the shower to retch violently into the toilet. Surely he had nothing left to throw up… and wasn't dry retching a joy! In amidst the uncontrollable tremors that shook his body from the tips of his fingers to his toes, he was aware of low voices and hasty instructions being given, but he could not understand a work spoken so close to him. Every cramp of his gut speared pain throughout his aching body and his head pounded with pressure he desperately wanted relieved, but he could not, he dare not, let it out. He was freezing cold though he had been baking himself in a steaming hot shower only moments before… and would this nausea ever stop?! A towel thrown over his shoulders, hands touching him, steadying him, and the projection of a safely neutral psi shield in an attempt not to further distress his already strained control. His guards were trained to be as invisible to his hyper talent as it was possible for a non T/E Prime to be. The hands touching him were sheathed in silk, a natural insulator against psi, a measure used to handle telepaths and empaths who preferred not to be touched where touch was required. It was as much as they could do to help him physically and mentally until he could help himself. And it would be a few minutes before he could do more than dry retch and uselessly grasp the toilet in an effort to support his weight. He doubted he would be able to move under his own power any time soon; if he could just stop remembering! Stop thinking about it… stop seeing it, feeling it, being it! It was as if he had killed that poor boy. He with the killer, the stalker. He had tapped into the residue left at the crime scene, could pick the perpetrator of the crime out of a crowd even though he had not once viewed his physical face. He knew this individual on a far deeper level than that of mere physical flesh. He had sensed it, felt it, watched it… as though it was still happening, over and over again, endlessly repeating in his mind, echoing… He killed as the killer killed. He experienced the rising surge of insanity and incompetence… the anger, the betrayal, the disgust…the lust…the desire… the hate. He had lived it all as the killer. He was the boy, tired, alone, desperate to survive. New to the ways of the streets, desperate enough to sell his body, desperately trying to project a professional persona. He had been told he would get more that way… Pain, terror, fear, crying… Perhaps if he could gain control of himself he might more closely examine his reading of the victim and perhaps even `see' the face of his killer. The boy had found him to be… attractive… initially He was vaguely aware of voices somewhere near, a psi awareness not strong enough to break through the emotions, the memories filling him. He could not break himself out of it, could not stir himself to see what they were doing, who they were talking to. Cold tiles against his back, cold and smooth as the alley walls had been cool and rough. He was leaning against the wall in his bathroom? The cramps in his middle made it almost impossible to drag air into aching lungs and the gag reflex was rising again. If he could just stop thinking he might… Something slammed into the side of his neck, staggering him and causing him to tumble, losing his precarious balance. A sharp prick somewhere at the centre of the impact… Hypergun, his mind identified. Not that he was particularly interested, but he should be, the thought was vague. He hated the damned things. Chilling cold seemed to creep from the point of impact, seeping through him with frightening speed and the nausea began to settle and his awareness of the world began to recede. A moment of panic was settled as a silk swathed hand pressed under his jaw and raised his head so that all he could see were intense blue eyes. "You can recognise me? Treize? It's Sally. I'm going to put you out, Treize. I am also going to give you a chemical neural inhibitor to shut down your abilities for a few hours. No, no, its alright, no need to panic." Hands held his head, cupping his face and those eyes were intense. "It will be for just a few hours, just until you can regain your equilibrium. Gabriella has called me and I have her consent to put you out. Gabriella ordered it, Treize. Do you understand? She will be here late this afternoon and I have her consent to put you out until she arrives. Do you understand what I am saying?" Had he nodded? He was incapable of speech, he didn't even bother trying, but he must have made some sign she could understand because she stuck him with a second hyper injection, this one to his left wrist, and the world quickly faded to shades of gray and then black. So long as it stopped him from thinking, from remembering, from Feeling… he would agree to anything. ———————————— Sally monitored the slowing of his heart, aware of his guards at the door, of Michael hovering protectively over her. He had made room for her without hesitation, never questioning her method of bringing the man back under control. One hand was pressed to his throat and the other to the pulse point in his wrist, allowing her to monitor the steady easing of the straining heart and the slowing, deepening breaths. Treize had, unthinkably, been on the pinnacle of crisis and she would gut the stupid bastard who had exposed him to a violent crime scene when he was already on the edge and exhausted from an intense work session. And just what the hell had happened to have him working in the first place, when he was supposed to be heading home? He had spoken to her just before she had left the Agency and told her he was looking for a decent meal and a decent nights