The Game 33
Edited by Karen Leigh
Peter Caine had had this place staked out for a while - ever since Kermit had told him that Cory Raines had surfaced again. Now, it looked as though his patience had paid off.
He brought his heart rate back up, and began to come out of his meditation. Starting the car, he pulled out and began to follow the man he believed to be Cory.
He wondered for a minute who the other was that was following the pair, but then dismissed it. He'd soon find out.
Arriving at an all day diner, he watched as the men climbed out of the car. The one was definitely Cory, but the other? He had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach as he followed them into the restaurant,
As they sat down, he slid in beside Cory.
"Hi there, Cory, bet you never thought that you'd see me again?"
Tom stared at the newcomer in stunned surprise for a moment. Damn! A Dave clone. This whole thing kept getting stranger and stranger. He was so amazed to see a Dave look-a-like that the man's question took some time to sink into his brain.
"Cory?" He finally asked. "You're looking for Cory Raines?"
Dave studied the face of this stranger - a stranger with his face. Damn. Looked like Tom wasn't the only one with clones or twins or whatever wandering around. He cleared his throat, capturing the man's attention.
"This is Tom McLaren," he said quietly. "And I'm Dave Cameron. Who might you be?"
The widening of the stranger's eyes was almost comical when the man took a good look and realized that they were virtually twins.
He smiled grimly. "We do know Cory - but this is not him. There seems to be some kind of strange gathering of look-a-likes going on here in DC. Back at the compound, 9 out of 10 bodies have Tom - and Cory's - face attached."
Spike entered the diner and watched another man join the two at the table. Hanging back, he listened to the conversation, hoping that he might overhear something useful. Weirdly, this new bloke was the spit of the one with 'Cory'.
Great, thought Spike. This lot don't know what all the human Xerox's are all about either, so maybe they won't be suspicious of a few little questions.
He walked forward, and, putting a hand on the back of the bench seat, vaulted neatly over it to snuggle up to the other side of the man he now knew was 'Tom'.
Ruffling Tom's hair, he grinned broadly, and said, "Cory, me old mate. Good to see you after all these years. I heard you were in town... hoped I'd run into you."
Looking at the others, he raised his brows, and held out a hand to the man opposite. "Spike, at your service. Pleased to meet you, and your brother."
"My brother?" Peter Caine was the first to recover. "He's not my brother. I have no idea who he is. If you're looking for Cory, you'll have to wait in line"
Interesting, thought Spike. Copies of more people, and they haven't a bloody idea why, or even who.
Dave had taken Spike's hand, and shaken it in a bemused fashion. "Uh...pleased to meet you. This is Tom. Tom McLaren. He does look like Cory, doesn't he? We've got as many of these as you could possibly imagine, including Cory himself."
Spike turned to Tom, and snickered. "Come on, mate. You're pulling my leg. I don't care what you've told this lot, but I know an old friend when I see one." Elbowing him in the ribs, he added, "Couldn't be more than one of you, Cory. The world isn't big enough."
Tom smiled at the newcomer. "It's a little hard to take at first. I know I had trouble believing it. I know where Cory is, though. I can take you to him." He looked thoughtfully at Peter. "I can take you both to him. Okay?"
No, not bloody okay, thought Spike. You try and take me inside that place in a car, and there'll be a pretty Spike shaped hole in the back of it when I get clobbered by the fucking invisible brick wall. Shame. It would have been perfect.
Oddly, this Tom bloke even sounded like Cory, and a twinge of something that could have been pleasure tickled Spike's cold heart. He and Cory had had a lot of fun together, more than he was about to let on to Dru. More than he cared to remember himself, really. Cory had been around a bloody long time, and what he hadn't done wasn't worth doing. The bugger was persuasive, too.
Spike had been the first vampire he'd gotten to know. Cory had run across vampires before, and avoided them, or killed them. He and Dru hadn't given him and his mate Methos that option. Methos was a prat. No fun, and Spike would gladly have killed him, if he could have found a way to do it. But Cory was a good sport, and when they'd let him go, Spike had let him have Methos, too, thinking it might be an investment for a future meeting to keep Cory sweet.
