Author's Notes:

Walking An Endless Path: Part 2 is the continuation of a prequel trilogy for the Jack Danner Universe. Think hundreds of years before Jack finds his way into the Altarian Trade Commission waiting room.

But without this, he'd never get the chance.

-=-

This trilogy is dedicated to my brilliant and beautiful wife, whose support of my passion for writing and drive to keep me healthy keeps me balanced, productive, and happy.

I love you, lady!

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Walking An Endless Path: Part 2

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Chapter 1

Joe shuffled forward a few inches as airport security allowed a few more frustrated travelers to enter the inspection zone. This was the first time he'd ever been in an airport, and he was already convinced air travel wasn't worth the effort.

Adjusting the straps of his heavy backpack to a more comfortable position, he stole a glance over at his traveling companion. His main reason for making this trip. His sister Amy was the prettiest little thing, standing just under five foot two but perfection in every inch. Where she'd been robbed of height, she'd been doubly gifted in beauty. She had the warmest and bluest eyes he'd ever seen, and he swore they sparkled when she was really happy. She had fair, smooth skin with just a hint of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her slim, delicate nose. Combined with her slightly pointed ears and petite stature, some had suggested she had Fae blood in her heritage. Her lips had a natural upturn and often burst into a dazzling smile that took your breath away. She also had the softest blond hair that reached the middle of her back, now twisted into a single braid. Though she was tiny, she was perfectly proportioned with generous curves that had driven a number of the local boys to rash and lustful aggression. Too bad for them, her virtue was faithfully, and sometimes physically, guarded by her big brother.

Big was the first description anyone used for Joe. At six foot four, he towered over Amy, and his big frame carried the thick muscles he'd earned from years of physical labor on the family farm, his part-time job at the feed store moving heavy inventory, and his daily exercise regimen with free weights. Amy told him she was grateful he hadn't overdeveloped any of his muscles like some of those monstrously huge bodybuilders. His body, while long-limbed and broad of chest, remained proportional. His big hands and powerful arms, which felt clumsy when holding Amy's dainty hand as she crossed an icy driveway, were more at home slinging bales and carrying eighty-pound bags of feed between his fingers. While he wasn't aggressive by nature and avoided violence, he certainly had used his strength as a useful tool when dealing with bullies.

As well as their disparity in size, Joe's appearance was almost an inverse mirror to Amy's petite burst of sunshine. His hair was raven black and always neat and short. His skin had a healthy golden all-over tan, which didn't seem to fade, even during the long winter months, since his unfortunate over-use of a homemade tanning room. He had dark, chocolate-brown eyes and handsome features, so his looks got him more attention than he was comfortable with. Amy's beauty drew admiring glances, but she had less issue with this.

Their personalities were polar opposites as well. Amy was friendly, outgoing, passionate, and outspoken, while Joe was reserved, shy, and a man of few words. He preferred to stay in the background.

Joe glanced over at Amy again and noticed she was showing signs of exhaustion from their efforts just to get to this point. Because Glennville, North Dakota, was so far from Fargo, they'd left home early and endured hours of driving in their father's pickup until they finally reached the airport in the city. Amy shed a few tears against her father's chest, and Joe shook his strong hand before he drove away, unshed tears welling up in his eyes. Joe had seen them but kept that fact from Amy as he knew it would just make her sad.

They continued to shuffle forward as the security checkpoint slowly consumed the line. To ease her burden, Joe gently took Amy's heavy carry-on duffle from her shoulder and tucked it under his arm. Amy made to protest, but Joe's smile showed her he wouldn't listen to any arguments. She gave him a quick smile and touched his arm in thanks, filling him with contentment. Her eyes were tired and distracted as she looked at their tickets and boarding passes one more time as if to convince herself of the reality of their leaving everything behind.

They had no baggage other than her duffle and his backpack. All their necessary worldly possessions were in these two bags, just the clothes they needed and a few personal items. Amy was on her way to Hollywood to meet up with a woman, a noted star-maker she'd impressed with her performance during this past summer's Shakespeare in the Park. Amy's dream had always been to become a star in Hollywood. She was active in drama club throughout school (Joe built sets to be nearby) and was a natural on stage. Joe listened to her dreams for years, and when this opportunity presented itself, he ensured he'd be there to support her in any way she needed to make it happen.

They planned to travel together, but Joe had been in a serious car accident and needed time to recuperate, so Amy graciously delayed her departure until he was better. It had taken only two months for him to return to full health. He intended to make sure Amy made it there and was safe until she got the stardom she deserved so much. To reward her for her patience, Joe used some of the money he'd earned from his job to purchase two tickets to Los Angeles. He surprised her with the news he was ready to go and presented her with the tickets. Amy was stunned by his gift, and he cherished the memory of her tears and laughter when she fiercely hugged him.

While the trip's primary purpose was for Amy to find a career as an actress, Joe was following his own calling on this trip. He was traveling to Hollywood to attend a personal security training course. He intended on getting real training to do the job he'd done this past summer when he'd worked security for the Shakespeare in the Park troop. He'd had too many close calls as he had no idea how to do it right. With training, he could be proper security for Amy when she became famous.

Joe came out of his memories when it was their turn to enter the security checkpoint. Amy handed over their boarding passes and photo IDs, and they moved to the X-ray conveyor. Amy showed Joe where to put the bags and stepped through the metal detector arch. Lights blinked green, and she walked over to the conveyor to collect the bags. Joe stepped forward through the arch, turning his wide shoulders slightly to fit, and the machine made an awful squawk and blinked red.

"Sir, do you have anything in your pockets?" the guard asked, looking up at Joe's confused face.

"No sir," he answered.

"Please step back through the detector and walk through again."

Joe stepped back, and when he came through again, the machine squawked loudly once more.

The guard approached Joe with a strange, flat plastic wand. "Please stand with your arms out."

He did so, and the guard ran the device over Joe's arm but pulled it away when the device squealed shrilly the entire time it was over him. The guard asked him to roll back his sleeve, and he did so, but the wand still screeched over his bare arm. It didn't act like that when the guard ran it over his own arm, and he asked a colleague to switch devices with him.

Approaching Joe again with the new device, he tried running it over Joe's arm, but the screeching still happened. Next, he ran the wand over Joe's legs and torso, and the noise was constant.

Amy stepped forward to see what was happening, and the guard asked her to step back and wait at the end of the security area. He then asked Joe to follow him to a tall, clear booth at the side of the security zone. Joe kept glancing back to Amy to ensure she was waiting for him. She gave him a quick nod to indicate she understood.

The guard told Joe to enter the booth and face forward with his arms over his head as this was a body scanner. Joe did so, but the booth was very cramped, and his hands were against the ceiling. The machine made a little whirring sound, and a tall vertical bar went from left to right. As Joe started to step out of the booth on the opposite side, a female security agent was frowning and listening to an earpiece. She asked him to step back inside the machine so they could run it once again. He stepped back in place, and the machine whirred once more, followed by a series of loud crackles and a series of awful bangs. There was a large flash, and sparks exploded from the top and side of the booth. Joe stepped out of the machine quickly, unaware that the back of his shirt was on fire. An agent rushed forward and blasted his back with a fire extinguisher before moving on to the sparking machine.

Joe ripped the shirt off and tossed it on the floor, dismaying at the huge scorched hole in his favorite and only tailored shirt. Suddenly, he felt small hands touching his arm and the bare skin on his back and looked around to see Amy's frightened face as she looked for burns.

"Joe, thank god it only got your shirt!" she gasped. Then she pulled him into a big hug, her head on his bare chest.

A blush ran up Joe's face until he heard the female agent's voice behind Amy.

"Return to your bags. Now!"

No one spoke to Amy like that. Joe looked straight into the eyes of the agent and said, "I don't know what the point of setting me on fire was, but we're done here, right?"

Amy turned a worried gaze toward the agent.

When Joe was really angry, his eyes went completely black and cold. He wasn't consciously aware of it. The agent looked up into eyes the color of pitch, and her mouth went dry as she froze. A shiver ran down her spine, ending in an intimate place. Her face flushed as primal survival instinct washed away rational thought and years of trained response.

"Yes..." she breathed.

Joe blinked, and the whites of his eyes were back with their chocolate brown irises. No trace of the black remained. The agent just stood there and watched Joe walk Amy back to their bags. He dug into his backpack, pulled out a white t-shirt, and pulled it over his head. The fabric stretched tightly over his muscles, and the agent felt that strange thrill again. The agent struggled to regain her composure when they left the security area. She knew she should stop them, but when she tried to move toward him, her body wouldn't respond and shivered instead. Embarrassed, she looked down at the charred remains of the shirt and frowned. She used her pen to pick it up by the collar, carried it over to a workstation, and spread it out flat. A rough oval more than a foot across was burned out of the back of the shirt, but there had been no sign of any burns or blistering on the smooth skin of that young man's beautiful, broad, muscular back. She shivered again, then gave herself a shake. Pulling an evidence bag from a desk drawer, she used her pen to push the shirt inside the envelope and sealed it shut.

She had a call to make.

Chapter 2

NSA Agent Rachel White could feel the moment approaching. A moment years in the making that would get her out of this purgatory and set her career back on track. Those years had been put to very good use. Since her abrupt departure from the CIA and arrival at the NSA, she'd meticulously built a web of watchers: dock workers, police detectives, port and transit authority workers, and especially airline security agents with specific instructions to call in reports of anomalous activity. Now, her web was trembling with news that might bring her the evidence she needed to make those clowns at Langley eat their words.

She pushed her straight, shoulder-length black hair behind her ear and reviewed the details of the recent call. Her pale blue eyes drank in the details from her screen.

The subject was a Caucasian male, age twenty-one, named Joseph Neumann. He was tall and heavily muscled. Rachel's dark-tinted lips pinched with distaste. She preferred her men slim and lean. She found the subject's tall, muscle-bound body grotesque, like a big slab of meat.

Traveling with the subject was a petite Caucasian female, age eighteen, named Amy Lynn Neumann. Apparently not related to the subject by blood. According to her database, the subject was listed as adopted, but there was a definite lack of information on his birth parents. Rachel didn't like loose ends. She'd have to do more digging.

According to her agent's report, the subject came to their attention when he triggered the metal detector arch and even the wands, with no visible evidence to explain why. While this might have been due to medical plates and inserts, that would have required a significant amount of extensive surgery for that to be the reason. Her limited medical records for the Neumanns did not reference such work. No history of the surgeries required to explain these results could be found in nearby hospitals either.

The digital body scan file they managed to save before the machine malfunctioned so dramatically was... disturbing. Instead of a light gray negative image of the subject, his form appeared almost black, and only a faint, distorted outline showed against the usual black background of the picture. The right edge of the scan showed signal disruption, indicating the machine had begun to malfunction by the end of the scan. Again, there might have been a mundane reason for creating this image, such as the machine's impending failure, but combined with the metal detector anomaly, Rachel's gut told her differently.

Most damning, in Rachel's opinion, was the report that the subject's shirt had caught fire and burned extensively with no apparent injury to him. The shirt was being couriered to her for forensic analysis. Perhaps some form of accelerant and flame-retardant gel?

Or maybe it was the proof she was looking for.

Rachel accessed the security footage her agent forwarded her during the call. She played it at half speed and could see the body scanner explode in a blast of sparks. The subject stepped from the machine, and the back of his shirt was indeed ablaze. There was no indication that the subject was even aware of it until the agent with the extinguisher put out the fire. Only then did the subject react by tearing the shirt off and flinging it to the floor. The flames from the garment had been high and reached the height of his hairline. His hair should have been singed badly, but it appeared as if his hair was not affected at all.