sleep. An early night, for God's sake, not an early morning visit to a crime scene where an attack violent enough to have seasoned investigators incapacitated. She would express her discontent with that later, after she had him settled and comfortable. She wanted answers and she needed, obviously, to express herself in a manner that would leave no one in doubt of her displeasure. `Home to bed' did not mean wandering around the city overloading on psychic residue to the point of this mess. She wanted more of an explanation than what she had thus far been given, and if everyone trod hot bricks around her the way they were, she could just imagine how they would cringe when that irascible old gypsy arrived later in the day. Beneath her hands his pulse was slowing appreciably and his breathing had steadied and deepened and she was not pleased with the amount of heat coming from his body. "Alright, Michael. Handle him carefully but get him wiped down and get him into bed while I prepare the monitoring equipment." Turner inclined his head, moving aside to permit Sally to leave the bathroom, reaching for a towel as she left the room. The doctor was emanating a great deal of emotion at the moment, now that the Prime was unconscious and his psi ability restrained by the chemical inhibitor and would not be affected by her anger. He prided himself on having a strong survival instinct and he was not about to get in her way. His mother had always told him never to piss off a Healer, at some stage in his life he would need one and one accumulated Karma, so it was best to accumulate the good kind. Sally Po had a certain reputation one respected if one valued one's life. He was not a slight man in build, nor was he weak, but the unconscious Prime was neither small nor slight in build, however he was reluctant to have anyone else assist him in getting the man into bed. The fewer people who handled him, even if he was under the influence of a neural inhibitor to dull down his talent, the better. One did not needlessly handle a Prime Telepathic Empath and he judged it best to manage on his own. He had felt the distress the Prime was under as only another telepath could share it. Even through the medium of the silk gloves it had been strong enough to shake his own resolve, and if he had not needed to focus on the Prime he too would have been heaving his guts up at that alley. He had been under a great deal of stress managing the Tsuberov Chief of Security while the Prime worked in the suite at the hotel. Heinrich Otto was a stubborn bastard who did not like being told he could not do anything, especially when what he could not do was directly related to his job. It was as well he was accustomed to dealing with the Prime who took stubborn to new, grand levels. Even when they had permitted Otto to enter the suite the man had been a thorn in the side, growling and grumbling and insisting, though admittedly he would have done the same thing if their situations had been reversed. He would not have liked anyone else muscling in on his security detail. Surprisingly it had been the young Winner boy who had managed the Security Officer the best. Quatre Winner had a way about him that had helped to sooth matters over. What had shut the man up though had been the call that had come in over Otto's wrist com, and just who the identity of the caller had been Michael would have loved to know. Someone who had the clout to shut the man up and get him to work with them, not against them, to settle the three young people for the night. He would have loved to have overhear the brief conversation, Otto had retired to take the call, but Michael had watched and Otto had practically snapped to attention, listening intently. There had been no argument from the Security Chief, merely an acknowledgement from what he could see. Whoever the caller had been, Otto held a great deal of respect for them. Throwing aside the towel he had been using to wipe the Prime down, he took care in lifting the man into a fireman's carry, grunting softly at his weight. Treize Khushrenada carried a lot of muscle, and for all his trim looks he weighed a hefty amount. The bed was turned down and ready for him and Michael wasted no time in settling the Prime, drawing the blankets over him as Sally ran lightly up the steps to the loft. "Thank you Michael. I've just put a call in to Une and informed her I will be keeping Treize asleep until Prime Gabriella arrives. I would advise you to take this opportunity to get some rest yourself. The Agency will be providing security whilst he is on down time." "With all due respect, Dr. Po, I would prefer…" "Go and get some sleep and then come back and pester me… but first you can tell me just what the hell he was doing out and about in the city instead of being in bed!" Damn, she could be a scary bitch when she was in a snit. Michael was thankful she was an empath, not a telepath, not that he thought she could have read him through his shields. Regardless, the woman sometimes acted as though she could read your mind and he was not inclined to get her temper up any higher than it was at present. "He went for a walk after leaving the office, Ma'am. Things sort of… happened… from there." No amount of respectful Ma'aming was going to save his sorry arse and she looked anything but mollified. Why did it have to be him who was left to explain the nights activities? If the Prime had remained conscious he would have handled the questions with much more aplomb… or maybe he would have been smart enough to feign unconsciousness. Yes, the man was not an idiot. "He `touched' the Stalker whilst walking