Date: 07-18-98

Rating R mild sexual content, violence and innuendo -- a bit on the racy side. 

Please send all comments to Chensuu@aol.com

 

Tom closed his eyes and shuddered. The wind had picked up, causing the hair on his arms to part in all directions, making way for the goosebumps that dotted his flesh like a stubborn rash. The cellar was drafty but intact. The fire had not touched the bottom level. He pulled against his restraints for the millionth time, a lackluster ambiance settling over him. It was no use. He was not going anywhere. Soon his mother would arrive and then he would die. Killed with more questions in his head than answers to the puzzles that plagued him. 

Across the room, a door creaked and Tom closed his eyes to concentrate. The narcotic his mother had "kissed" into his mouth was blocking his capabilities and he felt worse than sick. He was for all intents and purposes, blind. The dark cloud of his thoughts denied him any comfort. Not for the first time, since his betrayal began, Tom thought about dying. What would it be like he wondered? He believed in no god. It was not in his nature and besides, if there was a god in the Christian sense, then Tom had no desire to meet him. He had killed before....Probably would have again if fate had not intervened and brought him to this place, back to the comforts of his family. His wary mind drifted to thoughts of religion and persecutions, the stories of ancient Christians who died for the strength of their beliefs. Ironic that he would die for the opposite. 

Tom laughed coldly. His mouth was as dry as the endless dust that encased the hot California ground. He tried to lick his lips but he had no saliva. He laughed again, more sarcastic this time, angry at himself for being abducted so easily. But she was his mother.... 

He could barely remember her. The fragrance of her hair when she held him and the soothing way he could hear her heartbeat against his chest were hidden memories awakened only hours earlier when he had seen her again. She had welcomed him back with a tenderness that had surprised him. Too late he realized his foolishness when the venom of her kiss had brought him to his knees and succumbed him to a darkness of pain and nightmarish visions he could not understand or explain. 

The wind again, full force this time, and Tom knew that he was no longer alone. Somewhere a door had opened. Another being watched him. Waiting for what? For him to call out...to confess to his indiscretions? Tom would do neither. That he had betrayed his origin was not a secret any more. He had acknowledged his crime to his mother willingly, his soul aching for what? Forgiveness? Tom did not think so. Understanding of why he had made his decision was more likely. It was important that she comprehend his reasoning. He did not really know why. 

Tom's head turned sharply to the left, her closeness drawing one last insight from him. She appeared a moment later, delicate and lovely in a flowing dress and sandals. His eyes were on her face immediately like she knew they would be. Tom could not help it. He turned away, not wanting to look at her and hating the thought of loving her. He was glad the emotion of love was not yet within his grasp. He thought briefly of Sloan and was sad it was not. 

"You are not well." She walked past him, her fingers upon him like flames against his naked flesh. 

Tom did not answer her. He looked back in her direction. The nonchalance of her expression startled him. She was at ease, as if planning to torture and kill your son happened every day. He no longer knew his mother. Tom wondered if he ever did. 

"This doesn't have to be difficult Tom. Cooperate with us." Her voice was firm but demanding. 

He still did not respond. He only looked at her, marveling at the subtle way she commanded him and the queasy way his insides pulled to obey her. 

She lay her head against his bare arm and brushed her lips against him. Tom squeezed his eyes shut, willing the long buried emotions to regress once again but they did not listen. 

"What do you want from me?" He hissed the words at her and she recoiled, momentarily shocked by his strength. He turned away again. 

"There is passion in you. I would not have expected it." She touched his face and brought his eyes to hers. Bending forward, she kissed him. Her lips moved against his, forcing her life into him and breaking his already fragile exterior. There was a part of Tom that knew these actions were wrong. He felt uncomfortable and lost at the same time, unwilling to deny himself the closeness, but not wanting to allow her the control. Her tongue parted his lips and stroked his teeth settling into a steady rhythm of fluctuating force and apathy. Tom moved against her as much as his binds would allow and she returned his fire by pressing him back into the wooden post that held him, digging splinters into his skin.. His mind whirled with shared images from their brief intimacy. Dimensions of time and space held no meaning. He needed air. He wanted to breathe and feel his heart beat normally in his chest. Tom forced his eyes open wide. She was looking straight through him. 

The woman watched him closely, captivated by the icy opaqueness of his blue eyes. She wanted to be near him. To capture the feeling of his eyes upon her that was at once cold and as full of fire as any expression she had ever seen. They were not emotional people but they did feel. Right now, looking at Tom, the feelings that coursed throughout her body felt anything but maternal. She stroked his naked chest and circled her nail across his hardened nipple. He breathed in deeply, and she sensed a small tremor within him. Tom closed his eyes. She missed the sight of them. She wanted at once to hold him and to hurt him, to bring him to the brink of ecstasy and pain. She longed to hear him beg for his life and beg for her. 