The camera was not sharp enough or close enough to show much detail of the subject's back, but she'd expected to see something other than a smooth, unmarked surface.

She dug up the DMV photos of the two travelers and started a case file on her computer. She linked in the security footage, the body scan image, the recording of the call, and the DMV photos.

Rachel placed a call to the Los Angeles office to speak to her contact there. Agent Cooper and his partner Agent Ryan had previously worked with her, and she could count on their discretion. She heard the phone ringing.

"Agent Cooper," a bored male voice said.

"Agent Cooper, it's Agent White, Washington Bureau."

"Agent White, what can I do for you?" he said, life returning to his voice immediately.

"I have a couple of persons of interest in an investigation flying to your location this evening. I need you to pick them up and hold them for my arrival." She was going out on a limb to say there was an investigation, but even the activity in Fargo warranted these actions, in her opinion.

"We can do that," the voice said, and Rachel could hear his smile.

She forwarded along the DMV photos and flight details. "I've sent you their photos and their flight information. It is imperative that you detain them. The male suspect is very large and muscular, so exercise caution when approaching him. It's not clear how they escaped being detained in Fargo." She was concerned that this big brute might escape as he somehow did from her airport security agent. The woman had been unable to explain why the Neumanns had not been detained after this event. She almost seemed evasive about it. This made Rachel all the more suspicious. "He might be dangerous."

Agent Cooper just chuckled. She suddenly recalled that he had a predilection toward violence. She thought of the subject's brutish size and put her concerns out of her mind.

He came back on the line. "Okay. The photos have arrived with the flight details. Not to worry Agent White, Agent Ryan and I will collect your persons of interest at the airport and keep them there for you. See you soon." The phone went dead as he hung up.

She frowned at his rudeness, then put the phone down. She had to book a flight of her own to Los Angeles. It was time to go meet the Neumanns.

Chapter 3

Melissa Wilson was a damn good flight attendant. While she'd only been at it for five years, she was already a veteran of the air. During her brief years of service, she'd served pretty much every walk of life, from obnoxious drunks to charming royalty and obnoxious drunk royalty, for that matter. Amongst hundreds of uneventful flights, she'd accumulated some amazing experiences. She'd delivered a baby, talked down a suicidal teen who'd locked himself in the bathroom, and interrupted dozens of couples ranging from teens to octogenarians attempting to join the Mile High Club. She'd had an irate, self-important celebrity escorted from a plane by marshals for insisting he should be allowed to continue his online word game as they prepared for take-off. Not even surviving a bad belly landing with an emergency evacuation had turned her away from this job. All of these experiences, and she hadn't even turned twenty-six yet.

Her non-airline friends thought she was nuts, but she just loved her career. While there were a lot of similarities in the travelers she met, once in a while, there was a gem, someone to keep in touch with to expand her network of contacts, someone to meet for drinks or dinner during a layover, and sometimes, not very often, someone whose world she'd rock. It was the people who kept the career fresh for Melissa.

Her latest flight was to Los Angeles, and she'd take a little break there. Four weeks off, staying with her brother Doug in his huge Santa Monica beachfront condo. She hadn't seen him in a little over a year and was seriously looking forward to reconnecting with her big brother.

Melissa stood in the entranceway smiling and greeting, checking boarding passes as the already weary travelers shuffled past her, lugging their carry-on baggage. By her count, there were only two passengers unaccounted for. Probably stuck in security.

As she waited, she stepped back into the small galley and straightened her uniform. Sliding her hands down the soft fabric, she smoothed it over her curves. She killed in this uniform! Some airlines had the worst fashion design, but this uniform was sleek and flattering. Looking deceptively tight, the pencil skirt stretched, making her long legs seem longer and accentuating her hips and ass. The smart short jacket over a crisp white blouse presented the girls up and forward, and she could show as much or as little of them as she pleased with a few buttons popped or fastened. At six foot, she was one of the tallest flight attendants in this airline and always drew the eyes of the travelers, men and women. Melissa checked herself in a mirror, and her red hair hung straight down and curled in at her shoulders. She was a natural redhead but occasionally boosted the color to make it pop! She silently thanked the designer of the uniforms that they hadn't included one of those stupid little hats.

Hearing a light puffing, she glanced down and saw a slightly breathless but beautiful young woman step onto the plane, holding out two boarding passes. Behind her was a white wall with legs. It took a second for Melissa to register that the broad white expanse turning sideways and bending slightly was actually a man's wide t-shirt-covered chest. Glancing up at his face, she could see he was more than a little nervous stepping into the plane. Obviously, a first-timer. Suddenly, there didn't seem to be enough room in the aircraft entranceway as the man stepped forward behind the young woman.

Melissa broke her eyes away from the t-shirt-encased muscles and looked at the boarding passes. Premium Economy class, seats 7A and 7B at the bulkhead. Her section. She smiled and pointed them to the two seats against the window just down the first aisle. The hunk gave her a quick, nervous smile and followed his companion to their seats, squeezing down the aisle.

Signaling the captain that all passengers were present and accounted for, Melissa closed and sealed the door and walked down the aisle to check on her section. A quick headcount crosschecked with the other attendants confirmed they were good. Walking back to the front, Melissa noticed the hunk having difficulty with his seat. She stepped forward and raised the armrest between the two seats, giving him the extra room to sit comfortably and find the seatbelt. The young woman seemed fine with this arrangement, gave her a beautiful smile and thanked her.

The man still looked like he'd rather be anywhere else but on the plane. Not panicky, thank god, as someone of his size would be difficult to settle down. Just the same, she decided a little pep talk wouldn't hurt. "Hi, I'm Melissa. Is this your first time flying?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess it shows," he said, the nervous smile returning to his lips. "My name's Joe, and this is my sister Amy. We're both first-time flyers and... I'm... babbling," he stumbled to a halt, his face flushing. Amy just patted his arm and left her hand there. She smiled at Melissa, who could almost see the tension leaving Joe.

Learning the petite blonde was his sister brought Melissa another smile.

"If you need anything, just press the call button you see up there, and I'll come by. Okay?" she said.

She walked back to her seat and buckled in. Take off was routine, and her eyes kept returning to Joe, just as a courtesy to ensure he was doing okay, of course. She wasn't in any way ogling his broad shoulders and chest, strong arms and big hands, his powerful thighs... "God, is it getting hot in here?" she thought, feeling a little flushed.

Melissa looked across the cabin at her co-steward William, who spotted the red creeping up Melissa's face. He raised an eyebrow. Melissa fanned herself and grinned, subtly nodding in Joe's direction as she mouthed, "So HOT!"

William's view was currently obstructed from his side of the cabin, so he gave her a playful look of frustration. She and William went way back, and she considered him as good a friend as one could have in this business. She always enjoyed it when they got to work together. He was also a career attendant, so they shared that as well as a similar taste in men.

Once they were in the air and the seat belt sign was shut off, William quickly hustled to Melissa's side and glanced up the aisle. He did a double take when he saw Joe and promptly looked back at Melissa, his eyes wide and smiling. "I don't suppose you'd consider switching aisles with me?" he asked, knowing his request's futility.

"Pfft!" Melissa snorted. "Like that's gonna happen."

"Bitch!" William whispered as a smile crossed his lips.

They started their scheduled services and fell into their routine quickly. Melissa took every opportunity to stop by Joe and Amy to see how they were doing. While she quickly got the impression that Joe doted on his sister, Melissa subtly flirted with him to gauge if Amy was going to be the jealous type. Amy noticed Melissa's light touches on Joe's shoulder and arm and showed no possessiveness or jealousy. Melissa picked up the impression that she was being encouraged, as Amy seemed to enjoy Joe's flustered expression. This was good for Melissa.

Not long after she brought Amy a blanket, pillow, and sleep mask, the young woman fell asleep against the closed window blind. Joe just settled himself back as best he could in the tiny seat. His head was above the headrest, so he couldn't lean back. Melissa brought him a soda, and he was pleased to find out they were free. This gave Melissa a reason to periodically drop by and refill his cup, quietly chat with him, and get to know him better.

During these short visits, she learned why Joe and Amy were traveling to Los Angeles. When she discovered where Amy had booked their hotel, she realized it wasn't in the safest neighborhood. She said as much, but Joe indicated that's where Amy wanted them to be, so Melissa held her tongue.

A short while later, Joe must have felt the pressure from too many sodas in his bladder as he removed his seatbelt and walked to the washroom. Once it was his turn, he opened the door and stared in dismay at the tiny little room. He seemed unsure if he would fit inside, much less stand so close to the toilet and hit such a small target. Melissa joined him and touched his arm to get his attention.

"It's too small," he croaked.

"Are you claustrophobic?" Melissa asked.

"No, it's just a matter of the room's dimensions versus mine," he replied.

"Is there a particular dimension of yours which I should be concerned about?" she teased.

She could see the heat rising on his neck and face as he suddenly caught the innuendo in her remark. He glanced at her, and she smiled at his sweet, embarrassed expression. Oh, he was an innocent one, and it was delicious to play with him like this, but she wasn't cruel. She took his hand, guided him to first class, and indicated the washrooms had just a little more room, so maybe he would fit. He still looked nervous but entered and closed the door.

"Miss!" The word was spoken in an almost angry hiss. Melissa looked down to the first row of first class and saw the red face of an elderly woman shaking a bony pointed finger in the direction of the washroom.

"Miss! That is for the use of First Class only!" the woman hissed again. Melissa could hear the lady stress the significance.

Melissa leaned in close, invading the woman's personal space, and almost gagged on the overpowering reek of too much perfume. Forcing a look of concern on her face, Melissa whispered for only the woman to hear.

"I'm terribly sorry, but this is a medical emergency. None of the other washrooms are large enough to give him the room needed to direct his rather large penis at the bowl. He will be done soon. I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience."

The old woman gasped, and her eyes flew wide. Her whole body went rigid, and she stared at Melissa to see if she was kidding. Melissa maintained a false look of concern and just nodded. Soon, the woman stared at the bathroom wall like she was trying to see through it. Her mouth kept opening and closing like she wanted to say something, but her mind couldn't find the words. Melissa was having a terrible time suppressing her laughter, so she walked around the corner into the galley before silently losing it.

-=-

What Melissa didn't know was that Joe had almost that exact problem. With his back almost against the door, shoulders turned slightly towards the mirror, and knees bent to keep his head from hitting the ceiling, Joe had to use the mirror to see where his hands were on his zipper. He managed to get the button loose and the zipper down, sliding his pants and underwear below his hips to take hold of his now semi-erect cock. The pressure from his bladder, the odd position he had to hold himself in, and most of all, the frequent gentle touches from Melissa had triggered a poorly timed and impending rigidity. It was becoming increasingly difficult to point it downward, much less go. He pushed his knees closer together to be able to slide his pants further down so he had room to aim at the bowl, but that just put extra pressure on it. A few throbs later, the erection was complete! Damn! It was now impossible for him to pee, yet his bladder continued to demand release.

Suddenly, the plane violently bounced. Joe's head hit the ceiling, dazing him, and his feet slipped on the damp floor. Lurching back, he slammed against the door. His weight was too much for the tiny latch, which snapped, giving its life with a high-pitched PING! The door came off its track and swung open. Joe's pants fell, and he stumbled backward until his head and shoulders struck the opposite wall. He slid down the wall to the floor, tangled in his pants.