Now look what's bloody happened! I run across the bugger again, and I get lumbered with Dru, and a dirty great conspiracy on the same damned night. Life used to be so much simpler, he thought.
Spike had been lonely since Drusilla dumped him. He missed her, he missed Angelus, and without his power to kill he'd lost any chance of respect from humans or vampires. Hearing Cory was around had cheered him up. He assumed he'd be able to take Cory's blood. He wasn't human... not really... and Cory didn't mind, it didn't harm him. He was a lot of fun, too, and none too particular about the law, and what was good and bad.
Now it seemed he was involved in some strange goings-on. Spike was pretty sure that Cory would fill him in, assuming he knew more than this lot in the diner that was.
Suddenly a clock caught his eye. Bugger... he'd been away from Dru for hours, and his even his princess had a limit to how long she could play in a bubble bath. She would be ravenous, too. He hoped she'd had the sense to eat out if she'd started without him, and not simply sent for room service. He'd got out of the habit of playing protector to her.
Spike smiled. "A whole heap of Corys, you say? Fancy that! Or a whole heap of Toms, if you want to put it another way. Well, I'd love to come, but I've got to run right now, the missus is waiting for me back at the hotel. Could you give him a message?"
He scribbled his mobile number, and the name of the hotel on a coaster and handed it to Tom. "Tell him to look me up. You know, it seems like a hundred years since I've seen him. Sorry about the mix-up. Oh, and tell him to bring along a few of his twins if he wants too. He knows me 'n Dru have a real appetite for new faces."
Tom watched, bemused, as the very odd man walked away. He squinted at the phone number on the piece of paper and then tucked it away into the pocket of his shirt.
"He's a little... ah, different, don't you think?"
Dave shrugged. "Compared to what? A whole compound full of you? The fact that we've now found a copy of me? Skip? Methos?"
"Well," Tom had to grin. "I guess you have a point there. So," he turned to look at the new guy - Peter. "What's up with you? I mean, why are you in town? You come here just to find Cory?"
Breakfast arrived, stalling any response Peter might have for the moment. The waitress did a double take once she took a good look at his face. "Um ... " She looked at Dave. "You want anything else? How about your brother? He want coffee or food or anything?"
Tom snickered.
Dave raised his brows at Peter. "Well, brother? You hungry?"
Spike pranced out of the diner and back to his car, delving into the boot for a shot of blood. Tom and the others had smelt fantastic, scrumptious, and his stomach was rumbling like the gates of Hell rolling open. Gulping it down, he considered what had happened. He knew he couldn't turn a blind eye to what was going on at that mysterious estate, much as he'd like to turn tail and run all the way back to Sunnydale. He thought about Dru's offer to rid him of the chip, too. Perhaps he didn't want his wild rose tearing his head open with her thorns, but it could be he could find a doctor to do it.
No point in sending for Drusilla now. If he couldn't get through the gates, neither would she, and at least a message was on its way to Cory.
He arrived back at the hotel with a little box full of trinkets for Dru and Samantha, and a pair of satin shoes that had caught his eye in a shop window full of wedding dresses and ball gowns. His princess had lovely feet, smooth and white, and after a century or two even the thickest bloke gets to know his lover's shoe size. These would set them off a treat. Creamy-white, with tiny crystals sewn on in the shape of hearts; even bloody Cinderella wouldn't turn her nose up, he thought.
"I'm home, my sweetness, my dangerous little dove, " he called, almost tripping over a body lying on the floor. "Good grief, Dru, you're getting resourceful." The chap on the floor wasn't in hotel livery, wasn't torn to bits, and, despite a certain pallor, wasn't even dead. "Who's this my love? Supper?"
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"Do you mind if I join you?" the stranger asked with a grin, setting down a tray laden with cappuccino and chocolate cake.
"Wh -- no. Please do." As this newest twin took a seat, Philip looked past him, only to see his earlier prospect heading for the door. Masking his disappointment with his most charming smile, he shook his head. "I don't mind at all."