"You look well, mother." He said opening his eyes. The last word was a spoken challenge. Behave yourself. 

"And you Tom." She moved away slightly, surprised at the strength of her desire for him. It overwhelmed her completely and she felt her body temperature start to rise. "You are beautiful." She said it matter-of-factly and he nodded. It was not a response really, more like an acknowledgment for her benefit. She would have been disappointed if there had been more. 

"Your death has been decided." She said, then almost as an afterthought. "It was not my choice to make." 

"What would you have chosen?" He challenged her. "For me to live? To continue in this existence where I don't belong, living with people I should want to destroy but I don't? People who want to destroy me because of what I am?" 

"We have to survive." 

"Yes. At all costs." 

She heard the sarcasm in his words and smiled. He was not afraid of her. He was not afraid of dying. If anything he seemed to welcome the finality and peace that his death would bring. Her eyes narrowed. It wasn't that easy. He wasn't that weak. She turned away from him as a door opened behind them. 

"Christopher is here. Do you remember him Tom?" 

Tom shook his head. "No." 

"He is meticulous. This will be hard for you." She paused searching his expression. "And for me." Touching his face one last time, her fingers played across his lips. This time she wished he would respond but he remained silent, his eyes locked on the shadows in the distance. Her son had not forgotten all of his training. 

Tom watched warily as Christopher moved to stand before him. The other man stood a head taller and his muscular chest flexed his total control. He reached towards Tom and turned his face first one way, then the other. Tom was aware of his mother watching him. He knew that as much as it bothered her to view the proceedings, she would not leave without some vindication for what he had done. Tom breathed deeply and waited for Christopher to make the first move. He did not have to wait very long. 

The punch when it came felt molten in his stomach. A fiery, thrust of agony that doubled him over in his restraints and left him gasping for a stray breath of air. Tom's eyes watered and he snarled as Christopher moved in to strike him again. The second strike connected with his mouth, and Tom saw his lips explode in a canvas of red that splattered across Christopher's face and shirt. He sagged in his restraints, his arms stretched out above him. The wooden post in the background served as a shadowy complement. 

Tom opened his eyes and searched the other man. He could read nothing in Christopher's expression. It was as it should be. 

"You will not be the end of us, Tom." Christopher pulled him up harshly by his hair and slammed his head back against the post. "We will survive." 

He paused smiling as he admired the indent of his ring on Tom's mouth. "The others will not be so lucky." Christopher held Tom firmly under his neck, choking him. He turned over his shoulder. 

"Leave us." 

"I do not have to leave." She spoke firmly, holding her ground. Tom did not look at her despite her best attempts to wish it so. "He is my son." 

"As you wish." Christopher released Tom's neck. "But I will not make it easier for him because you are present." 

"I would not expect that you do." 

Tom breathed deeply, surprised by Christopher's strength. Or perhaps it was his own weakness. Tom could not be sure. He felt himself slipping to the ground and he hung suspended by his restraints once again. 

"I thought you would be stronger." Christopher taunted him. "Maybe this weakness caused you to betray your own people for the humans." He punched Tom twice in succession hitting his abdomen and ribcage. Christopher squeezed Tom's face and pressed his body back against the post using himself as a fulcrum. He turned Tom's face up towards him and stroked his bruised jawline. 

Tom closed his eyes briefly but did not respond. His body stood immobile, pressed under the full weight of his attacker. Tom could feel the increased hardness of Christopher's body and realized the depth of his arousal. It sickened him. He pushed forward to tear himself away but Christopher pushed harder and ground into his pelvis. Tom felt himself stop breathing. 

Christopher felt himself loosing control. He looked at the sight of Tom's bruised lips and pained expression and felt himself stir wildly. He would have to ignore his desire for the glacial blue eyes and concentrate on the task at hand. Christopher had to break him and punish him for his indiscretion. 

Later he would kill him. 

It was a waste Christopher thought. This one was perfect. Large eyes, elegant bone structure, dark curly hair and the Tatoo that marked him as one of the chosen. What a beauty. What a disgrace. 

Christopher did not think twice before pounding into Tom's chest. He was rewarded with an expression that was both wary and contemptuous. Icy blue eyes tore into him and Christopher shuddered at their power. He snarled into Tom's face and struck him again. 