The washroom door now blocked the hall, so he was hidden from the eyes of the first-class passengers, but Melissa was standing at the entrance to the galley when Joe came crashing out, pants down around his knees.

"Joe! Are you okay?" she said as she knelt next to him.

Realizing he was sitting on the floor with his dick exposed, he froze as he looked into her eyes.

Melissa looked down and gasped. Directly in front of her was a very large and very hard erection. It may not have been the largest one she'd seen, but it was very nice. She wanted very much to reach out and touch it and maybe more, but that would likely have meant the end of her career as well.

Instead, Melissa tore her eyes away and looked Joe in the eye while she patted his hand. "You have to put that away now."

She stood back to give him room. Just as William scurried into the galley from the other aisle, Joe struggled to his feet. William gave a brief, high-pitched squeal when he saw what Joe was stuffing back into his pants. "Sorry!" William stage whispered, a little wild-eyed. Joe's bulge was very visible and showed no signs of diminishing.

"Did you... go?" Melissa asked?

Joe glanced at her nervously. "No, but now I can't, so I guess I'll just have to wait," he replied. He was so embarrassed. It felt like his face was on fire.

He closed the bathroom door as best he could and stepped down the aisle sideways. The old lady in the first seat suddenly grabbed a handful of the bulge in his pants. Her eyes shot wide open, then rolled back in her head as she fainted, trembling strongly.

"What the hell!" Joe yelled.

Melissa sighed as her little joke with the woman seemed to have backfired. She stepped forward, pried the woman's still clutching fingers from Joe, and gently pushed him towards his seat. "I'll take care of this, Joe. Please go back to your seat." She checked the woman's pulse and found it a little fast but steady. She would be fine. From her smile, she was probably better than fine.

Amy heard Joe's yelp and instantly awoke. Sliding the sleep mask to her forehead, she leaned over and saw him moving up the aisle towards her. She saw the embarrassment on his face as he looked down. She looked lower to see his hands trying unsuccessfully to hide a rather large bulge in his pants. Amy knew her brother was... gifted as she'd accidentally gotten a close-up view of Joe completely naked when she opened his tanning room door last winter.

However, she suddenly realized that she'd obviously never seen it when it was hard. Her face flushed a bright pink, and she quickly pulled the blanket over her face and leaned back against the pillow at the window, pretending to sleep.

Joe returned to his seat and was thankful that Amy was still asleep. He settled himself into his seat as carefully as possible to avoid disturbing her or crushing his still-swollen member. Now, he was doubly uncomfortable.

It wasn't much longer until they heard an announcement that they were thirty minutes out from Los Angeles, and it was time to prepare for landing. Amy sat up, and Joe noticed her face was a little pink.

"You overheating under that blanket, Amy?" he asked.

"Yeah, uh—I guess I was a little."

She handed him the blanket and pillow as she sat up. He set the pillow on his knees and folded the blanket. While he did this, she glanced down at his lap, and sure enough, the bulge was still there. Awkward! She pushed up the window blind and turned away to stare at the scenery below. Los Angeles was enormous, and she quickly became distracted by the view.

Melissa came by and collected the blanket and pillow. She really liked Joe and wanted to become more familiar with what was still obviously stretching out his jeans. She decided to try one more time.

"Amy?" she said.

Amy turned back from the window to see Melissa standing by their seats. "Yes?"

Melissa began her pitch. "Joe told me that you and he will be staying at the Clover Leaf Hotel near Compton?"

Amy glanced over at her brother, "Oh, did he."

Joe squirmed a little at her accusing tone.

"I'm not trying to interfere, but my family is from Los Angeles, so I know my way around this city. I could recommend a place that would be a little safer for out-of-towners. Maybe a lot safer."

Amy looked back at Melissa and saw the genuine concern in her eyes. "Sure. If you don't mind," she replied.

Melissa breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She smiled at Amy and Joe and said, "Great! Then I'll meet you at the baggage claim? You can get your suitcases, and we can find someplace to talk."

Joe said, "We only have our carry-on bags."

"Oh! You travel light! I like that!" she grinned at them both. "If you could just wait at the gate after everyone disembarks, I'll finish up and join you."

The landing went smoothly, and they waited in their seats until the plane was pretty much empty before they joined the stream of travelers walking out into the gate's waiting area.

By this point, Joe could no longer wait to use the washroom. He left his backpack with Amy and rushed to the men's room across the wide hall.

In his urgency, he didn't see the two men in suits follow him inside and close the bathroom door.

Chapter 4

Joe rushed into an empty stall and slid his jeans down his legs, finally freeing his erection. Now that the pressure of its tight confinement had been removed, Joe could feel it begin to relax. It was just a matter of waiting and thinking unsexy thoughts.

Soon enough, he had blissful relief. With a smile once again on his face, he dried himself off, tucked himself back in his jeans, and flushed. Heading to the sink, he noticed the two men standing at either end of the washroom. He looked away as making eye contact in a public bathroom in Los Angeles was probably just asking for trouble. He lathered up his hands, rinsed them clean, and shook off the water. As he turned away from the sink, he caught movement in the corner of his eye as one of the men approached him.

Joe saw something in the man's hand and pointed at him. Was that a gun?

Suddenly, he heard a loud pop as something struck his chest and became tangled in his t-shirt. There was a loud crackle, and the gun exploded in the attacker's hand with a massive flash.

The lights went out.

When Joe's eyes recovered from the burst, the dim light from the high windows on the back wall let him see the wreckage of his attacker's hand. Blood and bone had splattered them both, and the reek of burnt flesh made Joe gag. The man's eyes rolled up, and he collapsed to the floor at Joe's feet.

Joe was struck over the head from behind. He spun around and saw the next attacker drop a bent metal rod, a look of shock on his face. The man was stumbling back and grabbing at something inside his jacket. He began pulling his hand out, but Joe had no desire to find out what it was. He lunged forward and punched the man in the chest before he could get his hand free of his jacket. Joe heard the sharp crack of breaking bones as the assailant flew back to crash against the wall. He slumped to the floor and went still.

It was over.

Joe looked down at himself and saw little darts trapped in the fabric of his t-shirt. Thin wires trailed from the darts back to a chunk of burnt plastic behind him on the floor. A Taser? He'd been damn lucky it was faulty.

He tugged the darts from his shirt, which ripped holes in it. Considering the once-white shirt was now speckled with blood, he just pulled it over his head. He knelt down and tightly tied the shirt around the man's bloody hand as a rough bandage.

Glancing in the mirror, he saw his face and arms also had a few flecks of blood. Keeping an eye on the door, he splashed some water on himself and quickly scrubbed himself clean. He cleaned a few spots of blood from his jeans as well.

Grabbing some tiny paper towels, he dried himself as best he could. He looked down at the bent, telescoping metal rod he'd been struck with. Some kind of antenna, maybe? Seemed like a stupid thing to use as a weapon. He stepped over to the man lying crumpled against the wall. While he was wheezing slightly, he was breathing, so Joe left him as he was.

He stepped quickly over to the bathroom door and listened to hear if another attacker might be waiting outside. When all he heard were the noises from the terminal, he cautiously opened the door and peeked out. He spotted an out-of-service sign on the bathroom door. Sneaky!

People were hurrying toward the exit in the darkened corridor, and no one was looking in his direction. Joe slipped out the door and crossed over to where Amy was waiting with Melissa. As he moved toward them, he looked down the terminal hall and saw that all the lights were out, and the emergency lights were flickering oddly. Both women watched him approach and saw he was bare-chested with wet spots on his pants.

"What happened to you when the lights went out?" Melissa said with a sly grin, running her eyes over him appreciatively.

Joe glanced sharply at Melissa but realized she was just flirting. "I, uh, my shirt got snagged on something and tore, so I left it in there," Joe replied, not exactly lying. He wasn't sure if he should get Melissa involved in a mugging, and he sure didn't want to begin Amy's Hollywood dream sitting in some police station. He felt bad about walking away, but LA was a strange place, and right now, he really felt out of his element. Joe fished a black t-shirt from his backpack and squeezed himself into it.

"Can we leave now?" he asked.

They gathered their bags and joined the stream of travelers heading to the baggage area and the exits. Melissa suggested they grab a cab and head to a nice, quiet restaurant to discuss finding economical yet safe dwellings.

"MELISSA! MEL!" came a shout over the crowd near the exit.

Joe turned his head and spotted a man waving in their direction. While he was still a little shaken by the mugging in the washroom, Joe noted the waving man acted like he knew Melissa. He also noticed the man looked older than Melissa and was dressed like one of those models in the Tommy H ads he'd seen all the way through the terminal. Okay, maybe like the dad of one of those models.

Joe turned and tapped Melissa on the shoulder as she'd been deep in conversation with Amy and hadn't heard her name called. "There's a man over by the door who seems to be calling you," he said to her.

Melissa couldn't see over the crowd, so Joe led them through the exiting flow of people towards the waving man.

When they finally made it through, Melissa's face lit up. "Doug! I wasn't expecting you to pick me up!" She gave him a big hug and turned back to the siblings. "Joe, Amy, I'd like to introduce you to my big brother, Doug."

Smiles and handshakes were exchanged, and Doug turned to his sister. "It's a good thing I did decide to pick you up. The airport's power just went out, and getting a taxi in this mess would be impossible. Even the rental desks are shut down. I'm hoping the parking lot has power so I can get out."

Melissa explained that they planned to head out to dinner. Doug insisted they join him for dinner at his condo. After a few rounds of we couldn't impose, and you really aren't, I'd be delighted, they agreed it was their best option. Joe just wanted to get Amy away from the trouble he'd left back in the washroom.

They crossed over to the parking structure and found Doug's car. Luckily, he'd driven his luxury SUV, so there was room for the bags and the two extra passengers, even for someone as large as Joe.

As they made their way down the ramps, the building's lights came back on, and they only had to wait an additional twenty minutes for the backlog of cars to make it through the exit gate. Soon, they were driving toward Santa Monica.

Joe relaxed back in the plush seat and smiled at his sister. They'd made it!

Chapter 5

LAX buzzed like an angry hornet's nest. The night shift cleaning crew started their rounds roughly an hour after the power returned. One of the maintenance staff noticed the out-of-order sign on the washroom door. He went inside and found the two injured men. He immediately contacted security, who brought in the police and an ambulance. When it was determined that the two men worked for the NSA, there was an immediate lockdown of the area, and NSA officials were called in.

The press, who'd arrived to investigate the mysterious power outage, now had a much bigger story to report if they could only get someone to talk.

NSA branch director Roger Bannon pushed through the press mob, ignoring their shouted questions. When he'd been told that two agents from his office had been found badly injured in a washroom of LAX, he'd immediately placed the entire office on alert. He left the meeting he'd been in and was driven to the scene. Along the way, he'd received updates as they were confirmed. When he'd learned the names of the two agents, his initial concern was tempered with doubt. He knew Agents Cooper and Ryan mostly by reputation; none of it was particularly flattering. They had a history of abusing their authority and, in Cooper's case, overzealous use of violence. They'd been hires of the previous branch director, and Bannon had them on his list to be terminated. He didn't need that kind of agent on his team.

He asked for details on their current assignments and why they'd been at the airport. Nothing in their caseload explained why they'd left the office that afternoon, though there had been an incoming call from the Washington branch to Agent Cooper shortly before they headed off to the airport. Just before he left the car and headed inside the terminal, Bannon asked for a trace back to the originating caller.