JavaScript Mac had a lot of knowledge about two things: coffee, and computers. Specifically, the Web. And he had a natural curiosity about everything. Because of that, he soaked up tidbits of useless information like a sponge...
His factory-specified aptitudes were usually a good thing. Though one time he had gotten yelled at for getting coffee all over the keyboards... He preferred not to think about that.
"Caffe mocha, caffe latte, hazelnut, vanilla nut, Bokonon Blend, Java 27...chocolate raspberry?" he offered, sitting down at the table. "The chocolate coconut cake is pure guava," he said.
"Uh-huh," Philip muttered, staring at the array of cups and the slab of cake that filled most of a dinner plate. "Guava."
"Oh, I'm sorry," he added. "I don't mean that it's guava, I mean guava, like jive, like cool, man, you know?"
He picked up one of the cups of coffee and downed it, seemingly in a single gulp.
Philip smothered the little voice in his head that kept clamoring "Clean cups! Move down! Move down!", wondering why, instead of bolting for the door himself, he was nodding and starting to smile. It was intriguing. His face, his form, his voice, and yet...not. Oh, definitely not...
He took a guava out of his pocket. "Of course, I have the real thing here, as well. Mac Smith asked me for it... I ordered it online, naturally," he said smugly.
"Naturally." Whoever the hell Mac Smith was... "You wouldn't happen to have any Starbucks French roast in all that, would you...uh...?"
"Oh, my name's Java script, but you can just call me Jav. Like you're saying, "jive" if you're from South Carolina, you know? Cause I'm cool like that."
He grinned.
"Sure, I've got some Starbuck's French roast. It's one of the best, and you know I'd only serve the best..."
He handed a cup to his clone across the table, but he could tell he was human.
"What's your name? Where are you from?" He slammed down yet another cup of coffee.
"Philip Paget. I'm from Earth."
"Yeah? Me, too. Actually, you know I never met anyone from another planet. Isn't that strange?" A sarcastic grin appeared on his face.
"You sure?" Philip shot back. "And do you really want to sit here in the middle of...this...and talk about strange?" He sipped at the dark brew, murmuring "Anyway, I'm probably the last guy you should ask..." into his cup.
"Then again..." He went to take another cup of coffee.
As Jav reached for another cup, Philip grabbed and held his wrist, forcing him to look up with a puzzled expression. "What is all this, and why are we here?"
"All this? This is the mid-afternoon/evening buffet, man." He pulled his wrist free, finishing his bid for a third cup of coffee in as many minutes.
"What then -- the shuffleboard tournament? Come on, answer me."
He looked at Philip. "Why are we here? To serve mankind," he intoned with a wry grin, recalling the laugh he had shared with another Mac, about the old Twilight Zone or Outer Limits episode by that name he couldn't remember which.
"Oh... you mean, why are you here, meaning people," he laughed. "I suppose to pollute the atmosphere with fluorocarbons. The oceans with plastic soda pop rings. The earth with landfills. And to add insult to injury with deforestation."
Belatedly, Philip began to wonder if the coffee was drugged. It was the only conceivable explanation for why he could still be listening to this smirking nutcase with even this much equanimity. "You know what I mean. Fantasy Island, here, and all these..." he gestured curtly toward the rest of the room. "...us."
He blushed. "Oh. Why are we here. I might ask you the same thing, man. All I know is, I came to town, I met some other Macs, and then we were asked to come here. When we got here, we were told to stay for our own safety."
He shrugged. "The accommodations are nice, the people and other Macs are friendly, and the weather is fine. 'Sides, I got nothing better to do."
'Other Macs'...? What was that, another lame attempt at jive talking? The remark about being asked to come and stay in this place set off an immediate alarm, however (safety from what?!); but before he could address it, Jav had launched into another philosophical ramble.
"I have, though, wondered about the human clones. Why they're here, and all. So far, the one's I've talked to, all kind of... ended up in DC by coincidence, or Fate. What brings you here?"