Tom groaned at the sound of his ribs cracking. Tears stung his eyes as the pain progressed. It wrapped tightly around him, cutting off his oxygen and tearing into his flesh and soul. He gazed at his chest and saw blood seeping from an barely visable protruding bone. He swallowed to avoid the nausea but it was no use. The bile rose in his throat and Tom vomited harshly, his body shuddering violently with every heave. 

Christopher watched him dispassionately, staring into Tom's face until the light faded out of the blue eyes and he fell forward. Christopher did not catch him. Tom's body slid down the length of the larger man, leaving a trail of smeared blood across his shirt. Christopher detached himself easily, allowing Tom to hang awkwardly in his restraints. 

"When he comes too...we'll question him more." Christopher shrugged. "Until then..." 

"Was that what you were doing to him? Questioning?" The woman's eyes blazed angrily beneath her calm exterior. "You could have killed him." 

"It's not time yet." He smiled and turned away from her, wondering if the enjoyment on his face would betray him. 

"Cut him down." She moved to block his exit. 

Christopher looked at her questioningly. Could this woman still feel something for her cowardly son? It was a possibility. You could never count on emotions. 

"No...he's still dangerous. Even this way." 

"Please." Firm but not pleading. 

"As you wish." 

Christopher untied Tom's bindings and lowered him to the floor. He lay as he fell, not moving. Christopher was curious to see if she would go to him but she did not. She stood in place staring at his inert form with no expression on her face. Satisfied, he left her. 

The woman stared at her son. She wanted to console him. She knew that she would not. Tom moaned and she felt herself start to cave. He wrapped his arms about himself for comfort. She pulled back, afraid that compassion would destroy her. He was her son. She steadied herself and turned away, fully aware that to leave him meant the end for both of them. His life and her soul. 

Tom awoke to pain and hunger. He opened his eyes and tried to lift himself. His chest stuck to the floor caked with blood from his earlier beating. He moved slowly trying to avoid the scalding agony his body felt but his mind sought to deny. Sitting up, he leaned against the wall. The trembling of his body frightened him. 

Tom breathed deeply, pain shooting through his chest like a dagger. Briefly he wondered if Sloan would ever know what happened to him. Would she even care? Sometimes he could almost forgive himself for assuming that she felt something for him. Sometimes. It was pretentious but he couldn't help himself. Why should she care about him? Sloan was an intelligent woman. Surely she knew how improbable a relationship between the two of them would be. He closed his eyes tightly. She mattered to him in ways he would not have thought possible only weeks ago. Now he would never see her again. Strange, suddenly, how sadness was no longer a foreign emotion. 

Tom turned in the darkness. He saw his mother's approach clearly and steadied himself for her arrival. Somehow he would find the strength to resist her. He swallowed hard and clutched his stomach when a sudden pain shot through him like lightening. Damn! Tom willed the trembling to subside and spoke to the darkness. 

"Why have you returned?" 

The silence did not bother him. He knew she would not speak immediately. His mother understood the power of silence. He would not placate her this time. 

"Show yourself." 

Even to his own ears, his voice sounded weak. Tom shuddered. His head throbbed mercilessly. Tom wrapped his arms across his chest. His skin, so heated earlier, now seemed clammy and cold. His fingers wrapped tighter, trailing red indentations across his pallid white skin. He held fast, refusing to be repelled by his own touch. 

Tom moved his hand to cover the wound in his side and turned to face his mother. His was out of breath and his head was on fire. Damn her for coming back so soon. For not giving him a chance to recover himself. He did not want to show her weakness and wondered why it mattered so much to him. Tom tried to stand but found his body useless to his commands. He could barely hold himself against the damp wall. In an instant he knew she was there. 

"Show yourself mother." Pain had a way of destroying his patience. 

She walked before him and knelt on the ground. 

"You do not look well." She admonished him gently, wiping a wiry strand of curly hair away from his eyes. She swept her hand across his chest and kept it there. 

Tom shook free and was rewarded with an explosion deep inside his head. When he opened his eyes, a spectrum of colors greeted him. They pounced on his thoughts and encircled every fiber of his being. He had never felt agony like this before. Flames everywhere and a pounding so vicious it overwhelmed him. Tom felt himself slipping away. He'd go anywhere as long as the colors disappeared for a little while. 

"Look at me Tom!" She held his face in her hands and patted his cheeks. 

"Close your eyes and open them very slowly. Then focus on me." 

Tom did not want to obey her but his choices were limited. He closed his eyes and hid in the blackness. Somewhere a voice called him. "Tom." 