Bannon saw the forensic team was on the scene and stopped at the washroom's doorway. He caught the eye of the team lead, Bill Ferris, who walked over to speak with him. They'd known each other for years, and both men appreciated cutting through the crap to get to the base facts.

"Hi, Bill. What's the news on Cooper and Ryan?" he asked.

"Hey, Roger. Both men are alive and in stable condition, last I heard... though Cooper is missing the first two fingers and a piece of his thumb on his right hand, which is also extensively burned. He might have bled out, but he was found with a rough tourniquet tied very tightly around his hand. Ryan's chest is a mess. Looked like someone hit him with a battering ram. We think he must have been pulling his gun when he was hit, as the barrel was actually jammed between his ribs sideways. Any idea on what they were doing here?" Bill raised an eyebrow when he asked his question, as they both knew there might have been some unofficial activity going down with these two.

"Nothing in their caseload to explain the visit, but I'm waiting on a trace on a call from someone at the Washington Bureau. They may have been directed to be here outside of regular channels." Bannon looked at the scorch marks on the floor and ceiling and looked back at Bill. "Any idea on what went down here?"

"Well, we found the remains of what might be a stun gun, but as you can see from the marks on the ceiling and floor, we believe it exploded, causing a major electromagnetic pulse. To release that much energy, it couldn't have been standard issue. There must have been some modifications, but we haven't found anything yet. I don't know the specifics yet, but we're working on the remains of the weapon." Bill indicated his team, who were carefully picking up debris from the floor and bagging what they found. "Cooper must have been holding the weapon and fired it. The darts had been deployed, but the only trace on the darts were fibers from the cotton t-shirt we found wrapped around Cooper's mutilated hand. Someone, possibly the target, took the time to bandage Cooper's hand with the t-shirt and subsequently saved his life."

Bill continued, "As most of the terminal's power and security lines run through the conduit space just above this ceiling, they got hit with the EMP blast. This knocked out the lights, backup system, and, unfortunately, the security systems, including the cameras. We have no footage from just before the power failure to forty-five minutes afterward."

"There's something else weird." Bill picked up a large evidence bag and showed it to Roger. "This is a police, standard issue expanding baton. As you can see, it has a significant bend, so the baton was used to strike someone or something. So far, we don't believe this was used on Ryan, as none of his injuries show marks from such a narrow surface. None of the surfaces in the washroom, sinks, toilets, stalls, or walls show marks that might explain this damage. From where we found it on the floor, we think Ryan might have been holding it. If it was used on a person, I highly doubt they'd be in any condition to walk away. There's some trace stuck in one of the expanding joints, so we're taking that back to the lab for analysis. So far, that's all we've been able to piece together."

"Thanks, Bill." Bannon gave him a nod and let him return to his team. He felt his phone buzz, so he pulled it out and read the text. "Call to Agent Cooper routed back to the office of Agent Rachel White."

"Damn. Agent White," he growled to himself. His contacts in the Washington office kept him abreast of the movers and shakers at headquarters, and Rachel White was certainly generating a reputation. After transferring from the CIA, she quickly rose through the ranks as a brilliant, if difficult, agent. This rise was often at the expense of her peers, though she never treated them as such. She'd definitely made enemies along the way. However, in all that negative press, he'd also heard things like ridiculously detail-oriented, fanatically determined, headstrong, and willful, which had been written on his own file when he'd been a junior agent.

"Who's the senior agent here?" he heard a loud, demanding voice say from behind him. He intuitively knew who it was.

"Well, damn. She's actually here."

Replacing his surprise with a carefully neutral expression, he turned to face her for the first time. His mind categorized her features quickly. Tall and athletically slim. Ice-blue eyes. Straight black hair hanging to her shoulders. Her pale, almost porcelain skin sharply contrasted with her dark plum lipstick and nail polish. All this was packaged in a sleek, tailored black suit. Severe but sexy... if intensity was your thing.

"That would be me, Agent White," he said.

Those cool eyes locked onto his, and he almost felt it like a physical blow, though he let nothing show. Rachel seemed a little off balance by his greeting. He could see her regroup.

"And you are?" she asked.

"NSA Director Roger Bannon, Los Angeles Division. I believe you have knowledge as to what two of my agents were doing here at the airport?"

Again, a small jolt of surprise ran through her, and her eyes widened. Obviously, this wasn't how she thought this would go.

"Ah, I—I'm not quite sure what—" she began hesitantly.

"Agent Cooper received a call from you at three forty-five PM. He and his partner immediately left for the airport for reasons unrelated to any current case assigned to them. At approximately five thirty PM, Agents Cooper and Ryan confronted person or persons... unknown?" Bannon said, his voice rising in question to indicate he was expecting Agent White to provide this bit of information.

"I'm not sure I can help you—" Rachel began.

"Yet here you are. Directly involved in my investigation affecting two of my agents," Bannon interrupted, his steely voice calm. She might have a slight height advantage over him, but she'd damn well know who was in charge.

"Of course, I'm willing to share my information with you to help in any way I can," she said, backpedaling.

"Great! Let's start with who you directed them to meet," Bannon pushed forward.

Agent White peered over Bannon's head and saw the scorch marks, the debris, and the busy forensic team for the first time. She gasped quietly, and Bannon could see a small smile forming on her lips and a kind of fierce joy flare up in her eyes. "Where are Agents Cooper and Ryan?' she asked quietly as she surveyed the damage, a smile slowly spreading across her face.

Bannon stared at Rachel's expression. Any lingering doubt he might have had of her involvement was gone. Rachel was in it deep. "They were taken to the hospital. Is there something amusing about that, Agent White?" he said, his voice as cold as her eyes.

Rachel's smile disappeared quickly as she realized how inappropriate it was. "No, sir! I'm sorry!" He could see her struggling internally as the look in her eyes swung between an almost fanatical intensity to agonized doubt as she tried to read him.

Bannon asked once more. "Who did you direct them to pick up?"

Rachel's determination seemed to win over her doubt, and her eyes locked on Bannon's. The intensity of her gaze was a little unsettling. "Yes, we should speak... but not in public." She glanced at the reporters, still trying to get attention from anyone with information.

"Fine. Follow me." Without giving her another glance, he set off towards Security, knowing she'd follow. It was the next stop in his investigation anyway, and he could use their interrogation rooms to finally get her part in this cluster fuck. While Bill had indicated the security system had been knocked offline, maybe they'd been able to recover something in the interim.

Once he'd introduced himself to the Airport Security Chief, he asked for a private room to speak with Agent White. Soon, Rachel was sitting across a small table from him, pulling a tablet PC from her case. She set it on the table and activated the screen. She took a moment to center herself before she spoke.

Bannon listened carefully as Rachel meticulously described the events starting when the Neumann siblings entered airport security in Fargo, North Dakota. She presented the data she'd collected from the airport security agent, and he watched the footage of the explosion and reviewed the body scan image. Rachel indicated that the burnt shirt was on its way to the lab, and she hadn't received the report on it yet. While she pointed out things in the video that she felt might be significant, she offered no conjecture, conclusions, opinions, or even theories during her entire presentation. Bannon was impressed, and so far, she was disproving some of the worst elements of her reputation.

He looked at the DMV images of the two young travelers and read the limited information they had on them. He tried to envision how they might be responsible for taking out the two agents in the washroom. Certainly, the man looked physically strong, but when he thought of the extent of the damage, he still felt something was missing from the picture.

Rachel sat across from Bannon, quietly watching him as he processed the evidence she'd collected.

He glanced at her and had to look away when he saw she was unconsciously biting the corner of her lower lip. A slight chill ran down his back as his mind flashed to an image of another woman who used to bite her lip just as Rachel was now. The memory further unsettled him. With an iron will, he pulled his mind back to the present. He felt that she was holding something back. Her information was clear, and he agreed there was enough to warrant a conversation with the Neumanns. He looked up at Rachel again and was surprised to catch on her face an expression of... hope?

"Okay, I believe we need to speak with the Neumanns," he said. Rachel's face lit up with a thousand-watt smile, and he felt a definite pull but locked his emotions down. "Before you get ahead of yourself, there is still the matter of you asking two of my agents to perform an unauthorized detention. And there is a big piece missing. How did your involvement with this begin? Why did the airport security agent contact you specifically?"

Rachel took a deep breath and looked Bannon in the eyes. She steeled herself for the next phase.

"Are you aware of the report I presented to the Washington Director regarding the anomalous gravity fluctuations that have been recorded over the past sixty years?" she asked.

Bannon knew of the report and how badly it had been received. He knew it was likely the main cause of the unofficial blacklisting she was receiving. He'd never had a chance to read it, and it wasn't readily available. "Sorry, I haven't had the opportunity to read it," he said. Rachel looked for scorn but relaxed when she saw none in his eyes and heard none in his voice.

"I won't go into the report's details, but I compiled a listing of geographic locations that experienced brief but extreme gravity field fluctuations combined with higher-than-normal background radiation levels. I then correlated all higher-than-baseline activities recorded in those locations. I believe I found a pattern that warrants further investigation. There is a notably higher number of police reports of fatal accidents, murders... and abductions from these locations around the time of the energy fluctuations. These are hotspots, and I've been monitoring as many as possible with a network of watchers." Rachel glanced at Bannon and was encouraged to continue by his attentive expression.

"Over twenty years ago, one particularly large energy event coincided with a police report of a confrontation with assailants using homemade flame throwers. A male newborn was found at the scene, but the file is incomplete and lacks information on his parents. The infant was adopted by a local family. Today, that same individual traveled from this hotspot to LAX, and you saw the result. This is the first time I've been able to record anomalous activity from someone directly linked to one of these energy events."

Rachel tried to keep her passion from her face, but Bannon could see her almost holding her breath as she watched him, expecting him to reject her findings like everyone else did.

Bannon leaned back in his chair and locked eyes with Rachel. Combined with the information Bill gave him, he was now convinced that he needed to speak with this Joseph Neumann and soon.

God help him. He believed Rachel may have something. He wasn't completely sure what it was yet, but it was becoming obvious to him that she had a keen mind. What she didn't have was the ability to work well with others. Maybe he could help her out with that. He might catch a lot of flak for wanting to work with her, but his gut told him he'd be a damn fool not to.

"Breathe, Agent White," he said.

Not realizing that she hadn't been, she suddenly gasped in relief. Then, that dazzling smile returned. Christ! She looked like a different woman when she smiled... but the intensity remained.

Bannon couldn't stop a smile of his own from slipping onto his face.

Chapter 6

Joe pushed himself back from the dinner table with a deeply satisfied sigh. He was totally unfamiliar with the dishes they'd been served, but each one had been more delicious than the last. Now, he was completely stuffed and feeling more than a little tipsy. Melissa had insisted that he enjoy some of California's best wine with dinner as it perfectly complimented the exquisite flavors of the dishes. Then, a second glass of a different wine with another course as it was better suited. He lost track after Melissa handed him the third glass. He wasn't much of a drinker. For such a big man, he was definitely a lightweight when it came to alcohol.

Their host, Doug, was a gifted hobby chef responsible for creating the entire meal. He truly enjoyed cooking for an audience and complained that he had too few opportunities, so he welcomed their company in his humble home.

