This is a work of fan fiction. The characters of Tom, Lewis et al do not belong to me; I am just borrowing them from the wonderful show "Prey" that has captured my imagination. No infringement intended on the rights of Warner Brothers, ABC or the creators of the show.
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"Light Hits the Gloom"
by Dawn Colabatistto
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Chapter 1:
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Tom Daniels carefully steered his car down the dirt road. He had been rumbling along for nearly two hours now in an area of desert, which was very deliberately absent on any standard map.
It was close to three A.M. and yet he drove without the aid of headlights - a necessary precaution in this instance. He couldn't risk being detected anywhere near the facility to which he was headed. The light of the moon and his species' sensing capabilities had to suffice in guiding him.
Sensing a barrier up ahead, he stopped the car and got out to approach the obstacle on foot. It turned out to be a chain link fence with a large sign hanging from it, cautioning any person who had managed to stumble across this place to keep out. The smell of rust mingled with the dirt being blown about as the dominant gave only a dismissive glance toward the warning sign and easily hopped the fence.
Then Tom paused to look across the vast expanse of land in front of him. A five-mile trek would take him to his destination - one of the government's classified military compounds.
Reaching into his pocket he retrieved and donned a dark ski mask and then headed due north.
The bright lights of the military base came into view shortly enough. He had silently approached to within 100 yards when the faint telltale popping sounds of gunfire had him quickly crouching low to the ground.
The fire wasn't directed at him though. The source of the threat came from within the facility itself.
Shouts drifted toward him and were followed shortly by the wail of a siren.
"Right on time," he said quietly to himself and then took off.
Sprinting back some distance into the desert, Tom had just stopped to look back when an armored car came roaring through the south gate, far to the right of where he had been approaching the base.
He sunk to the ground again, seamlessly blending in with the desert night, and retrieved his gun to hold it low. He was here only to witness the event, not to aid or hinder, but he wanted to be prepared just in case he was exposed.
As Tom watched, two more military vehicles sped away from the compound in pursuit of the first.
It was a vain attempt. He knew they wouldn't catch it and he knew why.
Silently he counted down:
5
4
3
2
1 - And a rapid succession of explosions rocked the night.
The two vehicles involved in the chase went up in flames as well as several other locations within the facility itself - the weapons and transportation bunkers included.
Without any further interference, the now lone car disappeared into the desert heading south. Within fifteen minutes it would be well beyond the perimeter fence and Lewis would be free.
The retrieval team had done its job, cleanly and efficiently.
Tom straightened from his crouched position and dispassionately observed the chaos engulfing the compound. After a few minutes he turned and headed back to his own vehicle.
All he had to do now was wait. It would only be a matter of time before Lewis came rushing back into his life once again.
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Chapter 2
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Lewis held still as the female finished bandaging his arm, one of the more painful souvenirs from the week he had just spent as a prisoner. Sitting on the edge of the small bed, he ignored the curiosity and the warmer emotions flowing off of her and instead looked out the second floor window to the calming view of the countryside.
She was new in the Order and had probably never met someone in his position with the Council before.
Finishing up the bandage, she gave one last glance at his face and then turned to leave the room. She stepped aside to allow a young man entrance and then closed the door with a soft click.
Lewis leveled his gaze on the young boy, no older than 13, who stood with his hands dutifully clasped in front of him waiting patiently to be acknowledged.
"Yes, Andrew?" Lewis asked and rose to retrieve a clean shirt.
"Jonas is . . ."
"Yes, I know," he cut him off with a slight wave of his hand.
Lewis didn't need a messenger to inform him that the Councilman had arrived and was awaiting him downstairs, but his overbearing colleague had probably insisted on sending one up anyway.
"Tell him I'll be there in a moment."
Andrew simply nodded and left.
Contrary to what he had just told Andrew to relay, Lewis took his time buttoning up his shirt and grooming himself, knowing that every second in which he delayed that Jonas was getting more and more restless downstairs.
For as long as he'd known him, the dominant Councilman had never had any patience whatsoever. He was always demanding to see results prematurely or wanting to be briefed at the most inopportune times.
Now, he had traveled to see Lewis, just a day before he was scheduled to report to the Council anyway, because he couldn't wait even that long to personally hear what had happened with Tom Daniels.
Twenty minutes after Andrew had been sent up, Lewis left the bedroom and headed downstairs. When he entered the dining room, the gray haired Councilman was standing by the window with a slight scowl on his face. His suit and tie as well as long dark coat were in complete contrast to the casual jeans and untucked shirt that Lewis donned.