That was it. He'd had way more than enough of being dicked around. "Look, Jav." He stressed the nickname contemptuously. "I've been on the road for almost a day and a half now, in the same clothes, which are about all I've got left. I'm tired, I'm confused, my dinner's gone cold, I need a shower and I'm getting a headache you wouldn't believe. Do not fuck with me."
Jav nodded. "Well, I may be able to help you with some of that..." Jav reached for the tray again, but this time taking a slice of the cake. He took a bite and ate it slowly, almost reverently.
"It's weird, man. It's like... some kind of energy source. You remember Atlantis? I don't think we have a crystal like that, though there are several interesting things in the research wing of the compound." He took several more bites of the delicious cake.
Philip continued to glare, measured breaths indicating the tight control he was trying to maintain. At that moment he was unsure which he wanted more, to reach across and ram a fist into that smug face, or pull it close and taste that chocolate-coated mouth... In the space between, he felt the certainty coiling through him again. "You're serious," he whispered.
"Oh, yeah," said Jav. "You don't know what the dark side is till you've been in there." He gave an involuntary shudder, and his face grew uncharacteristically sober for a moment.
"No shit. I could draw you a map." The expression that had come over the man's face told Philip that as unhinged as this experience had been so far, he hadn't heard the half of it yet...and that when he did, he wasn't going to like it. "If I thought you needed one," he added quietly. "All right. Go on."
He looked levelly at Philip. "You asked about the Mac 27's. The Macs were a project of a think tank that was swallowed up bas they realized we were...fully functional. Ah... you see..."
Jav shifted nervously in his chair. "I'm... we're not all... human?"
Philip's eyes narrowed. Had he been right, then? "What are you talking about? Some kind of genetics project?"
He grabbed another cup of coffee, and began. "This company, Innobotics, developed a robot, or rather a series of robots, whose brains in some cases had human ... parts. The later models. I'm one of them..."
He looked at Philip. The man seemed to be at least mildly interested...
A robot. A robot with pieces of a human brain. He felt a flash of anger at having been sucked in by this character's bullshit, but it faded even before it was fully formed. It was the truth. Even without the persuasive evidence all around him, he'd known it -- without understanding what it was he knew -- ever since he'd touched Jav's wrist. And it was clear that the...being...wasn't enjoying this. If it was a joke, it was on all of them.
"As first conceived, we were just machines, household and farm appliances, like a tractor or a Coffee mate. We were designed for different functions...of course, when the military found out about us, they saw all kinds of useful applications for such ... beings. Soldiers. And sending us to disarm bombs and missiles... jobs deemed too dangerous for humans."
The subtle play of emotion -- revulsion, fear, hatred -- across Jav's features, the inward look in his eyes as he revisited unwelcome memories, belied the matter-of-factness of his voice. He watched Jav toying idly with his fork, reducing the remains of the cake into a wasteland of sticky crumbs as he continued his recitation.
He took another coffee, downing it. "There are also clones, of a man named Alex Krycek. We were originally cloned from him, too. The latest models. Us. After the DoD took over Innobotics."
"You are one of these clones."
Philip went cold. Like innumerable other children, he'd fixed on inconsistencies and fantasized to himself about having been adopted, but it had only been a game. It hadn't been until he'd fallen ill, and his doctors had sought out medical records, made tests... Just to add a bit of icing to the diagnosis of inoperable cancer, he'd learned that he was definitely not the biological son of Richard and Estelle Paget of Belleville, NJ. They hadn't given him any explanation when he'd confronted them, just told him in no uncertain terms to let it alone... Was this what they'd been so afraid of?
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Wraith gravitated toward the most remote, least populated corner of the massive room and dropped heavily into a chair. He wanted to shut his eyes and rub at them but he didn't dare. Marita leaned over, stroking one hand through his hair, a supportive gesture that made him want to lean into the contact.
"This isn't working. We can't stay here." Wraith whispered quietly, all too aware of how impressive the Macs' audio sensors were. "These...people... aren't going to be any help for you, Marita. They're not listening to you, not giving you the control you deserve. If we stay here they're going to wipe us clean like they did with Hobbes."
