[fic] Second Time Around 7/33

[clayangel]

Title: Second Time Around
Author: Clay
Characters/Pairings: Ryan/Colin, various background pairings. Colin, Ryan, Jeff, Greg, Wayne, Dan, mentions of Chip.
Rating: Overall R, mostly for cursing and perhaps mild violence/gore, though most chapters are probably more a PG-13.
Summary: Whose Line is it Anyway? was the perfect cover, allowing Dan to successfully hide a team of psychic privateers from the world. For Colin, being recruited meant more than a job. It was safety, security, family. But soon that family starts to fall apart, and now Colin is plagued with dreams of fire, with a team that doesn't trust one another, and by a mysterious stone that could save them all...or destroy them.
A/N: As always, thank you to Lyndsey for the beta. :)



Chapter Seven:

"Man, that is sick. How did you do that?"

"I don’t like this, Dan-"

"Hey. Hey, can you hear me?"

I opened my eyes slowly, then immediately shut them again, nearly blinded by the overhead lights.

"Hey," came what I now recognized as Jeff’s voice. He sounded close. I cracked open one eye, and he slowly came into focus, leaning over me and blocking out most of the light. I opened my other eye and just stared at him, trying to remember where I was and what had happened.

"How are you feeling?" Jeff said, but I just shook my head.

Tilting my head to the side, I could see Dan and Ryan standing by the door. They were speaking too low for me to hear, but Ryan didn’t look happy. Turning to the other side, I could see Greg speaking animatedly with Wayne, who just looked smug-and it came back to me in a rush.

Sucking in a breath, I tried to sit up, but my body wasn’t responding properly. My muscles were sore from the fall and seemed reluctant to react, and it was only with Jeff’s help that I was able to sit up properly. Everyone stopped and looked at me.

"What-" I swallowed, only to find my throat was painfully dry. "What happened?"

Jeff opened his mouth, but it was Dan who came forward, saying, "You’ve just been part of our first on-premise experiment."

I looked up at him blankly, and he continued, "It’s a new weapon I’ve been training Wayne on. I've been looking into what else he might be able to do with the power of his voice." He held out a hand. I stared at it for a long moment before accepting his help.

Pulling me to my feet, he said, "It turns out he's quite good at knocking people out. For research purposes, you will need to tell precisely what you experienced, of co-"

But he never got to finish the sentiment, as the next moment I gave a primal scream and shoved him-hard. Taken off guard, Dan stumbled back, and I pressed forward until I had him slammed back against the wall, my hands fisted in his shirt. "What the fuck was that!?" I screamed. "I’m not your fucking guinea pig, you slimy, weasel-faced son of a-"

Colin.

A hand fell on my shoulder, giving it a sharp squeeze.

Get off him.

I had no plans to do any such thing and snarled into Dan’s face, curling my fists ever tighter in his shirt. There was fear in Dan’s mind, and his shock at my attack left him open enough for me to amplify it. I wanted to see him wet himself.

Colin, I’m serious, Ryan said. Jeff was on my other side now, and together, he and Ryan were attempting to pull me off Dan. You know what he can do to you.

Let him try! I snapped back at him.

"Come on, Colin," Jeff said suddenly. His voice was so soft and earnest that it startled me into loosening my grip. "You don’t want to do this. It’s not worth it."

I hesitated. Dan’s eyes were wide, bulging obscenely from their sockets. He was breathing rapidly, clutching at my wrists mindlessly. I supposed he’d had enough. Nodding slowly, I finally let him go. Quickly, Jeff and Ryan drew me back-not stopping until we were nearly across the room-as Wayne and Greg got in front of Dan.

Dan, for his part, had managed to keep his pants dry, much to my disappointment. He was pulling himself together. He managed to control his breathing and smoothed back his hair before straightening his shirt and looking down his nose at me as though I was nothing more than an ineffectual, misbehaving puppy-as though that hadn’t scared the ever living shit out of him.