He opened his eyes to her face and stared when he saw her. Tom moved forward into her arms and she held him firmly but with no tenderness. He inhaled the cool vapors of her perfume and nuzzled his face against her neck. He felt her hands upon him and he gasped when he realized what actions his body had taken. He didn't care. He wanted to stay forever with her. There was warmth here....And companionship. Tom breathed slowly, the pain in his ribs sharpening every gulp of air. He could feel her breasts against his chest and wrapped his arms around her tighter, pulling her closer against him. She murmured in his ear but he couldn't understand the words. Didn't want to understand them. Tom gasped when she kissed his shoulder, her lips warm on his icy flesh. His mouth found hers and he kissed her deeply. 

Her tongue invaded his mouth and she pushed against him digging her nails along the smooth expanse of his back. She felt for the Tatoo and massaged the slightly raised image. Beneath her he trembled. She felt his erection building and rubbed her body over his, completely transfixed by the look of him. 

"Tom..." 

He groaned. 

She wanted him like this. Hard and furious and completely out of control. His lips moved wordlessly as he moved against her. He would be angry she knew, when he regained himself. But she would not shoulder all the blame. She stroked him casually, unbothered by the torrent of emotions that crossed his expressive face and the pain filled and jumbled thoughts that betrayed him. She wanted him to suffer for what he had done to her, to all of them, but a part of her wished him clemency. He was her son. She pressed against him and pulled him up towards her. She willed him to release himself to her and he blindingly obliged, sobbing uncontrollably without tears against her chest as he did so. He didn't move for a long time. 

"It's okay Tom." She started to move away from him and felt him grip her tighter. 

"Don't...." He wasn't pleading but it was as near as he would come. 

"It's over." She moved away again and this time he let her. She felt cold suddenly without the warmth of his body. She was sure he felt the same way. 

"Take these.....for the pain." She pushed two small pills into his hand and folded his icy fingers around them. "They'll help you." 

Tom looked at her and she could tell that he didn't trust her. She felt a pang of regret that it had come to this. He nodded and closed his eyes. Her son looked cold and tired but worse than that he looked beaten. 

She slapped him hard across the face. He snapped to attention. His reaction was quick and it pleased her. She swallowed at the hatred in his pale eyes and stored it away. 

"Christopher will return Tom. He won't go easy on you. There's a lot you have to account for. Your actions are regrettably the reason for ..." 

"For my death sentence?" He threw the pills across the room. A spasm of pain shot through him and he sagged to the floor in a fetal position rocking himself back and forth. His mind flashed on Sloan and he buried the image. What would she think of all this? Him and his mother.... nearly intimate. He shuddered, feeling his mother's thoughts in his mind. 

"That woman cannot help you." She knelt by her son and kissed his cheek softly. "And she would not approve or understand about....us." 

Tom closed his eyes tightly. He wanted her to leave him alone. He did not trust his thoughts to her. 

"I'm leaving Tom.....until tomorrow." 

She watched him lying before her, his body shaking from both cold and pain. Soon he would pass out. It was inevitable. He couldn't possibly take any more of her. The thought of Christopher touching him again the way she knew he wanted to, angered her. Tom's lips looked blue and his teeth chattered. His hand moved away from the bare warmth of his body and reached out to her....To anyone to hold him. She looked at his fingers, pale and cold and took them in both of her hands. Damn him and damn her! She would not let Christopher have him. He was her son and by his death she would protect him one final time. She lay against Tom, cheek to cheek, until the shivering of his body quieted and sleep claimed him. 

Christopher paced. 

He had to gain control of himself. The woman was not the problem he had envisioned, but she was not the person causing Christopher to worry. He clenched his fists and slowly released. He was eager to begin questioning. 

Chosen one indeed. 

Tom had betrayed all of them. Obviously they had chosen unwisely. Christopher's mother had always regretted that her son had not been selected but he was more pragmatic than that. There was nothing Christopher could do about his past and the choices denied to him while another benefited, and then squandered all he was given. Christopher considered all these many times and was left without feelings of regret but instead filled with an anger that threatened to overwhelm him. 

Tom was beautiful, chosen and soon to be very dead. Christopher smiled his satisfaction. 

And still he paced. 

He sensed the woman's presence and beckoned her forward. In a second she was before him. 

"I can't let this happen. You cannot punish him this way." She spoke calmly. 

"What?" The shock on his face showed. Christopher had not expected this. 

"Don't touch him." 

"Have you lost your mind? How can you protect him?" He moved closer to her. "And don't say 'He's my son!'" 

She flinched but did not back away. 

"I want him killed but not tortured." She took a step backward, anticipating his response. 

"No." Christopher moved forward. "I will question him now." 