"Lauren..." She petted at him, trying to steady him.
"You said you don't want to be controlled anymore." He glared at one of the units that dared to actually look their way then continued with his insistent murmur. "I'll be your soldier, Marita. I'll get you out of here and show you how to get access to what you need to take command. Anything in my memory storage you need... access to Mr. Hargreaves' private files. I can do that. I'm not supposed to be able to get at them, but I can. You just have to tell me what you want."
Marita looked at Wraith intently. "You.. would do that? Why?"
She had to ask him that question. Wraith gritted his teeth. "I don't... you're everything I... " Verbalizing his feelings wasn't something Wraith was very good at. "I don't know exactly why. I just know that when I look at you I feel like there's something more, something deeper than just memories... I have so few... memories I mean."
She couldn't help a bit of her old paranoia creeping in. But, she knew that she knew what she knew, had access to what she did, and was still alive due in no small measure to that same paranoia. He'd be her soldier... he seemed so sure, yet if he really remembered nothing... Still, the fact that he was willing to help must mean he remembered something. She'd seen flickers of it.
He closed the distance between them, almost resting his forehead against hers. "I will go anywhere you lead me, Marita. I don't have anything left but you. I can't trust anyone anymore. Dr. Sawyer did something to me; something she uploaded at our last meeting has contaminated me. Mr. Hargreaves has cut me loose. You tell me Innobotics and their partner companies can't be trusted. Hobbes doesn't remember me." The words were whispered against her skin.
Even now the faint perfume that clung to her made his head spin.
"It was still for a while, but they're stirring again, Marita. Plotting behind doors, I can almost hear it. We don't have much time."
"Well, whatever we do, we can't talk about it here." She looked around furtively. "Let's eat lunch, and then we can go out for a walk. Talk outside. Safer." She lowered her voice. "The auditory capabilities of the Mac 27s are virtually unsurpassed. Almost equal to that of a dog, and a little better in some lines. But, you know that as well as I."
She took another sip of her coffee, allowing her gaze to roam the faces in the cafeteria before inclining her head and leaning in close to Lauren, again excluding all others.
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Philip paused as an attractive blonde woman and another - clone? Mac? Jav couldn't tell. He got reads for both patterns. Perhaps he'd have to see One about repairing a possible malfunctioning sensor sometime...
Taking another deep swallow, Philip stared down into the now-tepid coffee. Realizing that this madness, though still mad, was real, was something he could deal with. Been there, been done by that. Okay. Clones. Why not? He willed himself into stillness, feeling Jav watching him intently. Without raising his eyes, he continued. "I'd been in Rome, visiting Isola Tiberia. From there I was supposed to be on my way to Epidauros, but while I was waiting for the plane to Athens I got this absolute conviction that I had to come here instead." He looked up. "So here I am. That's all I know."
Jav nodded. "I think," he said, "that I know how you feel."
"Maybe. But why shouldn't you -- we're related, right? I am you and you are me and we are all together..." He set his cup down with a decisive click. "But why are we all together? Why here, why now?"
He stared into his coffee cup. "Something is about to happen. I'm not sure what."
He looked at Philip with a flicker of a sly smile. "Have you gotten a room yet?" I don't have a roommate..."
The archness of the question, Jav's abrupt return to his earlier, taunting inflection, snapped Philip back from his tumultuous thoughts. "Why am I not surprised?" He replied with a wry grin.
Had he really just been propositioned by a robot? A robot that just emphasized their kinship? What would that be like, to...oh no. He needed sleep. Exhaustion was only adding to the unreliability of his judgment. He knew he couldn't afford that, and somehow he doubted that sharing accommodations with Jav under any circumstances would be conducive either to rest or to clear thinking.
Scraping back his chair, Philip got slowly to his feet. He passed a hand across his eyes and reached for his bag, swaying slightly as he straightened again. Jav was watching him closely, expression indecipherable. "I don't think..." He shook his head. "I've got to... Maybe later..."