through the park and alerted us. Under his authority a search was set in operation, but unfortunately we could not locate the individual. He did not remain at the park for the full search, but enroute to his apartment he caught distress from a high level psi and responded to it." The blue eyes intensified though she hardly looked calmer. "Who?" "One of the Tsuberov students, Zechs Marquise. The one they say will make a Prime T/E. As it turned out a younger student who does not know how to control her abilities triggered a flashback to a traumatic event in his past; and she had an unfavourable effect on Duo Maxwell as well. The Prime," could he get away with down playing the events of the night? "dealt with the matter, but on our way here we caught a report on the police band." "A death, I take it, from his reaction." "Yes, ma'am. They were requesting a psi to read a crime scene and we were close to the location and had to pass it to reach the apartment complex. As we approached the crime scene the Prime reacted badly. It is my belief he may have detected the Stalker at the scene." "And in an attempt to pick up the asshole he poked his aristocratic nose where it should not have been." Sally sighed, pulling a hand through her hair in irritation. "Damned fool." "With respect, Ma'am, it is pertinent to the Tsuberov incident." Sally scowled, glancing from the sleeping Prime to the guard. "How so? He was not at Tsuberov when this happened." "He has positively identified the killer of the victim in the alley as being the Stalker from Tusberov." "Shit." Sally rubbed her hands over her face, sorting her thoughts carefully into some form of order. He would probably not take kindly to her knocking him out when they might have had a hot lead on the suspect… but then in this matter as far as she was concerned, his health came first. "Are you sure about that?" "Yes. He… The Prime said… Ma'am, something happened in that alley. Something he didn't expect to happen. I don't know it all but… I think he may have… lived… the murder through the killer's mind. What I `read' from him was powerful and it was… sick." "Sickening, to be sure." Sally sighed. "No, ma'am, well yes, but… I know the Prime and Prime Gabriella were hoping to save this man, the Stalker from Tsuberov, but I think it has progressed too far. He shielded me from the full effects of what he experienced, but I caught enough to have a reasonable idea of what he `shared'. You don't know what happened in the alley, you don't know what happened there. With all due respect, ma'am, if you stood in that alley you would be throwing up too. There was not one individual there, even seasoned investigators, who were not vomiting at some stage." Sally considered the man for a long moment, noting his pale colouring and the pinched look he was developing. "Are you alright?" "I will be, thank you, when I can get the time to throw up my dinner and drown myself in a shower to try to feel clean again. Yes, Ma'am, I'm fine. I didn't experience anything to the extent the Prime did." "Well, I will save my questions for later. Go and clean up, get out of here and don't bother turning up again until late this afternoon. If you need assistance you will call me, yes?" Not really a question, he knew and he inclined his head. He was not inclined to be knocked out as effectively as she had dealt with the Prime, but he would not compromise his performance if he could not handle the after effects of the nights activities. "Yes, Ma'am." "Go get some sleep. Believe me, Treize will not be going anywhere today." ———————————— "Grandmother, you should be sleeping." The old woman whose name was known to terrorise the most hardened of politicians looked fragile in her wrinkled sleep shift with an oversized colourful crochet shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She shuffled across the room, her slipper clad feet silent on the plush piled carpet, her steps steady. While her stride was short she never-the-less moved with the confidence and poise one expected to find in the noble born. There was little visible sign to indicate she was agitated. "Pfft!" The expressed concern was dismissed with a flick of gnarled fingers. "Plenty of time there is being for sleeping when dead one is. Gabriella is needing to be getting to her Naughty Boy and sorting out nasty mess. This alone is of importance. Unhappy Gabriella is. Most unhappy. Lost one I am thinking we have, to insanity and bastard drugs. Not intending to lose another to like unhappy circumstance. Much is there for Gabriella to be doing." The grey haired man stood with his back ramrod straight as he watched her shuffle to her chair, his eyes belayed his years with their fiery spark. It had been many years since he had worked with her on a regular basis, but he could see that despite the intervening years nothing had changed. She would never have permitted another psi to board the plane now being prepared at the air terminal for her use without adequate rest having been taken. Gabriella had one rule for herself and another rule for every other psi in the ESUN. "The underground trade in chemical enhancement and psi stimulation is, unfortunately, increasing. There was only two chemical cocktails on the black market a few years ago, but recently there has been a rise in designer drugs aimed at inducing psi development in people with little measurable ability. The illicit drug trade is flourishing across Europe and continuing to grow steadily despite our best efforts to shut them down. We closed down a section of the drug road that passed through Sanc only a few weeks ago. They cover their tracks