Joe took another look around and snorted to himself. Humble was not a word that could be used for such a gorgeous and enormous home. Taking up the entire top floor of a ten-story condo development, the place had to have at least forty-five-hundred square feet of floor-to-ceiling windows, stunning marble, imported tile, rich upholstery, beautiful wall art, and elegant but sturdy wood furniture. The condo had five bedrooms, five and a half bathrooms, a living room with a gas fireplace, a small but complete gym, an office for when Doug worked from home from time to time, a world-class kitchen, of course, and a theater room which Doug called his man cave due to its extensive technological wonders.

When Doug wasn't cooking extravagant and delectable meals for guests, he was an entertainment lawyer working for one of the major movie studios. His occupation and some very savvy investing set him up with enough income to afford this little slice of heaven. Those were his words.

While it was much larger than he needed, he took every opportunity to entertain and invite family and friends to stay over. As long as they allowed him to cook for them.

When Joe and Amy learned Doug was involved in the movie industry, they blurted out that they didn't want to impose on Doug's hospitality. Melissa and Doug chuckled about this and explained that Doug had no involvement in the casting side of the business. However, they both insisted they wanted to see Amy act after dinner. She blushed, but the twinkle in her eye let Joe know she was very pleased.

They retired to a comfortable seating area on the wide balcony to finish their wine. Joe switched to water as he knew from his one previous attempt at drinking that he'd pay for it in the morning if he didn't hydrate well. Amy had been drinking water all night as she didn't like alcohol, and it wasn't legal for her to drink in California even had she wanted to. She wasn't going to put her host on the spot like that.

Joe settled himself back against the soft cushions of his lounge chair, which was large enough to be called a bed, and watched his beautiful sister blossom as she was in her element. Melissa and Doug were clapping with delight as Amy slipped from character to character, doing all her favorites from her days on stage in high school and with the troop in the park.

Doug got a distracted look on his face and asked Amy to wait for a second as he rushed off to his office to get something. He came back out with a script in his hands. He told them he was working on a contract to get the movie rights for the play he was holding. Doug confessed that he had read it from front to back and found it very powerful. He asked Amy if she wouldn't mind reading his favorite passage from it.

Amy quickly read over the page and asked Doug for his impressions of how the scene should be played, who he felt the character was, and how they should react. Once Doug finished, she nodded as she read through the page several more times. Doug could see her working her way through the scene as he slowly stepped back to his chair.

Joe felt that anticipatory tingle on his skin begin as he watched Amy slowly become the tragic woman from the story Doug described. It was like watching the birth of magic, and she hadn't spoken a word yet. Doug and Melissa sat quietly, smiling with their eyes fixed on Amy. Joe knew what was coming, and a grin spread across his relaxed face.

Amy gently placed the script on the low table before Doug and Melissa and stepped back. Suddenly, she looked up at the sky above, grabbed her hair with both hands and wailed at the stars above, crying for the loss of love bound to her very soul. The sound tore from deep in her heart, climbing up her throat and into the night sky. The scream went silent, and Amy slowly sunk to her knees, gasping sobs racking her body like each one was pulling her apart. When she'd almost dropped to the floor, she released her hair and let it fall to obscure her face. She began to pound her small fists against the floor, slowly, painfully, as if to move at all was extreme torture. Gradually, the strikes became faster and harder, filled with more and more rage.

Amy suddenly looked up at Doug and Melissa, and they jumped, her expression warring between grief and rage. Her voice cracking as though destroyed by her screams, she quietly pleaded for her family's return and screamed about the injustice of their murder. Tears fell from her eyes as she described in the softest voice the wonder of kissing the tiny toes of her newborn baby and how she would never do so again. Melissa broke into sobs of her own, even though she seemed unaware of them. Doug's face was frozen and slack-jawed as tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

As if her cries had drained the last of her spirit, Amy slowly crumpled downwards to rest her face against her knees, her long blond tresses hiding her face once more. This brought the scene to a close gracefully.

A shudder seemed to go through her body as Amy released the character. This was her method for remaining herself and not losing herself in the roles she played.

She slowly climbed to her feet and stepped over to Doug and Melissa.

"How was that?" she asked with a shy smile.

Melissa was still crying. She surged to her feet and pulled Amy into a fierce hug, quiet sobs still coming from her lips.

The sudden movement shocked Doug out of his paralysis. He closed his jaw, stiffly got to his feet, and quietly asked to be excused momentarily. Joe saw him heading off towards his office. Amy looked over at Joe with a delicate eyebrow raised in question, and he gave her two thumbs up. She grinned back at him.

Melissa finally wiped her eyes and held Amy's shoulders at arm's length as she peered into the young woman's face.

"I have never been so moved by a performance as I was just now. It felt so real!" she gushed with more than a little awe in her voice. They sat down together and discussed their favorite dramatic performances.

A few minutes later, Doug came back to the group and told them that he'd just got off the phone with a friend of his named Jacquie Rosen, whose talent agency represented many of the big names in Hollywood. He'd made arrangements for Jackie to meet with Amy the following day if Amy was interested.

Amy was stunned. She had an open invitation to meet with Alicia Ravenheart, the woman she'd met at Shakespeare in the Park, and had intended to contact her tomorrow to set up a meeting. However, Alicia wasn't an agent. She was just well-connected in the industry. Amy would still have to arrange for an agent. She hadn't expected to be able to meet with one of this caliber. Now, she felt like she'd forced Doug to make these arrangements.

"Oh! I've imposed on your hospitality!" she cried.

"No! Please! You've done no such thing! I told Jacquie that she'd owe me one if she took you on, and all I ask is that you give my studio first crack at offering you a role. If we get this script, they'd be fools not to cast you for the role you just did for us. Again, I'm just in legal, not casting, but damn! I know talent when it hits me in the heart like you just did!" Doug gushed.

Amy blushed and thanked Doug. She looked at Joe and discovered he was nodding off on the lounge chair. It had been a long day for her brother.

"Melissa, we haven't discussed the hotel you were going to recommend. I think I'd better get Joe to his room before he falls asleep on the patio." Amy said.

"You two are welcome to stay here tonight. It's late, and it looks like Joe isn't going to make it to the hotel." Doug said, grinning at the sleepy man. "And before you say it, it wouldn't be an imposition! As long as you allow me to cook breakfast for you in the morning. I have a new quiche recipe I've been dying to try out on someone!"

"Are you sure?" Amy asked. Then Joe snorted in his sleep.

"I think that's a yes." Doug smiled.

"Thank you both! You've been so generous to Joe and me." Amy said sincerely.

Melissa stood over the sleeping man and asked, "So... how do we get him inside?"

Amy walked over to his side and smiled down at her brother. "If it's not going to rain tonight, you don't. Just toss a blanket over him, and he'll be fine."

The three entered the living room and flipped on the TV to catch the weather report. They were stunned to witness the last second of Joe's face on the screen before the picture cut back to the news anchor.

"If you have any information regarding the current whereabouts of Joseph Neumann or Amy Lynn Neumann, please contact the NSA number on the screen. In other news...."

Doug and Melissa looked at Amy and saw her look of surprise. Of course, they'd just seen how believable her acting was, so the seed of doubt was set. At least, for Doug, it was.

"NSA? Anything you'd like to tell us?" Doug asked.

Amy looked at Doug and blinked. "Yeah, can you find another news channel so we can get the full story on why they are looking for us? I seriously have no idea."

Amy sat down on the couch and raised her eyebrow at Doug. Melissa slapped her brother's arm and took the remote from his hand while she glared at his surprised face.

"Don't be an ass, Doug!" she griped. She clicked through some channels until she found a newscast showing the airport.

"—the power was out for nearly an hour at LAX this evening. Shortly afterward, cleaning staff found two badly injured men in a washroom near one of the gates." Amy and Melissa gasped in unison and looked at each other, then turned to look toward the patio where Joe slept peacefully. They turned back to the TV as the reporter continued.

"Shortly after the men were taken away by ambulance, Los Angeles NSA Director Roger Bannon arrived on the scene and took over the investigation. We've received word that an NSA agent from Washington has also arrived and appears to be working with Director Bannon. Neither has answered any questions, but shortly after arriving at the airport, Director Bannon issued a request for assistance from the public in determining the current location of two potential witnesses: Joseph Neumann and Amy Lynn Neumann." The DMV photos for Joe and Amy were displayed. "If you know the whereabouts of these individuals, please contact the NSA at the number on the screen. Melissa muted the TV, seeing Amy was about to call the number.

Amy entered the number into her cell phone's reminder note app. Suddenly, the cell phone began ringing. She shrieked and dropped it. Embarrassed, Amy scooped it off the floor and saw it was her parent's number.

"Hello?"

"Amy! Is Joe with you? I can't reach his cell. Have you seen the news?" It was Karl, and he sounded upset.

"Dad, I'm just seeing it now. Joe's asleep, and you know he doesn't hear his phone when he's out. I have no idea why they want to talk with us, but I think Joe might. He was using a washroom at the airport, and when he came out, he was missing his shirt, and his pants were wet."

Melissa nodded, recalling that as well. Doug looked more and more upset. Melissa saw this and told him to sit down, which he finally did.

Amy recalled another possibility. "Dad, I think you should also know we had some trouble going through security in Fargo. The machines malfunctioned when Joe went through them. But they let us go, so I thought that was it, but now, I don't know." She noticed the time. "Isn't it past midnight there? How did you see the news about this? Has it been on TV for long?"

"I got a call from our lawyer Christof in New York. I swear the man doesn't sleep. He saw the report and called me immediately. He's waiting for word from me that I've spoken with you and Joe. He'll fly to LA to join you when you meet with the NSA people. Do you have a safe place to stay until he gets there?"

Amy looked at Doug, who was looking seriously stressed. She turned to Melissa. "My Dad wants to know where we'll be until our lawyer can get here to join us when we meet with the NSA people. Maybe you could direct me to that hotel now? I think we've imposed too much as it is." She looked sad.

Melissa looked shocked, then looked angrily at Doug. "You will stay here! It won't be safe for you and Joe to be outside now that your faces have been plastered all over the news. Doug just has to get over his paranoia."

"Please, I don't want to trouble you more than we have—" Amy began.

Doug interrupted her. "No, Mel's right. I'm terribly sorry for my behavior. I haven't been quite myself since those terrorist attacks a few years back. It was shameful of me to immediately assume you were guilty of something. Mel's always been a far better judge of character than I. Please consider staying until your lawyer collects you two," he said humbly.

"Thank you!" Amy said to Doug and Melissa. "Hi Dad, yes, we have someplace to stay until Christof arrives. Do you need the address?"

"No, I will give Christof your number, and he will contact you when he arrives. Can I speak with Joe? Maybe put it on speaker when you get him."

Amy stood up and walked out to the patio. Joe continued to snore softly. She looked down at her brother and felt her heart ache a little. Trouble always seemed to find him, and he was such a gentle soul. "Joe? You need to wake up. Dad needs to talk with you. Trouble." She knew his subconscious would kick him to wakefulness if she used the right words. She'd been doing this with Joe for years.

Joe sat up with a snort and glanced around. He saw Amy standing next to the chair with a concerned look on her face. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Come talk to Dad," she said, returning to the living room.

Joe pushed himself to his feet and shuffled sleepily into the room. He saw the TV was on, and everyone was looking at him expectantly. "Did I miss something while I was asleep?" he asked.

"We're on TV, Joe. The NSA is looking for us as witnesses to an assault that took place in the airport. Do you know anything about that? Wait before you answer, I'll put my phone on speaker. Dad? I have Joe and our new friends Doug and Melissa Wilson with me."

"Hello!" Karl said. "I'm terribly sorry to impose on your hospitality to watch over my kids until our lawyer arrives."