The bustle of the corridor washed over him. Bumping into two more duplicates on their way into the dining room, he sagged against the wall. Trembling uncontrollably, he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a sudden cold sweat on suddenly feverish skin. His mind called out to his god, a plea for his master to take him up and help him understand what was happening...but it was so loud here...
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Jess took a deep breath. Baines had given her a lot of things to think about. She knew he was right that she'd have to face up to her past if she was ever to heal. But she wasn't looking forward to it.
She yawned, stretching slightly. She could sense Baines grappling with trying to tell Michael his feelings. Jess thought about giving him a mental nudge, but refrained. That relationship would blossom in its own time. Besides, with Baines preoccupied, it might be the perfect time for her to catch up on some of her lost sleep. Disposing of her tray and plates, she wandered out of the cafeteria.
She paused. There was a clone standing outside, one she hadn't met yet, and he did not look to be in a good way. Part of her urged her to ignore him and go get some sleep. But instead, she found herself walking over to him. "Hey," she called softly. "You alright?"
A quiet voice cut through the rush pounding in his ears. Not only not his, but female... "Lightheaded...for a minute," he rasped, squinting to look at her as she laid a supportive hand on his arm. The dark-haired young woman he saw surprised him. With his eyes closed, she'd felt...bigger, somehow.
"Was never like this," he went on, almost to himself, "not alone, never this strong..." He tried to smile reassuringly and pull himself together. Finally meet a good-looking woman in this madhouse, and it's got to be like this... " 'S'okay. I just need to...get someplace quiet. Sleep for a litt -- "
Gut-twisting nausea rode a sudden wave of vertigo, and he collapsed back against the wall again, gasping.
Methos was tired, and he wanted to go back to Anson and his comfortable bed so badly he could taste it. He strode up the corridor towards the back door, and felt a buzz as he passed the clone and the young woman - Jess wasn't it? - the one that had been a wolf the night before.
She seemed to be trying to talk to a very disoriented looking clone.
"Can I help?" He gasped a little as he felt a definite buzz coming from the clone who was leaning against the wall looking sick and a little dazed. "You look as if you need a little help, kid. Come on. We actually have a doctor here."
For just a moment, they were both touching him. It was almost more than he could bear. Then with a nod the woman withdrew, stroking down the length of his arm before ceding him to this newcomer and continuing on her way.
Philip flinched away from the man's hand, to no avail, feeling a jolt shoot along his jaw and through his skull as a light grip on his chin turned his face from side to side, and his brow was checked for fever. Pulling his head back as far as he could, he laboured to focus. There wasn't enough air, and sparks swirled through his vision as if thrown off by the bonfire of this man's life force. Dark, unruly hair, angular features...unfamiliar...compelling.
Methos shook his head. This wasn't an immortal, but it was...something. Something strange and new. Methos treasured new things. After 5000 years, there weren't many.
"Let's get you to the infirmary, shall we?" Putting an arm around the disoriented clone, Methos led him back, mentally sighing. His comfy bed, and Anson seemed further away than ever.
The contact was painful, dizzying. Belatedly, as if from a great distance, the man's words finally began to register, mingling with what Jav had told him. They were experiments...clones... Where was this -- what was he, he couldn't be human -- taking him...?!
Philip struggled, succeeding only in stumbling over his own feet and being drawn up closer against the dark man's side. He shuddered, moaning softly. Painful, yet to his already battered senses it was like warmed cognac after years of tepid water. Philip knew this, and he gave himself to it, allowing himself to be led.
Methos could tell that the man was suffering, but he had no way of knowing what was the problem. He could sense energy in him, roiling spikes of it, like, but unlike the quickening that animated him and his fellow immortals. Again he wondered what this man was.
"You're not the same as we are, are you?" he asked as he led Philip into the infirmary. "We've got a couple of casualties here already, but there's always room for one more."
The man had been speaking for a while, words he couldn't quite catch, and that he knew instinctively didn't matter in and of themselves. The soothing, bracing tone helped Philip concentrate on his next step, his next breath, even as their physical contact threatened to overload his nervous system and stop his racing heart. He hadn't been this close to death, this helplessly aroused, since that first night in the temple, when he'd learned what it was to be owned by a god...