"Jonas, what a pleasant surprise," he greeted in a voice schooled to be respectful to those in positions of power.
It wasn't all feigned respect though.
Jonas may never be able to function in Lewis' position or even as one of his chameleon subordinates - he was too gruff and demanding - but he had other talents and abilities which allowed him to fulfill a different but just as important role.
Jonas had a penchant for seeing through all the bickering between the different factions of their society to point out what needed to be done and he possessed an amazing ability to get things accomplished on the Council.
To put it simply, Jonas was a brilliant politician. Lewis had to admire that, no matter how meddling or annoying he could be.
Pleasantries weren't something the Councilman wasted time on. Jonas gave only a nod in greeting and got straight to the heart of the matter he had come to discuss - Tom Daniels.
"He trapped you, Lewis?" he asked with a slight smile. The grin failed to reach his eyes though, revealing the fact that he didn't find it all that amusing.
Jonas walked around the table to eliminate any barrier between them and continued. "I know that we saw a great deal of potential in this one," he cocked his head, "but still I'm surprised."
"It wasn't Tom's intention to trap me," Lewis gave as partial explanation. "He was unaware of the humans. His senses were still reeling from having broken the programming."
Jonas' countenance darkened. "Then it was his intention to eliminate you."
"No," Lewis paused, suddenly unsure of how to explain the confrontation that had taken place outside of Whitney Laboratory. "He . . . chose not to kill me."
Jonas shifted his stance and narrowed his eyes.
In the long pause that followed, Lewis was distinctly aware that he was being evaluated and met the Councilman's intent gaze calmly.
Finally Jonas asked "Chose, Lewis?"
Lewis gave a slight nod. "Tom could have killed me and he didn't."
"Explain." Jonas demanded. "You tell me that he didn't intentionally trap you but he also had no intention of eliminating you. What exactly were his intentions, Lewis?" he said roughly.
The memory of Tom steadily training a gun on him filled his mind.
The message had been brutally clear.
His intentions were to let me know, in no uncertain terms, that he would no longer submit to me - that he was no longer my pupil, Lewis thought but didn't say out loud.
The conversation between them that night had been brief and to the point.
"It's over, Lewis," his protégé had distinctly informed him.
"You're going to kill me, Tom?" he'd thrown back almost as a challenge.
"No."
"Because you can't."
Tom had shaken his head slightly, almost chiding him. "Because I choose not to."
The truth of the statement had seared through him.
Tom had told Lewis before that he didn't need him and he had scoffed at the claim. It was in that moment outside of Whitney, as he had looked into the younger dominant's strong resolute face, that he had come to believe it.
Lewis blinked, banishing the all too vivid memory of their confrontation, to find the Councilman looking at him expectantly.
"He wanted to show me that he had broken the programming," he said slowly.
Jonas frowned. "Why try to utilize programming again anyway? He had proven once already that his will was strong enough to break it."
"Tom is under my authority. It was my decision to make." He said fiercely.
"It would seem that Thomas disagrees with that assessment," Jonas rebutted dryly.
Lewis ruthlessly suppressed the urge to lunge at the Councilman.
It was surprising - these unpleasant emotions that rumbled around in him from hearing from another what he had already acknowledged to himself. He paused, steadily breathing in and out as he digested that.
Tom had made his decision - he'd spared Sloan Parker and the reason for that was inconsequential. What mattered was that manipulation or programming wasn't going to change the path that Tom had chosen.
Once he thought he was adequately in control of himself, he continued the conversation.
"Tom allowed them to take me into custody because it removed me from the scene . . . it protected Parker and the others," he explained. "But Tom knows, as well as anyone in the Order, that I would be free within the week. He knew that I would be here, soon enough . . . reporting back to the Council everything that occurred - that I would report his decision."
"What are you implying, Lewis?" Jonas said impatiently.
Lewis continued slowly so that the impact of what he said next would be fully felt.
"He now knows that he is Chosen and he knows what responsibilities as well as what rights come along with that privilege."
Jonas tensed and his eyes seemed wild for a moment as the implications of that sunk in. Then he suddenly moved, turning his back on Lewis to go stand by the window.
"Huh," he chuckled and it was a harsh bitter sound. "Well, this is all very surprising. How did you deal with him all those years, Lewis?"
Jonas turned his head slightly to catch Lewis' eye without turning around. "He must have been a challenge. No wonder you're so attached."
Lewis didn't bother to accept or refute the statement. He simply waited while Jonas looked out the window. After a minute of silence, the Councilman finally turned to face him again.