I grinned.

"Well," he said, the sound coming out weak and cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes, I suppose that’ll do for now. We’ll just get your statement later, then, Colin, shall we? Yes. Well, let’s break for lunch and meet back here in exactly one hour. Wayne." He snapped his fingers, and Wayne was immediately at his side. "Walk with me."

They left together, and it was only after the door slammed shut that I found I could breathe again. I slumped hard against Jeff. Without the adrenaline rush to fuel me, my sore muscles were back to not wanting to work. Jeff propped me up, looking me over worriedly, and Ryan pulled back. He watched us for a second before letting out a sigh and marching out the door himself, followed quickly by Greg.

"Dude, that was kind of awesome," Jeff said, a small, proud smile slowly replacing his worried frown. "Dan looked like he was going to shit himself."

I chuckled weakly as I managed to pull away from Jeff and stand on my own two feet. I still felt sluggish and odd, though my response time was back to normal. I flexed my hand, studying it closely. "Yeah, that’s what I was going for." I looked back to Jeff. "What happened back there, anyway?"

"Well," Jeff put a hand on my back and nodded to the door. We started for the exit, and though I was a little slow, I was sure I didn’t need his help staying vertical, but I was grateful for the support nonetheless. "Dan took us in this room at the end of the hall-the one you guys were watching me from during my audition-and there was this table with some, like, T.V.s on it. He made us put on these headphones and then turned them on.

"You guys were standing there, and you looked like you were going to punch Wayne, and then he-" Jeff cut himself off, frowning, as we made it back into the hallway and shut the door behind us. He shook his head. "He, like, screamed. It was weird.

"It hurt my ears, and everyone but Dan, like, ripped the headphones off." He mimed it all as he explained. "And then we looked back, and you fucking dropped. Dan calls it Wayne’s Banshee Scream."

Listening to Jeff tell it was making me sick to my stomach. I watched him, feeling a dire sense of wrong about the whole thing, and Jeff only made it worse as he continued, "Dan said he has an idea about an attack for Greg, too."

"Another attack?" I didn’t like the sound of that at all. "What is he trying to do with us?"

"I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell not fucking with Wayne anymore."

I smiled weakly, but the joke gave me little solace, and it was with mounting concern that we ventured out to find food.

An hour later we were fed and calmed and I was finally feeling back to normal again. The group met up in the hallway, and we milled around as we waited for Dan to return. I hung around the outskirts of the group, like usual, but now Jeff was at my side, a protective arm around my shoulders. It was nice.

When Dan finally joined us, he merely sniffed loudly and looked us over with a disdainful eye. He was the last to come back-a full fifteen minutes late-and from the look on his face, I was sure that was somehow supposed to be a punishment, though with Dan, motives were never clear.

"Shall we continue with the tour?" he asked. No one said a word.

"Very well." Spinning on his heel, he entered the second of the training rooms.

One half of the room almost looked like a child’s playroom. It was filled with curved plastic tables and chairs-reminiscent of a play set I had when I was younger, though this was obviously built for adults. There were containers that seemed to hold nothing but pillows. Some were as small as marbles, others as large as bean bag chairs. There were blocks: plush ones, wooden ones and a few metal, also in varying sizes.

The other half of the room, in contrast, looked more like a mechanic’s shop. On that side, the tables and chairs were sturdier and appeared to be bolted to the floor. There were still containers of bits and pieces, but rather than cushions, these seemed to hold pad locks, radios, and something that looked like it could have been a car engine along with other unidentifiable electronic equipment.

"This room," Dan said, sweeping an arm around it, "is mostly for Jeff." He aimed a grand smile at Jeff, the most genuine I’d ever seen him produce. He beckoned Jeff forward, and, after a curious look at me, Jeff broke away from the group to heed Dan’s call.