They angled through a doorway, the man's arm firmly around his waist. Energies in distress snapped and clawed through air sharp with an unmistakable hospital smell. He balked, one part of his mind suddenly alert, and tried to articulate his resistance. Meeting the man's eyes, he saw interest, bewilderment. He knows. He feels it... 'Not like us...casualties' -- experiments. What was this, what were they going to do... Oh, god. He knows.
Pulled along into the room, Philip leaned against a cot, trying to stay on his feet. His vision was starting to tunnel, painting fractal trails as he looked around. Two occupied cots, the energies pulsing from them...muted, but still harsh, wounded. Flash of a woman's red hair, the thought that it ought to mean something to him... Dark, from the large man in one of the cots, a jangling chord of several sorts of pain that were beginning to subside into drugged and empty sleep...
What he felt from the other cot drew him, groping unsteadily hand-over-hand until he was beside it. Confusion, shame, terror...to his raw senses it was like the frantic fluttering of a trapped bird, and the pain... A woman looking out at him from a foggy-eyed male face, mutely questioning. This one. They would help each other.
Placing his hand lightly on the sufferer's abdomen, trying to calm his breathing, Philip felt the chaos that had been tearing at him begin to coalesce. Coils of sleek-scaled, phantom muscle rippled a heavy arabesque over his aching body, his skin tingling in their wake, making him a lens for their power. He almost sobbed in gratitude as he felt it move through him to the body beneath his hand, flowing over and into its wounds like water, holding him suspended until he was gathered in by the warm, comforting darkness...
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As they left the dining room, Baines could practically feel Michael seething with questions. He put a hand on his back and rubbed and said, "Let's go watch the sun rise and get some fresh air."
As they wandered the grounds finding a perfect vantage point to watch the rising sun, Michael started asking his questions. "Leigh, did...was..it sounded like you could read her mind. It sounded like she felt...heard us together last night?
Leigh pulled him close and said, "I can, she can, she did."
Michael blushed and Leigh smiled at him gently. So few people saw that particular smile and Michael was entranced.
"She didn't mean to or want to eavesdrop. It was my fault. I have no control over what I am broadcasting. Jess says she can teach me to block incoming and outgoing information." He wanted to say 'I love you' but this was so new and strange to him that he resisted the impulse, wishing for just a moment that he could read Michael as he read Jess; that Michael could hear him without him having to say the words aloud.
Michael realized that what Jess heard and felt was Leigh and for a moment he was jealous. Then he remembered her words, 'you are beautiful together'. Beautiful. Whatever Leigh was broadcasting was 'beautiful'? The hands on him were tender and the eyes said 'love'. He tried to bury himself in the other man holding tight. He breathed into Leigh's chest, "love you" but Baines did not hear.
The sun rise was a delight and the men basked in its beauty. They wandered together until spying a vehicle at the gates they moved to intercept its arrival. The doors opened and four Mac 27's climbed out. One reached in to help someone else. This one was a clone. A clone with the confused and worried expression that was all to commonly seen these days. Baines moved forward and stood as the man shook himself and looked around. "Hello, welcome. My name is Leigh Baines and this is Michael Tarleton." he held out his hand. Roy stared at the two men and then at the four androids. The sunlight accentuated their similarities. Automatically offering his own hand, he said, "Roy...Roy McIntyre." As the hand clasped his in comforting human seeming warmth, he asked. "Are you human?"
Leigh laughed, "Yes. Michael and I are human."
"Clones?" Roy asked.
"Yes, clones." Baines answered. "Come, you must be hungry and tired. I know you are confused. Let's get you something to eat and give you time to adjust." He turned to the four androids. "Have you been here before?"
One of them answered, "No. One told us to come."
Baines reached out and shook hands with all four and said, "Welcome, I am glad you managed to reach here safely. Come and have breakfast. One will find us or your brothers will take care of you."
With that the seven identical beings walked into the big house and headed to the dining room.
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