"He's made his decision," he began gruffly. "Thomas has currently aligned himself with this small group of humans. It is for the Council to debate now on how it will be dealt with - as Chosen, he is entitled to such a courtesy. I will move your report up on the Council's agenda so that you address the Assembly first thing in the morning. Unless you object that is?"
"No objections."
"Good"
The Councilman then shrugged off his overcoat and draped it over a chair.
"Now that that is out of the way," Jonas' expression softened and he pulled back the chair at the head of the dining room table to sit down, "how is your new student? That young man I sent upstairs to retrieve you."
Lewis clasped his hands in front of him and responded mildly, "Andrew is adequate."
A slow smile spread across the other man's face. "That doesn't sound too promising, Lewis," the Councilman chided.
"It wasn't meant to be."
The amusement disappeared from the Councilman's expression. "I see," Jonas sighed and looked away. "That's too bad."
Leaning back in the chair he then said, "I'll be staying here until nightfall, but don't let me keep you from any of your duties."
That was all the dismissal he was going to get so Lewis nodded and turned to leave. He was in the doorway when Jonas halted him.
"Lewis," he said causing him to turn back. The Councilman had his eyes trained on the table in front of him.
In an uncharacteristically quiet and reflective tone he asked, "Thomas has never failed to live up to our every expectation and more, has he?"
"No," Lewis replied in a low voice.
"Well then," Jonas looked up and locked eyes with him, "speak eloquently tomorrow on his behalf."
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Chapter 3
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After months of endless debate and heated arguments, the Council had finally come to a decision regarding Tom Daniels. Now Lewis stood over the sleeping and bruised body of his former protégé waiting to deliver the message personally.
Lewis ran his eyes over Tom's nude form lying on the energy pallet and mentally catalogued every cut, every burn, any and all evidence of the treatment he'd endured due to the betrayal from his human "friends". The morning light from the window just above the bed, streamed over him, highlighting the signs of abuse for his perceptive gaze.
The Council had been informed the morning immediately after Tom's abduction but had procrastinated in doing anything about it. Fully confident that he would never break under the government's rather ignorant interrogation methods, they had been willing to leave him there for three long weeks as some sort of forced penance for his defection from the Order.
They apparently thought it would be a good learning experience for the young dominant.
Looking down at the beaten and ill treated body of his former pupil, the rage that had flooded Lewis when he'd first heard of the Council's decision to delay retrieval, came screaming back in all its intensity.
A termination order to eliminate a threat presented by another of their species was one thing, but to purposely allow one of their own - not a rogue, but a member of the Order - to remain in hostile human custody as a form of punishment, disgusted him. Every instinct screamed out in protest.
Not even Tom, as his enemy, had been willing to leave him caged and at the mercy of the humans. As he had made clear to Jonas so many months earlier, Tom knew that Lewis would be rescued shortly enough and had done nothing to interfere in that.
A week ago, the Councilman had made one of his personal visits to bluntly inform Lewis that the Council's decision about a delayed rescue had been a necessary compromise with those who were clamoring for Tom's head on a platter.
Finally though, at the end of three weeks, the authorization to retrieve Tom had been given, which was exactly what he had promptly accomplished last night.
Ironically, they had found Tom being held in the same military facility in which Lewis had spent a week in captivity. He had been unconscious, huddled in a cage deep within the compound, when they'd found him.
Lewis had made certain that they leveled the complex in their retreat this time. By now, rubble and dust would be the only remnants of the base and the humans who had participated in Tom's torture.
And now - now he was waiting for the chameleon to awaken so that he could be informed of the verdict brought down by the Council. Then it would be time for Tom to make a choice once again.
Lewis focused on Tom's face as he sensed his breathing pattern change slightly, signifying that he was coming around. But a moment later it abruptly changed again, leveling out.
Lewis looked on in what could only be described as fond amusement. Tom was completely awake and yet he remained still on the pallet, eyes closed.
It wasn't out of fear.
His former protégé was simply allowing his senses to assess his surroundings and more specifically to assess him.
Lewis didn't have to wait long before the younger man slightly turned his head and opened his eyes to look steadily and alertly into his own.
"Good morning, Tom," Lewis greeted pleasantly.
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Chapter 4
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The cool familiar signature of his former mentor slid over Tom: an ocean of calm, a wisp of amusement . . . and everything under tightly sealed control - Lewis was always in control.
How many times had he relied on that strength to steady him during training and even after?
Lewis had been the cornerstone of his life as a chameleon.