Joe was watching the muted TV screen and saw scenes of the airport gate corridor then his and Amy's DMV photos appeared and disappeared.

"Oh god! All this for a mugging?" Joe gasped.

"What?" said Karl, Amy, and Doug.

"Sorry. I went into the washroom to use the toilet. When I got out to wash my hands, there were two strange men there, one standing at each end of the room. I tried to ignore them, but one tried shooting me with a Taser, but it exploded. He was hurt pretty bad by his gun. The other one hit me with some kind of metal stick, then looked like he was pulling a gun, so I hit him. They were both unconscious when I left the room. I bandaged the first guy's hand with my t-shirt, as it was a gruesome mess. I thought they were just muggers! Weren't they? Is that saying who they were?" Joe said, pointing to the silent TV screen.

"Why didn't you tell us what happened?" Amy asked.

"I made you wait two months while I healed before coming to Hollywood. I didn't want you to get stuck in a police station for who knows how long on your first day here. And I certainly didn't want to drag Melissa into that mess... but I guess I've just made matters worse." Joe looked defeated. "I'm so sorry, Amy. Melissa, Doug, we can leave if you'd like."

"No, Joe, we've already had that conversation. You two are safest here until your lawyer arrives." Doug insisted.

"Dad? Are you there?" Joe asked.

Karl had been silent since hearing of the attack. Of the people listening to this conversation, only he and his wife Clara knew why Joe was drawn into these extraordinary events. Clara was sitting with him, listening in silence for now. She put her hand on Karl's arm and nodded.

"Joseph, honey? It's your Mom. We're both here now."

"Oh, hi, Mom! I was going to ask what you want us to do."

"Just stay where you are; we'll call when we arrive. We'll ask Christof to pick us up on the way to LA. Hopefully, we will see you tomorrow evening."

"You're all coming?" Joe asked in surprise.

"Yes. We'll see you tomorrow. Your father has to call Christof now. Good night, everyone!" and she hung up.

Joe looked at Amy, who was wearing the same surprised and worried look as him.

Chapter 7

Glennville, North Dakota, was barely a speck on the map when Karl's parents first emigrated from Germany and set up their homestead just outside the small village. They chose Glennville for the potential they saw in it and the privacy it offered them. Once wealthy industrialists, center stage in the inner circle of politicos and celebrities, they became sickened by the greed and low moral integrity of their so-called peers. They shunned that life to return to their roots as farmers and brought their vast wealth with them. Wishing to remain anonymous, they had their lawyers set up investment companies that carefully began to funnel money into the town to build schools and hospitals and rebuild its infrastructure from the ground up. The speck that was Glennville would have been gone within a decade if it hadn't been for their investment and careful management.

Early in this process, their law firm insisted that they upgrade the small regional airport to enable it to host jets. The lawyers were tired of driving all the way from Fargo. Karl's parents looked into this and determined they could go one better. They invested in constructing a state-of-the-art training center for air traffic controllers and emergency response teams with the latest equipment and hired top trainers. With the upgraded support infrastructure in place, the law firm performed a minor miracle by working their way through the labyrinth of rules and regulations the Federal Aviation Authority forced upon them before allowing jets to land there. Ultimately, the airport had two extended runways, a jet fuel storage and fueling center, and large hangers for storing larger aircraft. Best of all, they brought a new industry to the small town.

Karl and Clara could now take advantage of their family's forward thinking. Once the law firm's corporate jet had been refueled, they boarded. Their next stop would be LA.

Christof Waechter and Selina Bergstrӧm met them on the jet and offered them some refreshments. Christof explained that their other partner, Natalya Volkov, was currently in Russia dealing with another client but sent her regards. The four sat in deep, comfortable chairs that faced each other so they could conduct business during the flight.

Christof was in one of his impeccably tailored suits, which perfectly fit his trim, compact body. Always the epitome of style and sophistication, Christof was a force of nature in the courtroom. He'd practiced criminal law early in his career but now worked in corporate law with his partners Selina and Natalya. Their law firm had represented Karl's father and now Karl for many years. Christof was generally a serious man, but they'd received a few of his rare smiles over the years. His greying hair lent him a distinguished air.

Karl and Clara had met Selina only once, as she spent much of her time in Europe. They'd spoken on the phone, but it was nice to meet her again. She also wore a fine, tailored suit over her slim, athletic body. She spent much of her free time skiing and hiking, so staying fit was important to her. She was taller than Christof and showed no gray in her long blond hair, which was currently pulled back into a bun. She was roughly the same age as her partner, but Karl had to admit he couldn't really guess how old either was. They both had such amazing vitality.

Once they were back in the air, Christof began. "It is good to see you both again, but I'm not sure why you felt it was necessary to join us for these meetings. I assure you Selina and I are well equipped to deal with the NSA in this matter."

Karl and Clara had spoken the night before about the clear and present danger that Joe's little secret would not remain a secret much longer. Joe's description of the attack made it clear to them that there would be an investigation in which some very uncomfortable questions would be asked, which Joe wouldn't be able to answer to anyone's satisfaction. They agreed it was time to take proactive steps to build a defense for Joe, if possible. This meant they could no longer remain the only ones who knew of Joe's... difference. The only other witness to what Karl saw when he found the weakened newborn in the cornfield more than two decades ago was Glennville's last sheriff, Jeff Monroe. He'd passed away two years ago. Karl had disclosed the events to Clara, and only they knew that Joe had been exposed to something... alien that night.

As an infant, Joe had almost succumbed to various life-threatening medical conditions on multiple occasions but had pulled through miraculously. Their family doctor, Doc Watson, was aware of Joe's unique condition but didn't know its source. Out of respect for Karl's late father and as a repayment of the debt he owed the man, he refrained from pursuing it but only grudgingly.

Karl and Clara had kept the secret even from Joe, believing his ignorance was his best defense against discovery, and they wanted him to have a normal life. The threat of his being incarcerated and studied in a lab was ever-present in their minds. Now that one of their government's largest security agencies focused on their son, they wanted to ensure he was protected as best they could. This meant bringing the right people into their confidence.

"Trust me, Christof, Clara and I fully believe in your and Selina's capabilities. You have never failed us, and we've put you on the spot on a number of occasions." Karl said, his look apologetic. "I'm afraid we're going to be putting you and the firm into another tricky situation. Possibly the largest one yet. If you wish to reconsider your involvement with our family after you hear what I have to say, we won't hold it against you."

Christof's eyebrows rose, and he looked at Selina, who was equally surprised.

Karl leaned forward and struggled for a minute to find a proper way to begin. Clara put her hand on his arm, and he covered it with his, taking comfort in the strength she gave him. "First off, is this conversation secure? Are there any recording devices present? What I'm about to say must not be recorded for Joe's protection. Only the two of you are being included in having this information."

Christof looked once more at Selina, who spoke for the two of them. "Karl, the cabin is free of recording devices, and the pilot and co-pilot are isolated from us unless we use the intercom."

Taking a deep breath, Karl nodded and began again. "Do you recall the story of how I found Joe in the cornfield?" They nodded. "Do you remember the sheriff at that time, Jeff Monroe? His official statement was that he and I investigated some weird lights in the furthest field on our property and found an illegal drug operation. That we were attacked with homemade flame throwers, and they fled. That we found the infant once they ran away." Karl looked down at his hands, which were clasped together, white-knuckled. He released them and shook away the tightness. "That story was eminently more reasonable, rational, and easier to sell than what actually happened that night. I still have nightmares occasionally. I'm going to tell you, but understand one thing. While I can't forget the events of that night, I don't have any real answers to explain them. Could I get some water?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly as his mouth had gone dry.

Christof rose, collected a few small bottles of water from the galley, and gave one to Karl before sitting down to face him and Clara. Karl took a few swallows to moisten his throat.

"Jeff and I did investigate weird lights. The local glider club spotted them and reported it to the Sheriff's department. Jeff was shorthanded that night, so he came out alone. Just he and I went back to the field to check it out. The source of that light was the first thing we saw when we got into a big flattened section in the cornfield. It was... a door... or a gate or maybe a portal. Really big. Rectangular but not solid. It looked like it was made of light, but the center wasn't so much black but an absence of... everything. You couldn't look directly at it for long as it made your head pound. The edge of the door looked like slow-moving multi-colored flames, but the colors were off. Wrong. And it gave off a noise you felt in your bones rather than heard." Karl stopped and took another drink.

"Next, we saw some people. Three people in what looked like baggy green wetsuits. They held silver rods out in front of them with small black... creatures secured at their ends. Then we saw the young man and woman, barely out of their teens. They were naked and standing on some kind of glowing white rectangle. They seemed to be unable to move... aside from screaming. We later discovered these kids were Joe's biological parents." Karl shuddered, and Clara rubbed his back. He looked at her and smiled before continuing.

"Before we could do anything, two of the... wetsuit-people fired the black creatures onto the chests of the young couple. Then everything went to hell. Jeff yelled out, identifying us as police and to drop their weapons. But two turned and pointed the tubes at us. Jeff fired his rifle and hit one in the chest as I dropped to the ground. The second one fired at Jeff and grazed his shoulder, knocking him down. The silver tube wasn't a flame thrower. Light shot out and burned the shoulder of Jeff's leather jacket and badly scorched the skin underneath."

"Then the kids started to scream, and everyone froze and watched. The black creatures had melted into their chests, merging with them, but they turned bright red, then yellow, and you could feel the heat coming off them. The kids started to glow like they were lit up from the inside. God, they screamed." Karl shuddered. "The burning noise became deafening, like standing right next to dozens of oxy-acetylene torches. They stopped screaming, and the burning consumed their entire bodies. Nothing remained but ash. Then I saw the third guy about to drop the last black creature onto a baby which was laying on the ground. I just had a shotgun, so there was a risk I'd hit the baby, but the alternative was worse. I fired and hit the guy and the black creature. Took a big chunk out of both. But the rest of the thing still fell onto the baby's chest. Jeff recovered enough to fire his revolver and hit the only uninjured assailant. He grabbed the guy I shot and pulled him through the doorway. It closed immediately, and we were suddenly in complete darkness. I made it over to the baby, and Jeff got his light over to us just in time for me to see the creature sink inside his chest. But he didn't burst into flames. Nothing happened. I didn't tell Jeff what happened to the baby. I don't know why. The boy was just so small and weak. After what I witnessed happening to the kids, I needed to protect him."

"We shone our flashlights on the body of the first guy Jeff hit and watched it melt into a puddle of ooze. It wasn't human. And the green wasn't a wetsuit. It was its skin. The kids were ash, and the white rectangle was turned into slag from the heat. We couldn't see anything, so we returned to the house and called Doc Watson, who looked at the baby, reset Jeff's dislocated shoulder, and treated his burns. When everyone left, I told Clara what happened. The next day, I went back to the field with Jeff and a bunch of his deputies, but the entire area had been turned to ash. To this day, nothing grows there. I put an eight-foot chain link fence around the dead area."

"Doc Watson also examined Joe that day and found that he was malnourished, underweight, and had probably just been born a few days earlier. There was no sign during that exam of the creature which sank into his chest, and we never told Doc Watson what had happened to him. It was roughly a year later when Joe started having medical issues, one life-threatening issue after another. Heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, digestive system, skin, on and on, each major organ and system underwent some crisis. But with Clara's vigilance in watching for symptoms, Doc Watson's immediate attention, and Joe's tremendous will to live, he pulled through time after time. He was still tiny, weak, and struggling but never gave up."