well, but we managed to apprehend the local dealers and traders and gained some vital information which we have passed on to the International Law Enforcement Agency. Stephan is determined to keep their designer drugs off the streets of New Port City." "Wanting them stopped Gabriella is. Lives they are ruining with their poison. This one Gabriella's Khushrenada is hunting… thinking this one may be too far gone to be saved Gabriella is, and tragedy that will be. Great tragedy. Knowing this one Gabriella will when she sees her Naughty Boy. Too much tragedy Gabriella is seeing every day. Much must change and always not enough time there is to make changes." She looked tired, older than he had ever seen her look, a clear indication she should be tucked up into bed for much of the day instead of preparing to fly across Europe and immerse herself in deep level Psi work. She was old and she made no allowances for her advancing years. "That is as may be, Grandmother, but you should be sleeping. You are not as young as you used to be and you would never allow another psi to be active after the level of work we were performing only a few hours ago. The truth of the matter is you are not the only T/E Prime on Earth. Surely one of the others can deal with this?" "No! This for negotiation is not! No. This budding Prime with the Sexy Eyes and my Khushrenada are Gabriella's concern. Calling another Prime might I need to do, eventually, but not now. No. Not until Gabriella is certain be needing extra oomph we will to handle situation. Chemical shit on streets designed to fry brain cells must be stopped, not just in Sanc. How many more innocents out on streets might awaken as this one who is killing people because of this trade? If can not be saved this one being, if crossed the line he has, then you are knowing what must be done for safety of everyone." He sighed softly, watching the fire in her that appeared to wipe years from her face. "We are trying, Grandmother. My department liaises with agencies around the world and out into the colonies to stamp out this illicit trade, but it takes time and it takes people to get the job done. Highly trained and skilled people. " "Always it is being time, and always it is being people, and always it is never enough and people die. Nothing new to Gabriella is this, and Gabriella is knowing what nasties you and others have witnessed. For the large part nothing changes except names of people, places and the drugs they peddle. This Gabriella knows of old. Worried before was Gabriella, but worry no longer is right word. Psi stimulants, Pagan. Thinking about it you should be. Super Psi. How many are using stimulants, how many are using to develop, not tripping? Not safe. Not safe for anyone." "I am thinking about it and I am praying this is only an isolated incident. Are you certain about the abilities? Are you sure of the strength of this person?" "No certainty is possible. Naughty Boy is knowing more and Gabriella will be finding out exactly what he is knowing. Trusting her Khushrenada's perspective Gabriella is, and he is saying too much is developing too quickly in this one's head. Now, after sharing initial perception and speaking to investigators at crime scene… Fearing Gabriella is that lost him we have." "Still, you can not be certain. You can't know…" "My Khushrenada, my Naughty Boy, he knows. Very much talent has this one Gabriella has taken under her wing and trained. His perceptions are better than any other of existing Primes and sensitivity is higher. Younger, more stable up here." She tapped a gnarled finger to her temple. "Maturing and developing yet lie ahead, but trust Gabriella on this. Khushrenada knows and Gabriella is trusting his perceptions. Needed Gabriella is and going Gabriella will be." "But you should at least take the time to rest after the session. It was quite an intensive encounter and you have had barely three hours sleep." He knew how tired she had to be. She had bore the brunt of the work to keep them observing the Prime Khushrenada as he worked, he had just been along for the ride, restricted within intense shields, but it had exhausted him. "Sleeping on plane Gabriella will be. Much there is to be done first. Forgotten Gabriella has not to greet her children." The stubborn old woman would not see reason and rather than waste his breath Pagan sighed in defeat, half turning as the door was thrust open. He was prepared to snarl at the servant who ignored his instruction to leave them undisturbed, and he almost choked on his stifled reprimand. The old gypsy might resist him and not return to bed but he knew the importance of keeping her in relative isolation after an intense work session; if she would not sleep, keeping her quiet and isolated was the next best option. His eyes widened as the words died in his throat unspoken and he was quick to come to his feet, inclining his head in respect. The man who closed the door and stood in silence stared long and hard at the woman huddled into her shawl. She looked tiny, so fragile, but they both knew the strength and determination beneath that frail exterior. "You should be sleeping, Gabriella." His voice was deep, a low bass rumble, blue eyes shuttered behind half lowered lids as he studied the woman seated before the roaring fire. The sitting room was psi shielded and electronically secured against more mundane methods of eavesdropping. Many of the private suites throughout the castle had been modified to be considered secure for this most private and delicate of conversations. On learning she was enroute to New Port City Pagan had prepared a secure suite for her