Despite his earlier anger at the man on my behalf, there was no denying that Jeff was fascinated by the prospect of strengthening his powers, and he looked about the room with the wonder of a child on Christmas.

Dan pointed to the kiddy side of the room, telling Jeff, "Here you’ll be working on basic exercises. I know your powers are limited, so you’ll be building your strength. After that," he swung Jeff around to the mechanic side, "you’ll be toning your skills, working with finer details, and later I have exercises for yourself and Gregory together."

They shared a surprised look at that, but Dan was finished with this room and was already ushering us back out into the hall and over to the third training room.

He seemed far less enthused about this one and led us in with none of his previous pomp, simply saying, "And this room is geared more toward mental pursuits. In our case, things like telepathy and," he sighed, "empathy." He entered the room just enough to let us poke our heads in.

It was the smallest and, I had to admit, the least impressive of the three rooms. Honestly, it reminded me more of a school nurse’s room than a training room. There was a table and chairs on one side, with shelves alongside them housing books, puzzles, board games and other odds and ends. The other side had a few scattered chairs, a few rollaway, free standing curtains and a projector. Otherwise, it was bare.

"What’s that?" Greg asked, pointing to the back of the room.

Half hidden behind one of the curtains was a door. It was painted beige, like the rest of the room, and I’d completely missed it upon my original assessment. Looking to Dan curiously, I was surprised to see some actual emotion on his face.

He’d been standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting impatiently for us to be finished with the room so we could go, but now he relaxed, and he seemed oddly pleased. "That," he said, "is a dead room."

The sound of it alone sent a chill down my spine. We all had our eyes trained on the inconspicuous door now.

"What the fuck is a dead room?" Greg asked.

Dan smiled at him. "Would you like to find out?"

Greg shuffled back a step, and Dan actually laughed. "It’s nothing so sinister, I assure you." He looked back to the door, smiling as a father would at his child. "Think of it more as a Faraday Cage or a clean room. In a clean room, no outside contaminants can effect the work being done within.

"I won’t get too into the scientific details," he continued, crossing his hands behind his back and pacing slowly in front of us, "but what it amounts to is that, by using electromagnetic waves on a counter frequency, we’re able to neutralize any incoming psychic vibrations or attacks, so to speak."

"Why not just use bismuth, like in the weapons room?" Ryan said suddenly. He tended to keep his mouth shut and his ears open, and the fact that he was speaking up was a definite surprise. I looked at him curiously, but his face and mind remained as blank to me as ever.

"Very good question, Ryan," Dan said, grinning. "Yes, the bismuth would have the desired clean room effect, but I'm not just going for a clean room." He smiled a little dangerously. "Like I said from the beginning, I'm going for a dead room."

Not even Greg had a smart remark for that, and after a moment, Dan continued.

"Let's phrase it this way. Think of the bismuth as a shield. In comparison, the electromagnetic waves are more like a sword."

"Or a gun," I said as the image started to materialize in my mind. "You're trying to make a weapon."

"Honestly Colin," Dan said, rolling his eyes. "Must you be so over dramatic? As much as you'd like to make me out to be some evil villain, both your logic and the technology is all wrong."

I met his eyes squarely. "I never said you were evil. Guilty conscious?"

"No," he said, smirking. "Insubordinate employees." Turning away with yet another sigh, he concluded, "But as I was saying, that's not how the technology works. Strong enough waves would not only block your powers like a wall, but they would actually neutralize them." He smiled at us. "You would be literally powerless.

"Of course," he said, "without a constant pulse of these waves, the effect quickly vanishes, so a "gun" would be impractical at best, and likely impossible."

"But…" Greg said, drawing back again, "why would you want to neutralize our powers?"

"That’s simple," Dan replied. "For a detention chamber."

"We’re not children, Dan," Ryan put in quietly.

"No, but then I never said that it was going to be used on you, now did I?"