"When Joe hit an early puberty, his body changed dramatically. Until then, he remained in the lower percentile for his age group. Smaller and lighter than any of his peers. When his growth hormones kicked in, they kicked into overdrive, and he grew quickly. The gym teacher at school got Joe interested in weightlifting, and he took to it like a fish to water. His body put on muscle mass incredibly fast. It was about this time Doc Watson took me aside and told me that he could no longer get blood samples from Joe during his medicals as the needles wouldn't pierce his skin. He wanted to do more in-depth testing, but I refused to let him. Joe's never had a broken bone or even a cut. He feels pain and bruises, but his recovery is faster than normal."

Christof couldn't restrain himself any longer. "Are you saying that Joe is not human?"

Clara spoke up. "Joe is human! He's just something else as well."

"We believe Joe's human, but he's been modified by the creature that merged with him. I've had a lot of time to think about what I saw that night and what has happened to Joe in the years since then. Again, I have no idea who the aliens were, where they came from, or why they attached the black things to humans. I'm not trained in any of the xeno sciences. I certainly can't guess the intentions of an alien mind.

I'm a farmer, but I've trained myself in molecular biology and have significant experience with horticultural sciences, so I have some scientific basis for formulating a hypothesis on the outcome of the merging. That said, I could still be wrong.

Anyway, the black creature seems to have had a symbiotic effect with Joe. There was a period when Joe's organs were failing one after another. I suspect the organism was merging with Joe on a molecular level and was learning the functions of Joe's body as it went. Incredibly risky, and without outside assistance from Clara and Doc Watson, it might have been fatal. The creature that merged into Joe was badly injured. I saw it take a direct hit from the shotgun shell. Its weakened state may have been responsible for its slow transition instead of the rapid and fatal release of energy we saw with those kids. Since its integration completed, Joe's been happy, healthy, fit, and has shown some incredible resistance to damage and fast recovery from his injuries."

Selina had remained silent, but now she spoke up. "You suspect the NSA has some suspicion regarding Joe?"

"There is a chance the NSA does consider Joe just a witness for the attack. However, Joe described the attack on him in the airport. One of his attackers used a Taser on him. The device exploded and badly injured the assailant. Maybe they will accept that the device was somehow faulty. However, Amy let me know that Joe had issues with the security machines in Fargo. That was my mistake. I should have known Joe wouldn't make it through the airport security zone without issues." Karl berated himself.

"Why would Joe have trouble going through the security check?" Christof asked.

"Doc Watson was the first to notice it. When Joe was sixteen, there was an accident at his birthday party, and a lot of scaffolding fell on him while he protected two young women. They were all rushed to the hospital, but as the girls hadn't been touched, Doc Watson only x-rayed Joe. Or tried to. The machine malfunctioned and burned out. He destroyed an ultrasound unit and two electrocardiogram machines, trying to get a glimpse inside Joe to assess his injuries. Something in Joe affects machinery which attempts to scan him, or maybe it screws up or reflects their energy. I have no idea how he does it, but it seems he has the same effect on the equipment at the airport and now Tasers. Will the NSA be interested? They could probably dispel the Taser malfunction as unfortunate, but combined with the other malfunctions, I doubt they'll let go until they get answers."

Karl sat back, and Clara took his hand in hers. They sat quietly while Christof and Selina digested what they'd been told. Karl tried not to disclose how nervous he was. They desperately needed their help, and what he asked them to believe sounded crazy, even to his ears. Even if they believed him, what he was asking them to do was enormous. Represent the first evidence of alien... interference? Even Karl had difficulty understanding the scope of the issues Joe represented.

"Karl, would you mind if Selina and I have a brief private conference?" Christof asked.

While his heart sank, Karl kept his face impassive and nodded. The lawyers stood, moved to the back of the plane, and stepped into the galley.

Clara noted the twitch in his grip and knew Karl was worried. When they were alone, she turned her chair to face his. "Karl, what's wrong?"

"I don't think they believe me. If we lose their counsel, I fear we will lose Joe. I'm a farmer, not a lawyer. I can't give Joe the help he needs for this." Karl said.

Karl leaned forward, resting their foreheads together as they held hands. Karl wasn't a religious man by any means, but he was praying for a miracle now.

A few minutes later, they heard a discreet clearing of a throat and looked up to see Christof and Selina had returned. Karl and Clara swiveled their chairs back to face the others as the lawyers took their seats.

"Karl, I knew your father. He was a man of great integrity. I've known you for close to thirty years, and in all that time, you have many times proven to be your father's son. Now, I'm faced with a story that shakes the very foundations of the world. And I find myself in the uncomfortable position of having to believe it."

Karl and Clara felt a surge of hope, but Christof's and Selina's stern expressions quelled it immediately.

"Such a thing, I had hoped would happen when I was dead and gone to my rest. It has such potential to change, well... everything. Selina and I are not young mavericks looking for worlds to change." Seeing his friends become crestfallen, he continued. "However, destiny cares not for the wishes and whims of the likes of us. Turning our backs on this challenge and abandoning you in your hour of greatest need would mock every principle we've claimed to live by. To be the professionals and people we set out to be, we must do our best to see that Joe is given every chance to maintain his freedom and autonomy. This is not going to be a simple thing. As I said before, his very existence changes everything. Very powerful people like things the way they are."

Selina took over. "Our goal must be to assure these powerful people that our desires coincide with theirs but that any action they take will put that at risk. May we assume Joe wishes to maintain a low profile and not disclose his secret?"

"We haven't disclosed it to him. We don't know how he will react once he knows, but he's always proven to be a sensible, level-headed young man. He took the news that he was adopted very well. Granted, he was six when we sat him down to tell him, but I expected more trauma. Instead, he showed surprising maturity. This news will be far more life-altering for him, but he's still Joe. His core beliefs will stay true." Karl said.

Selina nodded. "I personally don't believe it is safe to trust that one security agency will not attempt to seize Joe as an asset of their government. What he represents does not just affect the United States. I believe his safety would be more assured if the agencies of more than one country were invited to this meeting, but as this potentially expands the exposure Joe could face, that decision is yours to make."

Christof nodded to his colleague. "I agree with Selina that this is larger than one government should be entrusted to manage, but I have doubts about the ability of multiple governments to cooperate in this matter. Especially if our stated goal is to maintain secrecy. I believe we should restrict access to the information but have measures in place to distribute it as broadly as possible should the government choose not to honor an agreement of mutual non-interference. To get them to cooperate in the first place, we must be prepared to give them access to Joe for specified intervals. Will Joe be amenable to this?"

"Again, I believe so, but we need to speak with him first," Karl replied.

Christof looked at Selina, who nodded at him. "So, we must prepare a data cache containing the pertinent information regarding Joe's origin and any data we can gather to provide as evidence in a disclosure package. I'm unsure how long this will take, but we must be quick. Only once we have this and have our distribution mechanism defined can we arrange to meet with the NSA."

Karl pulled a USB data key from his pocket. "Will this do? It's a diary I've kept on Joe's life since the night we found him. It contains text logs, a bunch of short movies of Joe at various points in his growth, struggling through the ailments, stills of every medical report I got from Doc Watson, and a few voice recordings. The first entry is a video I shot of myself the first night. It's not very good, and I'm jittery from reaction setting in, but I describe the events that occurred pretty much as I described them to you."

Christof was stunned. He took the offered key. "Karl! Yes... this would be perfect. This is a copy, yes? Is it encrypted?"

"The originals are on my home PC. I never figured out how to add encryption. I barely managed to figure out how to digitize the home movies," Karl admitted.

"We will encrypt the files into a single data packet and send it to Natalya. Initially, she will act as our fail-safe. The firm has protocols we've set up in the case of kidnapping, which we can use for our first meeting to ensure the NSA listens. I must bring Natalya into the loop with your permission." Karl and Clara nodded.

"Okay, well. We have much to do before we arrive. Natalya will handle the construction of the data drops. I will ship her the encrypted packet via my satellite phone before we land." Christof stood up to get his laptop.

Selina had a confused look on her face. "Karl, you were concerned about recording devices before you told us your story. Yet now you offer us a far more complete recording."

Christof smiled and looked at Karl. "If I may?" Karl nodded. "The Neumann's are canny negotiators when it comes to the safety of their family. If we had refused to believe or assist them, then there would be no recordings not within their control. Only when they were assured of our support was this offered."

Selina smiled and nodded. "Wise. I see why you like working with them, Christof."

"That's only the tip of the iceberg, Selina," he said in return.

Chapter 8

Doug Wilson had once again proven his culinary mastery as Amy and Joe savored the delicate flavors of the breakfast quiche melting over their tongues. Even Joe, famous for wolfing down his breakfast, took the time to fully enjoy the delicious meal. Doug made spiced brown beans and creamy mashed potatoes for his side dishes, while Amy received a fresh-cut fruit salad and delicately grated potato hash browns. Doug sat sipping his coffee at the end of the table with a smug expression that made Melissa snort when she walked into the kitchen.

"Look at the self-satisfied chef basking in the glory of satisfied diners!" she ribbed her brother. He tried to wipe the look from his face, but he clearly was enjoying their obvious delight in his cooking. He gave up and just stuck his tongue out at his sister.

"The recipe is a success and goes on my favorites list. Would you like some before Joe goes back for, uh, a fourth helping?" he asked.

"That's okay. I'll just have some fruit and coffee," she replied.

"This is why you don't get invited back more often," he grumped.

"Fine! Give me a small slice. Small!" she stressed as he prepared to cut her some from the dish.

Melissa got her coffee and sat down next to Joe. Doug slid her a plate with the quiche and a fork. She raised her eyebrow at him, then scooped a forkful into her mouth.

"Ohhhh... that's good!" she mumbled around her mouthful.

The smug look was back. "Okay, you can visit again."

Once she had finished enjoying her breakfast, she looked over at Joe, who was moments away from licking his plate. "You have enough for breakfast, Joe?" she asked.

"Yes, that was wonderful! My Mom is an amazing cook, but Doug is a master." He froze as he looked at Amy. "Don't tell Mom I said that when she gets here!" he said quickly.

"Too late! Mom has to hear about your shameful, disparaging comments about her cooking!" Amy teased.

Melissa smiled at the two siblings, recalling similar behavior between herself and Doug. Again, as she watched them make faces at each other, she tried to detect any inklings that they were anything more than the innocent—Whoa! What's THAT! Melissa stared at Joe's tongue, which he'd stuck out at his sister.

"Joe, do that again!" Melissa ordered.

"Huh? Do what again?" he turned to look at her.

"Stick out your tongue. Let me see," she reached over and tapped his chin.

Joe's mouth snapped shut, and he looked embarrassed. This just made Amy curious, too. "Joe? Stick out your tongue for Melissa."

"No."

"Why not?" Amy asked.

"Just drop it, okay? Thanks for breakfast, Doug. It was amazing! I'm gonna go catch some sun on the patio. Thanks!" Joe stood up, placed his dishes in the sink, and walked out onto the deck. He didn't look at the women once. Amy and Melissa shared shocked looks.

"What did you see?" Amy asked.

"I could have sworn I saw a tattoo on his tongue! Two dark stripes with little curls at the tip." She responded. "I didn't mean to offend or embarrass him," Melissa said contritely.

"Joe? Get a tattoo? That's crazy! And on his tongue?" She looked towards the patio door. "Can you give me a moment to talk with him alone? I have to get to the bottom of this." Amy stood and quickly kissed Doug on the cheek in appreciation for the amazing breakfast. His smug smile just amped up ten more notches, and Melissa groaned at him with a smile of her own.