He thrust her aside. 

"Christopher!" 

He ignored her and kept walking. She tore at his arm stopping him. 

"Don't." She held firm. 

"Why?" Christopher tried to look through her. He succeeded. "You desire him." 

"Your own son." He sneered at her jarringly. 

She did not try to deny it. 

"You're speaking like a human. It is not so unusual among our people." 

Christopher sneered again and moved toward the cellar. 

She advanced toward him angrily. "He is my son and I will measure his punishment. While it may include death.....it does not include you." 

Christopher smiled calmly. An interesting turn of events to be sure. He definitely did not like them. The ignorant bitch. Did she actually think that their people would accept her rejection of what they ordained? He hated her more than ever for her stupidity. Christopher reached out and grabbed her harshly. 

"Your son will die tonight. The method and length of his death are my decision to make." He was gripping her harder than he intended. He thrust her away and she did not resist him. 

"Say your good-byes." Christopher admired her demeanor. If she had a weapon he would be dead where he was standing. 

She nodded. "As you wish." She walked away slowly. 

Christopher eyed her retreat. She had acquiesced too easily for his liking. 

When she saw Tom again he was standing although she did not know how he accomplished this task. Christopher had once again tied him to the wooden posts. His eyes were closed and even her less than quiet approach failed to revive him. 

She unclenched her fingers and stared at the small green pills creasing her palm. Suicide. She hated the word and all it implied. 

Tom stirred and opened his eyes. White-blue orbs centered coldly upon her. The woman shuddered but regained her composure quickly. 

"It doesn't have to be bad Tom." She showed him the pills. "Take these. It will be over quickly." 

She was rewarded with a look of revulsion so strong it nearly knocked her backwards. 

"Take them away from me." His voice was weak but focused. "I won't make it easy for you." 

She squeezed his face in her free hand. "For me? You think I'm doing this for me? I don't want to see you suffer. Christopher has ideas..." Her voice trailed away. "Don't be foolish. Take them." 

Tom swallowed dryly. In a very small, dark, part of his mind her words made sense and even somewhat appealed to him. But he would not die by his own hand. He was not that much of a martyr. "No." 

"Fool!" She hissed, throwing the pills across the room. She was angry with him and more so with herself. Dammit! She was his mother. 

Tom watched her warily, his eyes closing slightly. 

The woman knew it was taking most of his strength to keep them open. They were beautiful and she appreciated the gesture. 

She touched the curls that draped across the nape of his neck wrapping her finger in and out of the sweat dampened locks. She wanted to hold him tightly against her chest and caress his tired muscles. Her finger traced the bruised outline of his lips and he jumped slightly. She kissed his forehead and lingered there breathing in the scent of him. 

Tom trembled, his eyes never leaving her face. 

"As you wish." She touched his chest gently, frowning when she saw the exposed wound. "I cannot control Christopher. It is not my orders he is following." 

Tom nodded wearily wishing only that she would not walk away from him very soon. His eyes closed and he felt himself start to fall forward in his restraints. She held firm to him until she heard Christopher's approach. 

"We have to hurry. They have come for him." Christopher rushed forward taking her by the arm. "This pleasure will have to wait until a later date." 

The woman spun around for one last look at her son. Frantically she searched for the suicide pills. There was still time to end this quickly. 

A vision appeared to her. It was that scientist that Tom refused to kill--the one he cared about--and another man she did not recognize. She picked up the pills and held fast to them until Christopher knocked them from her. 

"Not that way for him." Christopher glared. 

She nodded curtly, fire in her eyes, and left the cellar. They met at the exit. The woman noted only that she was lovely and nothing else. 

"Don't get too attached." Bullseye. The look of horror on the younger woman's face was a small victory. The woman laughed. She could have Tom for today if she wished....but tomorrow would come soon enough. 
 

Sloan's eyes were upon him the moment she entered the room. He was tied shirtless to a post, his head hanging forward listlessly. He seemed to be having a tough time breathing. She stopped in her tracks and wondered how she would survive if he died. Stupid. Stupid for even thinking about caring for him when you know what he is....What he's capable of doing. Stupid for being so passionate about him after knowing him such a short time. It simply wasn't like her at all. 

Sloan breathed deeply and walked forward. When he raised his head to look at her Sloan picked up her pace. The blue of his eyes called to her. She felt herself drowning in their moisture. The feeling was not unpleasant. Tom needed her and that was exactly what she wanted. 

Sloan was near him in a second, holding his tired body against hers effortlessly even though he was completely immobile. The weight of him was a comfort...the warmth of his breath against her neck even more so. Tom was alive and breathing and near her and despite what that horrible woman said, Sloan was already "too attached" to let him go. 