Ryan just raised his eyebrows curiously, watching as Dan continued, "While I do acknowledge that there has been a measure of insubordination as of late-" his eyes fell on me "-I have my sights set on higher goals than simple punishment." Dan wheeled on us, stopping his pacing in order to stare us down, one by one. "You must recognize the fact that we are not alone in this world. I assure you that I am not the first to organize and mobilize a psychic team, nor shall I be the last. It is high time that we learn to defend ourselves!"

Greg scoffed. "From who?"

Dan rounded on him. "Don’t be so naive, Gregory. Remember what happened to Tony." That had him blinking, then snapping his mouth shut, sufficiently cowed. No one else dared speak out after that, and, drawing himself up, Dan suddenly looked far more superior. "We're not alone, no; nor do you see the larger picture as I do. I have eyes and ears watching out for us at all times, and what’s more, I have the power to do something with the intelligence I collect."

Taking his eyes off Greg, Dan swept his gaze over the rest of us once more. "Enjoy this peace," he said, "for tomorrow we may be at war."

* * *

I lay my head against my arms, folded on the smooth plastic of the table, and watched Jeff‘s latest attempt to pick up a little cotton ball the size of a marble. It took about a minute before my eyes started to close.

"Hey, don’t bail on me now," Jeff muttered.

I cracked open one eye to see him concentrating hard on the little ball. It sat on the table, trembling somewhat, though it had yet to actually move.

"You could actually pick it up," I offered.

With a deep sigh, Jeff slammed his hands down on the table and snapped his head around to glare at me. The trembling stopped immediately. "Are you serious?"

Now I’d done it. I cringed and sat up properly. "No, sorry. Bad joke. Really bad joke. It’s just…we’ve been doing this for so long, and it’s kind of boring…?" Even though that last was said as quietly as possible, I still regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.

Jeff stared at me. "Boring?" he snapped. "Well I’m so sorry that helping me train isn’t some light and fucking magic show-" He picked up the ball and threw it as hard as he could. Its miniscule weight was no match for the friction in the air, however, and it went less than a foot before floating gently back down to the table.

We stared at the cotton ball. Jeff’s face dropped.

"You’re right," he said suddenly. "I’m a failure."

"Oh, no, Jeff-" I jerked my head up to look at him. He looked close to tears. I lifted my hands placatingly. "No, you’re not a failure…you’re just…a slow learner…?" I offered.

"It’s not like I’m not trying," he muttered, then with a sigh, dropped his own head to the tabletop.

It was true. By this point, we’d been at this for close to an hour, and it had to be twice as trying for him as it was for me. His hairline was damp with perspiration-a physical manifestation of his mental exertion.

After Dan’s tour we’d split into two groups. Ideally, Dan wanted me to help train Wayne further, but I flat out refused, and Ryan offered himself in my place. Dan took Greg to help instruct him on the weapon idea he had formulated for his power, leaving me to follow Jeff to his training room.

With a sigh, I stood and rounded the table to take a seat next to him. Laying a hand on his back, I rubbed it in small circles, saying, "Look, I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that." I plucked the ball from the table and offered it to him. "Want to give it another try?"

But Jeff just shook his head. Slowly he dragged himself up from the table, back into a proper sitting position. Prodding a number of the small balls he’d laid out on the table before training had begun, he said, "What do you think Dan meant by all that, anyway?"

I added my ball to the collection and frowned. "Meant by what?"

Jeff was frowning, too, his eyes still on the balls as he pushed them into a neat little line. "That whole ‘tomorrow we may be at war’ thing." He looked up at me. "Are we in danger?"

Snorting, I shook my head. "No," I told him. "Dan is neurotic. He thinks people are out to get him all the time. I wouldn’t worry about it."

"So, then..." Jeff said, watching me carefully, "what happened to Tony?"

I blanched, though I tried to cover it up with a smile. "Tony?"