use, suspecting whatever might have brought her to Sanc after so many years they would not wish unauthorised listeners to overhear. The door closed behind him with a satisfactory click, indicating they were secure, and the tall man inclined his head to acknowledge Pagan. Without a word he strode across the room with quiet confidence to take the vacant oversized chair set to the right of the marble hearth. Watching, Pagan noted Gabriella made no move, as protocol dictated, to stand as the King entered the room, nor did she so much as twitch as he seated himself across from her. It was indeed, he mused, one rule for Gabriella and another for everyone else. "I have spoken to my legal department. The paperwork will be fast tracked and ready prior to your departure. We will require three hours to finalise it." "This is acceptable. Interviewing grandchildren will occupy Gabriella adequately." Blue eyes hardened and there was no doubting the man was not in an entirely sociable frame of mind. Given what had occurred a few hours previously Pagan was plainly surprised he had put in an appearance with the old woman present. "I have consented only for an interim period. Understand I do not intend for you to be under the impression I have agreed with you on this matter. I am, at best, uncertain over the wisdom of this move. I had intended to place him within Sanc, it is my preferred option, but for a time I will permit this. I will observe how events progress and make a final judgement in the future." "Well aware is Gabriella and telling you now she is not letting this one go. Told you I have why stepping in Gabriella is, and doubting you should not. Knowing what is best Gabriella is." "You are not always right, old woman. It is purely your stubborn nature that makes you interfere and refuse to allow him to come home. There is no reason why I should not summon him to Sanc this very minute. I have every right to as his King." Dark gypsy eyes lifted from the fire to study the younger man for a long moment before Gabriella settled a little deeper in her chair, her eyes hooded as she flicked a finger dismissively. "Home?" A wealth of meaning backed the word and none of it was good. She did not miss the faint flinch and smirked. "Not born to Sanc this one. Not under your control." The King knew as well as she did that the subject of their discussion had never set foot within Sanc's borders. Watching the pair clash glares Pagan felt the tension rising. It had been a fiery discussion in the early hours of the morning, with Gabriella in full verbal flight and the King equally as vehement and vocal. During the course of their discussion the Queen had departed the private study in tears and Pagan had wished he might have followed her and escaped the volatile atmosphere. He was not really sure who he had stayed to protect, the King or the irascible old gypsy. "At this time, no, Gabriella will not permit Sexy Eyes to enter Sanc. Much is Gabriella wanting to know, and not all questions are having answers to be found here. This one, blooded to Sanc or no, his future lies not here but elsewhere." His blue eyes hardened, narrowing further. He was far from in agreement with the old woman and Stephan of Sanc was not accustomed to being countermanded as she had done repeatedly over the course of the morning. She would have her own way, Pagan was confident of that. Gabriella had connections that could be brought to place pressures on Sanc they could not afford at this time, and the King was well aware of it. Gypsy she might have been born, but the bare footed, wild haired gypsy girl had grown up to be one of the most influential people in the Earth Sphere. She had voiced her demands to the King and he had refused her barely an hour after they had concluded their session. She had reiterated her demands and he had refused her a second time; a grave mistake in Pagan's view. They might have negotiated an agreement between them, but Stephan's stubborn pride had reared its head once too often when dealing with Gabriella, and on this occasion she had set the cat amongst the pigeons in his own house. She had aired dirty laundry, ignoring the pain brought to all parties, confident she was in the right and determined to win the day. It was true what his father had told him all those years ago. When Gabriella came to Sanc sanity departed and chaos settled in for a long stay. It would take considerable effort on Stephan's part to make peace with his Queen. " `You' will not allow him to make his home here. You? Always it is `you', Gabriella. Your decisions are right. `You' know best. `You' are God's gift to the Earth Sphere and don't argue just obey! What gives you the right to dictate to the governments of the world? What gives you the right to interfere with the lives of people you have not even associated with in more than a score of years? You left Sanc in high dungeon more than twenty years ago and now you are back, making demands yet again and expecting the world to bow before you. What gives you the right? Why are you the only one to decide where he goes and what he does?" Dark eyes snapped fire across the distance separating them. "The title Prime gives Gabriella this right. Blood in her veins gives Gabriella this right. Mismanagement of the young one gives Gabriella this right. What happened to drive Crystabelle away from Sanc gives Gabriella this right! Assuring you, Gabriella is, there will be no mismanagement where this young one who is Crystabelle's son is concerned under Gabriella's protection." "That remains to be seen. We will have further discussions concerning this young man and your