"It's okay Tom. It's over." She stroked his back as he nuzzled her hair. "You're leaving with me." 

Sloan shuddered at his closeness and wondered not for the first time what it would be like to be with him. To feel him pressed against her, holding her. She closed her eyes tightly. It had been so damn long and she hadn't even kissed him. He had gotten to her more than anyone had in a long time. She desperately wanted him to survive. She needed it. 

"I have to show you something." Tom turned to face her and she felt her chest constrict. He looked so vulnerable. His expression mixed with pain and exhaustion. 

Sloan breathed deeply. His mouth was only inches away from hers. Sloan was sure he could hear the clamoring of her heart. 

"Tom?" 

He turned around and she saw the Tatoo on his back. It captivated her but she did not understand it's meaning. Sloan ran her fingers across the markings, the raised indentations causing her fingers to prickle. 

"What does it mean?" She asked him. 

"I don't know." Tom sagged forward. 

Sloan heard him groan and she lowered him to the ground gently, careful not to cause him anymore pain than was necessary. 

"Oh my god." She noticed the wound on his chest and turned away briefly. How could his own mother have done this to him? It frightened her more than any scientific data could have done. Definite proof of what horrors these people were capable of and what lengths they would go to for their survival. Sloan swallowed. There was no turning back now. 

Tom looked up into Sloan's face and stared at her. A part of him was unwilling to believe she was not a dream, an illusion created by his abused psyche.He closed his eyes tightly as a tremor of pain shot through his body and opened them just as quickly to verify that she would still be there. 

She was. 

Tom extended his hand and was pleased when he felt the warmth of her hand cover it. He felt her squeeze gently and he pulled her closer to him, the basic nearness of her body a comfort. He felt himself drifting. The darkness looked so inviting but Sloan was not in the darkness. Tom shook himself awake.. As long as he could see her, Tom would not falter. 

"Sleep if you want to Tom. I'm with you. Detective Peterson is outside." Sloan gently pushed back a stray lock of his hair. The curls fascinated her. His eyes beguiled her. Tom was so alive and so human---yet he was also something more. She couldn't define it in any certain terms but Sloan accepted it as surely as she accepted her feelings for him. She watched as he closed his eyes, feeling suddenly very alone. A moment later when his grip relaxed she was sure of only one thing. She loved him and she would protect him as he protected her. It did not matter if he didn't feel the same way. Sloan shook her head. Obsessions could be so confining. 

Ray Peterson helped Sloan maneuver Tom to his car. He could not help staring at his wounded passenger. Ray didn't want to anger Tom. He sure looked human enough. After a few miles he realized how ridiculous his fears had been. When he was awake, which was not much of the time, Tom only had eyes for Sloan. The way he stared at her made Ray uncomfortable. It was the depth of his gaze, Ray decided, and the icy blue color of his eyes. The bizarre way they seemed to drill into your very soul. Ray shuddered physically and Tom turned to him. Blue eyes on brown. Dumb move pal, Ray admonished himself as he looked away. The last thing he wanted was to direct Daniel's focus on himself yet that was exactly what he did. He glanced back at Tom. His gaze had not wavered. Ray turned his eyes back to the road. When he looked again five minutes later, Tom was sleeping soundly, his head against Sloan's shoulder. 

Next to him Sloan yawned and opened her eyes. 

"Waking up Doc?" Sloan smiled at him and Ray smiled in return. Next to her, Tom slept. 

"How's your shoulder?" Sloan reached for Tom's hand to check his pulse. He was still breathing strongly. 

"It's gonna be fine." Ray gestured to Tom. "I'm more worried about him. He needs a doctor Sloan." 

Sloan bit her lip to hold back tears. She knew Ray was right. Tom's injuries looked serious. 

"I know. But we can't let them find him." Sloan began frantically. 

"If they wanted to take him from us they could have done so before we left, Tom's safe. We're all safe for a while." Ray watched Sloan digest this information. Thank goodness she was an intelligent person. "I know an out of the way clinic up ahead. We'll stop there." 

Sloan nodded absently, her eyes never leaving Tom's face. "On one condition. They patch him up and he comes home with me." 

"Whatever you say Dr. Parker. Whatever you say." Ray continued driving. She's determined, he thought. Tom Daniels is a very lucky man. 

Trying to sit up was Tom's first mistake. 

His head throbbed menacingly and his insides pulled at him in three separate directions making it impossible for him to sit comfortably in one place, yet restricting his movements if he needed to switch positions. Tom chose to remain still. 