"Yeah, Dan said-"

But I cut him off quickly, saying, "That was a long time ago. I wouldn't worry about it." Hurriedly I grabbed up a cotton ball and placed it before him. "Weren't we supposed to be getting back to training?"

For a long moment, Jeff watched me, his eyes narrowed. I continued to smile at him, my lips pressed together tightly, but I wasn't fooling him for a second, and we both knew it. Eventually he gave a small nod and turned away, choosing to let the matter drop for the time being.

I heaved a deep sigh of relief the moment he looked away. He'd have to find out about Tony eventually, but that day wasn't today. Jeff and I were really starting to feel like friends. I hadn't had a real friend since Chip, and I wasn't ready to risk scaring him away just yet.

We lapsed into silence then, with me forming little pictures out of the balls like connect the dot pictures on the table top as Jeff resumed staring at his chosen cotton ball. Even though we weren’t speaking, it was nice just to have someone there beside you.

After a few more minutes, Wayne poked his head in the room. "Hey, Colin?"

Both Jeff and I looked up to see him smiling at us. He seemed completely alone, and I frowned. "Where’s Ryan?"

"Huh?" Wayne looked behind him, then back to me. "Not here? Oh, he’s not blacked out on the floor, if that’s what you’re asking. We were with Dan and Greg, and speaking of which-" He whipped out a sheaf of small papers from behind his back. "Dan wanted to know-since you’re not doing anything-if you’d go pick up some sandwiches from that place down the street for everyone?" I realized that the papers comprised of a small list and a few bills. "We wrote down our orders already, and Dan‘s paying."

I could only stare at him for a moment. "You’re fucking kidding me. What am I, his errand boy?"

Wayne just shrugged and wiggled the bills at me.

With a sigh, I pushed back from the table, nodding. "Oh, fine why not." On my feet, I turned to Jeff. "What would you like?" But he was standing as well.

He shrugged and smiled. "I’ll just come with you."

I gave him a bemused smile. "What? No, I’ll be fine."

"Yeah," he agreed, "but you’ve been watching me stare at a cotton ball for over an hour. You deserve some help. And besides-" He was interrupted by a massive yawn, and he bent backward, cracking his back. "I need some fresh air and a Red Bull like no one’s business. Let’s get the fuck out of here."

Wayne frowned from the doorway. "Maybe you should stay here. Dan wants you training right now."

Jeff rolled his eyes as he crossed the room. He plucked the money from Wayne’s hands and brushed past him, myself in tow. "And what-are you his guard dog now?"

Wayne shot him a dark look, crossing his arms over his chest. "He’s not going to like this."

"Then don’t tell him!" Jeff called over his shoulder.

I had to admit that I was always pleased to see Wayne put in his place, and it pleased me further to see what a bad influence I was being on Jeff. I smothered a smile and clapped Wayne on the shoulder. "Look, if he asks, blame me. He’ll like that."

I could hear Jeff laughing from down the hall as I took off jogging after him

* * *

"Like mother’s milk," Jeff exclaimed, taking another huge swig of his Red Bull. He had another couple of cans shoved in the paper bag he was carrying. I just grinned, shaking my head as we made our way back to the office.

We’d gotten a full spread: chips and soda to go with the sandwiches, along with a bagged salad for those inclined and a box of donuts for desert. The sun was just setting, casting the city in a warm haze of orange and pink. I walked leisurely alongside Jeff, unable to keep a huge grin off my face.

"What?" Jeff said, finally catching sight of it.

At first I just smiled wider and shrugged, but he was relentless, poking me in the side and then threatening to dump his drink on me, and I finally gave in. "It’s just amazing," I said. "A few days ago I was freezing my ass off, trudging through the woods in the middle of East Bumblefuck with the Mounties after me, and now here I am in sunny L.A., toting around sandwiches with a kid addicted to caffeine. It’s like a different life."