When Tom had drifted into consciousness, he had immediately been aware of the well-known presence near by. He'd had to resist the urge to tense and instead focused on breathing regularly and sensing his surroundings.
The last thing he remembered was the cage. The cage and the pain . . . pain much more intense than the times before - a new drug his captors were experimenting with. After three weeks, they were finally learning that traditional interrogation techniques were useless.
That last time, when the needle had slid home, it had felt like he was on fire . . . then as if someone had taken a blade of ice and was tearing him open from the top of his head to the soles of his feet.
They'd probably miscalculated the dosage - just like they seemed to miscalculate everything else about Tom and his kind - because he'd lost consciousness rather quickly. There hadn't even been time to really get into the barrage of questions that had become the daily routine.
Right now Tom felt rather numb and he was obviously no longer in the military compound.
He was in a small bedroom in a country house that he knew well - one of the few houses that the Order permanently kept - and currently staring into the gaze of the man who had been provider, father figure, teacher, and more for the greater part of his life.
Lewis had greeted him as if it was completely natural to be standing vigil over a man whom he had accused of betrayal.
Tom eased up into a sitting position and realized that he was naked and on an energy pallet. The smooth black bed was the only other item besides an old dresser in the small second floor room.
He clenched his jaw and blinked several times, the only outward evidence that he was steadying himself from the pounding in his head and the violent churning of his stomach.
Despite the presence of an enemy, Tom had to strain against the pull of the pallet, against the urge to lay back down and surrender to its warmth and promise of healing.
"You've only been sleeping for ten hours," his former trainer informed mildly. "You'll need another day or so to regain adequate strength."
Tom cast an inquiring look toward Lewis. It was . . . unusual . . . for him to offer such information to an enemy. And why had he been placed on the pallet anyway? Did they just want him coherent enough for an interrogation?
Tom titled his head and studied the older dominant, who remained passive and relaxed under the blatant scrutiny.
Finally he asked in a low voice, "Why am I here?"
"Would you have preferred to remain in that cage?" was the wry reply he received.
Frustration and anger coursed threw him, emotions that crashed out through his weakened shields before he could clamp them down. It was dangerous to broadcast his responses so freely to Lewis; it made a person vulnerable to manipulation.
Lewis ran cool eyes over him, assessing. When he returned his gaze to his face, his expression had changed minutely. Another person might not have noticed, but Tom had grown up under this man's tutelage.
There was a new hard glint in his eyes - all business.
"There have been no sanctioned attempts to eliminate you or Parker since last we spoke. Are you aware of that?"
A response really wasn't necessary. Of course Tom had noticed the lack of any chameleon assassination attempts.
Lynch, Kevin, Copeland . . . they were serious enough threats but they weren't ordered from the Council.
"Ah, Randall Lynch," Lewis said, easily picking up on the direction of his thoughts and making Tom realize that he was in even worse condition than he first thought. "How did the sensitive Dr. Parker react to that?"
"Lynch is dead," Tom replied dryly, "she reacted very well to that."
Lewis' lip curled up in an amused smile. If Tom didn't know any better he would've thought that the look in his eye was approval.
"You understand the reason why any action against you was temporarily suspended?" Lewis continued with the questioning.
Yes, he knew. The ill and dying Dr. Allen Copeland had confirmed not too long ago what he suspected.
"There's been a debate over my status," Tom answered quietly.
"As a right accorded to the Chosen, your actions have gone under review by the Council."
What that really meant was that the Order had let him live only because of the very slim chance that the Council might want him alive for some purpose.
Lewis still wasn't revealing anything he didn't already know.
"But now," Lewis continued solemnly, just as the thought passed, "that grace period is over. The Council has come to a decision."
Every muscle in Tom's body stilled as he sat looking up at Lewis from his position on the low pallet.
For months now, he had been waiting.
Ever since that night in the desert, when he'd covertly witnessed Lewis obtain his freedom, he had known that it was only a matter of time before the Council made a ruling regarding his fate.
A Chosen's right of appeal - something he hadn't even known he possessed until his mother had informed him of the significance of his tattoo - had bought him some time; a continuously shrinking safety net for him and Sloan.
Now apparently, it was time for him to finally pay the price for his defection.
Tom's body protested but for the most part he rose smoothly to a standing position. He fiercely determined that he wasn't going to be sitting at Lewis' feet when he heard what undoubtedly would be his death sentence.
He met Lewis' eye without apology and the only fear was for Sloan and whether or not they would make her pay the same price . . . whether the others would be able to protect her.
And then Lewis said, "The Council is offering you amnesty"
On to When Light Hits the Gloom - Part 2