He looked around the room and did not recognize his surroundings. He felt weak and despised himself for the sensation. Tom heard a voice through the door and moved towards the sound. 

This was Tom's second mistake. 

A wave of nausea overcame him. It was strong enough to jerk him forward violently and strike his head back against the metallic headboard of the bed. 

"Ouch! That's got to hurt." 

Tom turned sharply towards the voice. Ray stood smiling in the doorway. 

"It's okay." Tom tried to swing his legs over the edge of the bed but ended up falling back and shuddering violently into his pillow. 

Ray approached him, a concerned look on his face. He touched Tom briefly on the arm and was surprised to find his skin hot. "You're burning up. I'm going to get Dr. Parker." 

Tom watched Ray leave and closed his eyes. Damn. He didn't have a shred of strength in his entire body. Steadying himself against the cool mattress, he took three deep breaths and sat up carefully. 

"You should be lying down." 

The man who entered the room was unfamiliar to Tom but he didn't sense any malice. He stared at the man hoping he would introduce himself first. He got his wish. 

"I'm Dr. Borlay. I'm Chief physician here at the clinic." He held out his hand and Tom stared. 

"Clinic?" He was starting to feel confused and confusion of any kind eventually led him to anger. 

"Your friends brought you in earlier. You're in bad shape Mr. Daniels. What happened?" Now it was Dr. Borlay's turn to stare and he accomplished it with an intensity that Tom would have envied if he had that emotion within him. 

"He was mugged." 

Tom and Dr. Borlay both turned as Sloan Parker entered. Her concerned expression touched him deeply. 

"We found him about a mile back." Sloan's green eyes pleaded understanding. 

"I'm with the F.B.I." Tom offered weakly, his eyes never leaving Sloan's face. 

The expression on Dr. Borlay's face changed immediately. 

"Oh....Sorry about that. On a case?" 

"Of sorts." Tom looked briefly at the doctor and then back to Sloan. She smiled at him reassuringly. 

"So what's the bad news Doc?" Ray looked grimly from the corridor and walked in slowly. 

"Well, Agent....?" The doctor started. 

"Daniels." Sloan replied a little too quickly. 

"Agent Daniels. Okay. You have two cracked ribs and one broken rib which lacerated your chest tissue. You're lucky it didn't pierce anything. I can't identify the drug in your system." 

"Can I go?" Tom moved to the edge of the bed. 

Bright lights. Searing agony. Tom didn't let the pain show. 

"Go? Are you crazy? I want to keep you here overnight at least. Maybe in the morning." 

"Doctor....I understand you wanting to help me. I appreciate it even, but I'm leaving now." Tom stood shakily. Ray moved over to support him. 

"It's against my better judgment. You can barely stand." 

"Yet I am standing." Tom reached for his sweater and winced in pain. Sloan noticed and closed her eyes. 

"Maybe the Doctor is right. It's only one night." Sloan noticed the ragged way he was breathing and the way he tried to hide his pain to make her feel secure. She touched his arm gently and his eyes followed her hand. Eyes so beautiful and searching they made her stomach leap in circles. When they returned to her face Sloan heard herself gasp slightly. 

"I don't think so Sloan. It might not be safe." Tom willed her to understand. He turned his expression to Ray. "They may still be out there and I'm not the only one they're after." 

Ray breathed deeply and stood in front of Sloan. 

"Tom's right. We have to leave." 

"The doctor doesn't think that Tom should be moved right now. I agree with him." Sloan stood firmly. 

"Do you both know Agent Daniels?" Doctor Borlay looked confused. 

"I told you. We found him along the road." Sloan replied, her eyes wide with concern. 

"Is that so?" 

"We bonded quickly." Ray offered. 

"Forget it." Dr. Borlay scribbled a prescription. "Not my business anyway. I don't want to prescribe anything too strong because I don't know what's inside you." He handed the paper to Tom. "These are very mild but they'll take the edge off." 

Tom nodded absently and finished dressing. 

Doctor Borlay opened a small cupboard and removed two tablets from a jar. 

"Take these now. There's water in the lobby." He offered the pills to Tom. 

Tom stared at the white capsules and thought of his mother. Suicide. It mattered little to her if he lived or died. She had offered to let him kill himself. He felt now as he had then, that she wanted him to take her up on the offer. Tom blinked and turned away. The depth of his emotions startled him although he wasn't really sure what he was feeling. Anger? Hatred? Sorrow? Could he be that unimportant to her? Did she feel that little for him? Perhaps it was as she had said, a way to make his death easier. It was possible that he would never know her true intentions. Tom looked back to see Sloan and Ray staring intently in his direction. 