"First off," Jeff said, poking me yet again, "I am not addicted. I’m appreciative. And second," he raised his eyes at me, "what the fuck were you guys doing in Canada and when can I get in on this shit?"

I had to laugh at that. I swerved, nudging him with my shoulder. "A couple days ago you were absolutely panicked when I mentioned the possibility of going to jail."

"That was a couple days ago!" Jeff argued. "This is today, and you have to tell me what went on up there."

The sun was barely peeking above the horizon now. We were well into March, and the days were growing longer, but it was still early enough in the season that, at barely six p.m., long shadows were draped across the sidewalk. I was just opening my mouth to start the story when one of those shadows crossed my path.

He was tall with broad shoulders and generally built like an ox, with his head ducked down as he marched resolutely toward us. There was something about the way he moved that drew my attention, though I couldn’t place exactly what that was at the time. He stood in the center of the sidewalk as he reached us, and without thinking, Jeff and I swerved to go around him, but at the last second, he sidestepped, blocking me. Jeff took two steps before he noticed my absense, then turned to face us and frowned.

Meanwhile, I had practically smacked into the guy. Chuckling nervously, I apologized and moved to go around him when once more he sidestepped. Finally, I looked to his face. He looked angry.

Frowning, I moved back now. Jeff was saying something, but I wasn’t listening. Every alarm in my body was going off; my blood was practically singing. Slowly, I swept my right leg behind me and bent my knees slightly, automatically falling into a fighting stance even as I asked, "Can I help you?"

But before the last word had even left my lips, he was rushing me. I threw the bag of sandwiches at his face, my entire body lurching forward. The movement put weight on my left foot, and I gave a small hop before sweeping my right leg back in a heel kick. Normally, this kind of kick would connect with the small of his back or somewhere thereabouts, but the sandwiches had barely slowed him down, and by the time my heel arrived, he was long gone. The kick met with nothing but air, but I'd been expecting that. I used the movement to spin 180 degrees, then fell back into my initial stance just in time to watch the ox swat the bag away, sending sandwiches scattering over the sidewalk.

I shifted my body to block Jeff and raised my arms. When the ox turned around to find me only a second later, I was already waiting for him. Before he’d finished the turn, I was moving again, stepping forward on my right foot and sinking my fist into the soft flesh of his stomach in a quick jab. He doubled over, and I reset, then stepped forward on my left leg, throwing all my weight into it as I brought up my right knee, driving it into his belly just below his ribcage, knocking the breath right out of him. He gasped desperately, and I put my whole body into shoving him down on the ground.

He stumbled to the side, however, smacking hard against the brick of the building we’d been passing and slumped against it in a crumpled heap, catching his breath.

"Who are you?" I demanded. "What do you want?"

But if I really thought he was going to sit around and answer questions, I had another thing coming. He was clambering back to his feet in a matter of seconds, and this time, I caught the sheen of a knife as he pulled it from his jacket.

"Fuck this," I muttered, rolling my eyes, and threw a blast of fear at him that should have had him frozen to the spot.

In a fight, you have to know how to counter your opponent’s move before he even knows which move he’s going to make. I’d gotten good at anticipating how the mind worked over the years. For instance, when I’d dodged around the man earlier, I knew he would turn to look for me, and since I’d moved off to his right, it was logical that he would turn right when he spun. I built my attack on that logic, and I hadn’t been disappointed.

The problem came in when I was done fighting. I fell back on my powers as a catch all, not worrying about what his next move might be because if the blast of fear I’d just sent at him worked, then his next move was either going to be standing completely still or running like a little girl.

I never anticipated that it might not work.

He never paused, never even flinched as he brought the knife high over his head. Startled, I back stepped, my eyes going round as he lurched to his feet, fury still raging in his eyes. I concentrated harder, putting my entire being into throwing that one emotion at him. He should have been scared-hell, he should have been a screaming mess, but instead, he rushed me, the knife flashing in the dying light as he sunk it into my flesh.

TBC