intentions toward him and others who, heaven save them, have the misfortune to attract your interest." Her grin was frighteningly feral. She held no fear of him, either as a physically stronger male or as King, and Pagan wondered if his grandmother feared anyone. Old as she was she was a fighter and to his knowledge she had always fought for the betterment of psi conditions. His investigations into her past had revealed much that had, quite frankly, sickened him and he understood why she was so adamant about improving working conditions and introducing legislation to protect psychic rights. Her early years had been less than pleasant. "Pays it does not to underestimate cranky old women and safe it is not, generally speaking, to have this old woman spitting fire. That you are not wanting to do. Signing papers you will and then shutting up and stepping back you will, leaving Zechs Marquise to Gabriella's hand. Having a mess in your house you are to clean up." "And whose fault is it there is a mess now to be cleaned?" Blue eyes burned with barely suppressed rage. "You waltz into the country as though you own it. You turn up here and have no second thoughts about throwing your weight around from the onset. You muscle your way into the palace…" "Escorted in I was." her smile was saccharine sweet. "You demand an audience with Pagan, keep him in seclusion for hours on end and then casually demand I sign away the crown's right to supervise…" "Yes, yes, all of this Gabriella is guilty of. Knowing this we do and getting on with things you need to be. Gabriella has plane to catch." "Woman, you are the biggest pain in the arse I have ever had to deal with!" Dark eyebrows arched and a grin to rival the Cheshire Cat's gave new life to the mass of wrinkles that was her face. "Pain in arse, yes, this is Gabriella. Bigger pain in arse Gabriella leaves behind in passing is best impression on future she is leaving. Always has this is being so." "You upset Katherine needlessly! You demand the right to supervise one of the `cousins' in absentia, and in the next breath you demand to steal the brightest and the best of our youngsters! Why?" Ah, he had such fire! He was so like the sexy young thing she had encountered on her first stay in Sanc. It was hardly surprising given they carried the same bloodlines. Stephan of Sanc was a handsome man, white gold hair, piercing blue eyes and he hardly looked his advancing years. The studs of Sanc aged gracefully, and though he was approaching sixty he was so young when measured against the years she had conquered in the days of her life. He had been a fine King and from reports he was well loved in his lands. For an arranged marriage he dealt well with his Queen, though that might change if he did not sweet talk his way out of trouble quickly. She had debated with herself whether or not to inform the Queen of the exact events of the past, and in the end she had done so. To his horror and pain. It might not be easy for him to restore peace to his marriage. They were handsome creatures. Sex on legs that was the blonde Vikings of Sanc and even her advancing years gave her no immunity to their beauty or their charm… and their fire she adored. "More to life is there being than life lived inside borders of Sanc. Nice place, but more is out there." She flipped a finger toward the window. "Escape from Sanc has your daughter, though returning she will be. Training at Tsuberov was best choice, and commend you for making that choice Gabriella does. Time it is to let young one's fly coop. Like homing pigeons they see the world and then they return, but return they do having gained experience of the wider world. This is good. This is how it should be." His scowl set her to grinning. He was in no fine mood, but fighting with him allowed her to enjoy the fire of the bloodline. Few there were in the wide ESUN who would stand up to her and give her a good old fashioned fire breathing argument, and she loved him for it. She had been angered by his stubborn refusal to listen to her, and she had warned him he needed to set his house in order. He had not listened and she was rather thankful she would not be a witness to what would definitely be some fiery discussions between the King and his Queen. She would have preferred to sleep herself out in the comfort of the bed she had been given. She was not getting any younger and her days were numbered, but she could not ignore what had taken place in that distant city. It would take her precious hours to reach her Khushrenada, and she could rest in transit but she needed to be there, to assist him in adjusting his shields and in regaining his mental equilibrium. What he had experienced… She had felt more than a mere echo of it through their bond and the sooner she could depart the better. For a short while she could trust her Naughty Boy to others, but only for a short while. There were children here too who needed her, and she would not abandon them. There had already been too much of that in Sanc and she would not compound the problem. "Training of young minds in Sanc is good, but limits there are. Gabriella has determined with one, at least three there are, with deeper talents untouched. Left here the one called Adrian will not develop to full potential. Wasting talent and lives is not efficient when lives have much to offer. Other important concern makes Gabriella point bony finger at young ones. Long has Sanc kept her gypsy blood contained. Good this is not. With some, yes, no problem, but with others… ah, contained fire is not so good. Who better than gypsy to know restlessness when it lives in blood and bone?" tbc |