"Tom? Take them. Trust me." Sloan took the pills from the doctor and folded them into Tom's hand. 

"I do." Tom closed his hand tighter and still Sloan did not let go. He stared at her hand on his for an eternity before nodding and swallowing the pills. Tom turned to move towards the door and found himself sitting on the floor. 

The doctor and Ray moved to aid him. Sloan was at his side first. 

"Whoa." Doctor Borlay looked concerned. "Be careful. Against my better judgment I'm letting you go. Don't make me regret my decision more than I already do." 

"I'm all right Doctor." Tom replied with more conviction in his voice than in his entire body. He shrugged Ray away from him and kept Sloan at arm's length. Her closeness zapped his concentration and he was going to need all of his senses if any of them were to survive this night. 

"I think we should go." Sloan spoke quietly, her eyes never leaving Tom's face. 

Tom didn't argue as Ray and Sloan led him to the waiting car. 

Sloan opened the back door and helped Tom inside. She crawled in after him as Ray shut the door. 

"Where to doc?" Ray asked unnecessarily. He knew exactly where she planned to take him-- and Ray wasn't happy about it in the least. He looked over his shoulder to offer another possibility but was stopped short by the image of Sloan cradling Tom's head on her lap as he slept. She stroked his hair gently, short curls running through her fingers, as she spoke to him in a light whisper. 

"It's going to be okay." 

Ray turned back to the road and decided to keep his opinion to himself. She wasn't going to listen to him anyway.

"Tom?" Sloan shook his arm briefly but Tom didn't stir. "Tom...wake up. We're here now." 

"Something wrong?" Ray stood near Sloan with the door open. Peering inside he noticed that Tom was still sleeping soundly. "Let me help you with that Dr. Parker." Ray grabbed Tom's arm and started to pull him out of the car. Tom groaned miserably and clutched his arm across his ribs. 

"I know it hurts pal but we really gotta move." Ray reached for Tom's other arm. He looked at Tom's pale face and nearly dropped him on the pavement. Blue eyes seemed to be staring right through him. Ray felt a cold sweat form on his brow and the tiny hairs stand up on his neck. This guy looks like he could kill me. He had never seen eyes so cold...so devoid of human expression. Tom Daniels was one dangerous character and they'd all be better off not forgeting that one simple fact. No matter what feelings Sloan had for him, Tom wasn't human and they coldn't make him so. Ray stopped as he felt Tom stiffen beneath him. 

"I can do this." Tom's voice sounded weak and small. 

"I'm sure you can....but why not let me help you?" Ray was surprised to see Tom smile briefly as his expression softened. 

"I appreciate it." Tom turned to Sloan. The way she was looking at him was baffling. He didn't have the strength to analyze the emotions he saw in her face. His head exploded and Tom leaned heavily against Ray's chest. The pounding submerged him, drowning him in its tumultous waves. Tom squeezed his eyes shut and moaned softly. Tom felt the bile rise in his throat. He shuddered and leaned over Ray to throw up heavily in the nearby curb. Tom trembled. He could not remember every feeling worse in his life. 

"I'm okay Sloan. I just need..." Tom was unable to finish as the blackness claimed him once again. His last conscious thoughts were of Sloan.
 

Ray could not remember how he managed to get Tom to Sloan's apartment. He would remember this night forever. Tom Daniels, new species, stronger and smarter than his human counterparts, lying helpless as a baby in his arms. When he lay Tom in Sloans bed, he curled up in a fetal position and didn't move. 

"Thank's Ray." Sloan spoke to him but didn't take her eyes away from Tom. 

"Maybe I should stay for awhile?" Ray offered. 

Sloan shook her head. "No...it'll be all right. I can handle it from here." 

Ray nodded. "You know where to reach me." 

When Ray left Sloan sat by Tom's bedside. The thought of him in her bed excited her. Not for the first time she thought what intimacy would be like with this man. She touched him tentatively and withdrew her hand when his movement surprised her. He nuzzled the pillow under his head and moaned. Sloan touched his chest and felt him tremble. 

"How difficult it must be being you." Sloan bent to kiss his cheek. She knew he couldn't feel it but somehow the simple contact strengthened her. She would not let them hurt him like this again. Sloan suddenly felt very small thinking how easy it would be for them to take him from her. She didn't know what kind of a future she had with him --- what kind of a future the entire human race had for that matter, but one thing was certain, her future included Tom Daniels. 

"Sleep Tom...it's going to be all right." Sloan dimmed the light and left the room without looking back. 

The End 

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