“Get me a bottle, diapers and a handful of Nyquil.” But hey, if it’s your period that’s making you cry, we can always get you tampons. “And food! Something with meat in it. And candy. Like... a lot.”
He wasn’t hungry.
Don’t care.
“I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” Alex muttered. He’d waited for her to go before he opened his mouth – she didn’t want to hear him and he wasn’t keen on chatting with her, either – so now I’m stuck with it. “Why don’t you talk to her? You’re having more luck than I am.”
Probably ‘cause I’m not whining about how mean she is every five minutes. I’m gonna put your hair in pigtails.
“I’m being serious. If you’re not watching my foot, handle her. There’s a noticeable lift in her fucking attitude whenever you step in.”
Punching Alex in the Face: I swear it’d end a war the way it brings people together. Twenty-four.
Alex sucked in a sharp breath that turned his entire body rigid. He let it out once the jolt passed, but he didn’t relax. The one bright spot in her stopping and wasting even more time was that he was able to keep his foot still. Outside of the short releases of control, it was dead and silent. Every muscle in his toes sat waiting for the first hint of permission to move, and he knew when they did, they’d strike up a fury of Hell through his leg, so he was grateful they were at one place long enough for him to lull his sizzling nerves to sleep.
“She should’ve eaten at the restaurant.” He could practically feel Xander hovering over his shoulder in there. “You’re not getting a ‘thank you’.”
Twenty-seven.
A few minutes passed as they sat they sat there. A few seconds after that and he got anxious.
“... How long is she gonna be in there?”
They haven’t done the transfer.
“You don’t know for sure.”
I do. Xander and his ‘theory’. It freaked Alex out when he tried to go over what the guy could’ve possibly pieced together to come up with it, but in light of this new pit stop, it was better than just crossing his fingers. Still... She’s probably gonna be a while.
“What? Why?”
Settle down. I’ll get her if she’s a twenty minute no-show but give her some time. Give her ‘time’? Unless you wanna hurry her along. Goodness knows you’ve been having oodles of luck so far.
That didn’t take Alex off the high-alert he was suddenly on. The quick call to attention in his mind went straight to his foot, too. A toe twitched or a piece of dust landed on it – didn’t matter – it was spasming and screaming and curling into itself –
Aaaaaand now we’re back to ten. Nice job. Maybe we should get you to a doctor.
“You think?”
You’re right. Dumb idea, Xander said. Eighteen.
Eight–
Stop moving your foot, he scolded. I’m tired. This has to pick up. I can’t keep babying you.
Alex couldn’t spare the breath he needed to point out the obvious in that one. Instead, through his panicking gasps, he shot out, ““Why is she going to be a while? What’s so hard about getting food and going the bathroom?”
I think she’s up to something else. She kind’f had an air around her...
“What sort of ‘air’?”
An ‘I’m up to something else’ one.
“That isn’t what I meant,” he snapped. “Is she trying to kill someone, is she trying to rob someone –”
I think the order in which you placed those is the most telling feature of your partnership with her.
Alex craned his next at the gas station. There was nothing special about it: big windows, chips and pop and all that other crap, a few other travellers crammed inside and a highway of cars storming the pumps on the side. The bathroom was inside of there and had to be off to the left because he didn’t see any sign of her and that was the only part of the small building without something to look through.
“Twenty minutes is too long,” he mumbled.
Give her ten to come back in view.
“Then what?”
You two can have another conversation, Xander said. If you’re bored of bringing up Rudy every other word, maybe you can lecture her on smoking this time. That’ll go over even better.
... That wasn’t a half-bad idea. He hated the smell.
And you blame me for not having friends.
“I had friends before you showed up,” Alex told him, settling into his seat. “Ten minutes. Then we go inside.”
* * *
Jason had a hard time getting them to the sick bay. The problem came from trying to decide who to take first. If he brought his target, he risked the shockingly rat-face pseudo-Agent waking up and running off to rub his target’s arrival in everyone’s face. If he brought Quin, however, it meant Gwendolyn Stewart, the entire reason their small team was here, would be left in the hallway to be found by a) someone random, b) Gary or another fool who’d go giddy over it, c) Alexander and whatever pile of Rescue Rangers he’d pulled together or d) his lead. That was by far at the bottom of his list of things that’d keep him alive until tomorrow, no matter what the hell had been going on, and although he was a little loathe to admit it, he was almost grateful she’d taken such an interest in Eric. With the A-1 up there, prowling around with a feast of cookies and whatever else in those eternal pockets, she’d be too distracted to leave his side and wander down here. In the face of that, he’d probably be in the clear.
Pros and cons. Gwendolyn Stewart was the flight risk but she’d have to stumble around for a minute or two before she realized the door was over there. It was still bright outside and that didn’t help, but although the bodies of the Agents Frenchie had quietly dispatched had vanished, the blood slicks hadn’t left. She could always slip on those, fall again and knock herself back out. If she was stupid enough to run around with Alexander... Quin was only a problem because Jason didn’t want his lead to know yet. If he woke up, he’d lose himself in the maze of this place looking for her and the clock of how long everyone had before some gigantic reaction let loose would immediately begin counting down. This needed to be broken to her gently. All that... crying... and the way she’d been acting... If they wanted her sanity intact, she’d have to be eased into everything until the transfer. He would show her Gwen was here, not report it and have her run down in a panic. Eric was right about that and Jason was not about to forget it.
All of this, however, was ignoring one obvious solution: that he take them at the same time. But he didn’t have a cart or anything and there was no way in hell he could care them both. He wasn’t that strong. He looked bigger than he was.
“Quin.” He nudged the little Agent with his foot. No reaction. “Quin!”
The longer Gwen stayed asleep, the better. They didn’t have any serious equipment – none he knew about – for handling her powers if she woke up. Another reason for him to tell his lead, but one thing at a time.
Okay. He was picking her up. She wasn’t too heavy in his arms but he’d never liked carrying anything, from a plate to a couch. This would’ve been a lot worse if she’d been struggling. Thanks for that, Quin, you target-swapping midget. And as for the midget...
* * *
This was the greatest day of his life and any past life he or anyone else on the planet could’ve had. Gary’s head was gonna explode and nobody, not even Diana, was going to take this moment away from him.
“I will find you those cookies,” he announced. “I will find them and I will wash them and I will paint them gold and I will stuff them down Jason’s throat the very second he tries weaselling out of it!”
AND HE WOULD. Both of them – Jason was crazy like that, always tryin’ to push that stuff off like he was too good for it and then diving at ‘em like they were crack the minute they were laid out, but if he tried running away because ‘I’m a professional, Gary!’, then Gary was grabbing ten boxes and making him eat every single one. That’s what Stephanie March wanted? That was what he would do!
“I’m loving the enthusiasm from this little corner!” OH MY GOD ERIC PATTEN WAS BACK. “I feel so pumped – and I don’t even know what you kids are talkin’ about! It’s great!”
“I ate your pocket cookie!”
Silence.
Long silence.
Even more silence after that.
There, in that hall, Gary stood face-to-face with Stephanie March and Eric Patten, and they said nothing. They said nothing! They stared at him and – ohgodohgod – oh shit, oh God – they probably thought he was so screwed in the head for even talking to them! Answering Stephanie March – Stephanie March! – after she finished telling him to do something was completely and totally different from taking one look at the A fucking 1 and screaming in his face that Gary just devoured the most precious gift he’d ever been given or would ever be given again in his life! Yeah, yeah, the wedding rings...
“Well...” ERIC PATTEN WAS TALKING OH GOD OH GOD WHAT WOULD HE SAY? “You were sort of supposed to.”
He was?
“And I did it with pride, sir!” Retroactively. “I am honoured to contribute anything and everything to further the mission of our great Agency!”
“I’m a second away from making this guy an A-2,” Eric said. And then he laughed – and it was the most glorious sound Gary had ever heard. He loved these people. He loved all of them. Jason was great and everything, but these people... How in hell could anyone not go bananas over getting to work with them? He’d give up his left eye if it meant he could join! Jason was so ungrateful. “To the cells? Benny and Xander – not a good mix. Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up.”
He was walking off. But... but he hadn’t said who he wanted to come with him. Well – Gary sure as fuck wasn’t passing this up! It was his life’s mission to get Stephanie those cookies, but if she’d be okay with waiting for just a minute more...
“Agent Stephanie March?” Her name! Her name had come out of his mouth and it was amazing! He felt like such a top employee! He should get pictures of this. He should get autographs! “I’m – definitely – don’t even think I’m not – ‘cause I will, I promise – but I want to – uh... see the jars... of people...”
“Everyone can see the jars of people! That’s what they’re there for! Party in the jar room, children!”
Gary could’ve collapsed, but that would’ve meant he couldn’t go see them. And Eric was already gone – disappeared, half-rushing to get wherever he was going – so it was him and Stephanie in the hall again.
“Agent Stephanie March,” he valiantly repeated, offering his arm to her. “I would be absolutely, exceptionally delighted if you’d let me escort you to the jar room. In case the hugs weren’t enough – and Jason would punch my face in if I said anything else. So would my wife. Can I walk with you?”
If she wanted him to crawl, he would crawl. Heck, he’d’ve let her ride on his back if it wasn’t so wonky every now and then.
* * *
“Just keep her contained,” Jason said, moving his hands around like the answer would magically pop out of his palms. “If she wakes up... drug her. Do whatever you can to keep her quiet and unfocused. The whole of her strength comes from concentrating. Keep that under control and you’ll be okay.”
“I’ve never done this before,” the A-8 said. “I didn’t even realize these people were real.”
“Tell me about it.” They’d done nothing but cause trouble for him. “But it can’t be too hard. Can you do this?”
The A-8 looked at his unconscious target, shrugged her shoulders, then pulled out a syringe.
“I’ll try.”
“Thanks. And – please, for everyone’s sake...” He limply waved at the bruises on her. “Could you...?”
“I’ll try.”
“Thanks,” he said again.
Now he was off to scrape the other lump off the ground, quickly leaving the too-white sick bay behind with nothing but heavy straps keeping his target chained to a bed. The little bastard better not’ve moved or – so help him – Jason would pound him into the ground.