Amy found Joe on the large lounge chair he'd used the night before. His shirt was off, he'd rolled up the legs on his board shorts, and his feet were bare. His skin almost glowed in the morning sun. Her best friend Rachel was right. He looked like a demigod. She shook that thought from her head.

Joe's eyes were closed, and his lips had a slight frown. Clearly, they'd upset him.

"Joe?" Amy said quietly.

He turned his face toward her and opened his eyes in a squint against the sun but said nothing.

Amy sat down next to Joe. "I'm sorry we teased you. We didn't mean to upset you. Can you tell me about it?"

Joe looked away for a minute, struggling with something. Amy waited.

"Do you remember two winters ago when I was using that sunroom to get over that issue I had with the cold?" Amy nodded. "I told Dad the lights in the room gave me a tan even though he said the bulbs couldn't do that. And I did get a tan, as you can see. The tan doesn't fade like a normal tan, and sitting in the sun doesn't make it darker. It seems to be permanent."

"Is that bad? It's a really nice tan. Very healthy looking! Rachel told me you look like a golden idol." She smirked at Joe's obvious discomfort over the mention of Rachel's hero worship. Then she remembered she was apologizing for teasing him. "Oops! Sorry," she said.

"You remember that night when Rachel passed out because you opened the sunroom door on me?" he asked.

Now, it was Amy's turn to be uncomfortable. She remembered the event vividly. Even after all this time, perhaps too vividly. She and Rachel were playing pool when they heard Joe yell. They thought he was in trouble, so they raced from the games room into the hall, and she yanked the sunroom's door open. There, standing before them, was Joe, completely naked. The sunroom's lights were fully on, so he was lit from all sides, almost glowing in heavenly detail. Rachel claimed she couldn't get the image from her head. Amy denied it but also saw that image in moments of weakness.

Like now.

"Yes," she said, voice cracking slightly.

"That was the night I discovered the light had caused me another problem. I talked with Dad about it; he identified that it's just skin pigment. He said I'd overdone it with the tanning, and it was just some kind of pigment overflow issue. I expected it to go away when my tan faded, but it didn't fade. It's embarrassing, and I've kept my tongue hidden ever since. Until I forgot today."

"Can I see?" Amy asked timidly.

Joe looked at her and saw only concern on her face. "Okay, but just look."

Amy screwed up her face. "What else would I do with your tongue?" she blurted before catching herself.

Joe's face went crimson, as did Amy's. "I mean, don't touch it," he muttered.

Amy nodded, her face radiating the heat of her embarrassment.

Slowly, Joe stuck out his tongue and hung it down his chin. Sure enough, two parallel lines started at its tip and ran back towards his throat. As Melissa described, the lines were very thin at the end and finished with little curls. They slowly widened as they moved farther back, but she couldn't see how far the lines went as they disappeared into his throat. Amy realized his tongue reached down just a little bit past his chin! She stuck her own out, tried to see how far hers could reach, and found it only went halfway. Damn! Joe's tongue was long and had tribal tattoo markings. She could see why he was a little sensitive about it.

"Does mine have lines?" she asked Joe, and she stuck it out again.

Joe looked and said, "Nope. Perfectly pink."

"Dad was right. The color of the lines matches your tan. It has to be pigment. Odd that it ended up there. You're lucky the lines are so thin at the tip. That's probably why no one notices them when you talk normally. I certainly didn't notice."

Joe looked sad. Amy's heart went out to him. He hated being in the spotlight, and each new, unique thing about him made more people look. He already caught more attention than he was comfortable with.

Speaking of catching attention, Amy noticed a petite woman on the penthouse patio of the adjacent condo tower of this development. She was standing at the railing, watching them. She must have been sunning herself as she wore the skimpiest of bikinis and had her pink hair pulled back in a ponytail. When Joe looked over, she began to wave. It became a little frantic.

"Oh shit," Joe mumbled. "Well... isn't this a small world."

"Who is that, Joe?" Amy asked.

"Niki Love." he sighed.

"Niki Love, the pop star? The one who came to our play?" she said incredulously.

"That's the one," Joe said and waved back.

That's all it took for the diminutive singer to spin around and run back into her condo. And she was gone.

"Do you think she will call the police or the NSA?" Amy asked.

"We should be so lucky," Joe growled. "If her security is with her, one of them might as they hate me. Let's go inside and let Doug and Melissa know we may be having visitors."

The siblings were still in the kitchen when Joe and Amy walked inside. Joe hadn't put his shirt on, so Melissa was a little dazzled. Amy noticed and gave Joe a slap. She pointed to his shirt, and he clued in. Once he was covered, Melissa gave Amy a playful pout.

"Doug, did you know your neighbor across the way is Niki Love?" Joe asked.

"Who?" came the reply.

"Doug! How could you not know who Niki Love is?" Melissa gasped and turned a scowl on her brother. "Niki Love, pop star extraordinaire?" Doug maintained his clueless look.

"I think you might be about to meet her," Joe said.

Melissa's head snapped over to Joe. "Wha—?"

"Yeah, she saw me on the balcony and recognized me. I think she's coming over," Joe said.

"She recognized you?" Melissa was confused.

Amy took pity on her and filled her in on how Joe worked security at the Shakespeare on the Park and met many celebrities but had apparently made a special impression on a few of them.

Melissa immediately felt a little defensive. She had plans of her own for Joe, and now, in her brother's home, this Niki Love would try to put the moves on him?

"There's an additional problem. If her security goons are with her, they'll be pissed to see me, and they may call that NSA number. Our lawyers and parents aren't supposed to arrive until later tonight."

"So, we should be prepared to move you two as soon as we can ditch Niki Love," Melissa said firmly.

The doorbell rang. Joe's head swiveled to the door. "That would be someone in the lobby buzzing us," Doug said, lifting the kitchen phone's receiver. "Hello?"

"Hi, this is your neighbor, Niki Love. I live in the building across from you. Could you please buzz me in so I can come to see Joseph? We just waved to each other on the balcony."

"Sure, hang on," Doug said, punching a code into the phone. He listened some more, then hung up. "I only heard her heels clicking on the marble tiles, so maybe it's just her."

A few minutes later, another doorbell sounded, but this one was higher pitched. Doug walked over to the door, followed closely by Melissa and Amy. Joe followed at the back, wishing he was anywhere but here.

Doug opened the door, and there stood the pop star, a vision in pink. She still had on the pink bikini but had thrown over it a diaphanous pink cover-up, which did not live up to its name. Pink four-inch heels completed her outfit. "Hi, Doug Wilson..." he managed to mumble, holding a hand out.

Totally unselfconscious about her attire, she shook Doug's hand and leaned up to press cheeks on both sides with the air kiss, which stunned the man enough that she could move inside only to be met with Melissa's towering height. Four-inch heels on a five-foot-nothing woman are no match for a six-foot barefoot woman.

"And you are?" Niki turned on the charm, seeing her target only two people away.

"I'm Melissa, Doug's sister and host to Amy and Joe during their visit."

Niki used this introduction as her excuse to side-step Melissa and move on. "Amy!" Again, with the double cheek air kiss, but Amy was a natural with the celebrity greeting already. "Your performance in the play I saw was breathtaking! I hope you are here in LA to grace us with your talents!"

Then she was before Joe. He saw her tremble slightly in reaction. "Joseph! How I've missed you!" He leaned down warily, but she played nice and kissed his cheeks. Actual contact, though, not just an air kiss for him.

"Are you in town for long? I'd really like to spend some time with you. Our last visit was so short!" she pouted at him.

Joe cast his eyes to the others who'd obviously disappeared from Niki's radar. Doug was still a little dazed by her breezy entry and light perfume, which lingered in his senses. Melissa looked like she might be ready to blow her top at being dismissed. Amy just had that grin she got when she witnessed a woman targeting her brother.

Joe thought he'd better make this quick, or Melissa might do something she'd regret. He took Niki's hands and looked her deep in the eyes. "Yes, we plan to be in town for a month or two. We were actually just about to head out. Could we make plans to get together a little later in the week? We need some time to settle in."

"Of course! That would be perfect!" she purred and pulled out her phone from the tiny clutch she was carrying in her hand. "Give me your number, and I'll call you in... two days?"

"Yeah, sure, that sounds good," Joe said, showing his cell number to Niki, who quickly added it to her phone's contact list.

"It was so good to see you again, Joe!" she said, leaning her body against his in a full-body hug that was too long to be appropriate. Joe glanced at Melissa and saw her jaw muscles bunching.

"Okay, well, until later then." Joe gently separated them, and Niki nodded to the others as she left the apartment. She blew him a kiss as the door closed.

"Should we go out now?" he asked.

Doug pressed buttons on the wall console by the door, and the patio doors closed. Then the blinds closed. "No, we stay in until we get the call from your parents. I seriously doubt Ms. Love will jeopardize her date with you, so we should be safe from her calling the feds. In the meantime, we lay low. I must call Jacquie Rosen to let her know we won't see her today. I forgot all about her in the excitement last night. She's gonna be pissed but not too pissed when she sees you act... Amy, why don't you come with me, and we can do a video call with her so the two of you can feel each other out and see if it's a good fit. Joe, do you want to use the gym? I know Melissa planned to do a workout this morning."

Amy looked delighted with the idea of moving forward with meeting the agent. Melissa looked thrilled at the thought of being alone with Joe.

When Joe heard the word gym, he stopped listening as his muscles began twitching in withdrawal. He needed to push them. "Yeah! That would be great! Thanks!" Melissa pointed him in the right direction, and Joe was off. Melissa headed off to her room to get her gym clothes on.

Doug headed into his office with Amy, got them situated before his computer, and dialed his friend.

Joe looked at the dumbbells first and noted they only went up to fifty pounds. He removed his shirt and began with a light arm work warm-up with the largest dumbbells. Once he started feeling his muscles loosen, he moved to the home gym. He slotted the pins at half the stack, one-hundred and twenty-five pounds, and went through his routine, working through his muscles, feeling them stretch, loosen, and warm up. Melissa came in while he was halfway through his first pass. She watched him for a while before beginning her routine with the smaller dumbbells. When Joe completed his final set, he sat on the machine's seat and watched Melissa for a time. She was very fit, and she didn't mind showing off what she was capable of.

Before his muscles cooled off, Joe moved the pin to the bottom of the stack, all two-hundred and fifty pounds of plates, and began his routine again from the start. Moving through each muscle group, feeling them come alive and work hard. Joe felt most at peace when he was working his body this hard. The stack went up and down in a slow dance of energy transference.

From his will to his muscles to the stack and back. Again and again, he worked his arms, shoulders and back, chest and abs, and worked his way down his legs, each group helping the next until the whole moved as one.

When Joe began with the full stack, Melissa grinned and assumed Joe was just showing off after he'd watched her for a while. This happened to her in gyms all over the world. However, Joe didn't give up after a few strained attempts to move the full stack as the others had. He did his routine again, but now in slow motion, moving with a kind of grace, like Tai chi, from one set to the next. Total concentration on his face, giving himself entirely to the experience. His lungs worked like bellows, bringing oxygen to his hard-working muscles, but Joe never gasped or panted. And the plates never slammed down once.

Her routine forgotten, Melissa sat and watched the muscles bunch and stretch under Joe's skin as he pulled and released the cables. It was one of the most erotic dances she'd ever seen a man perform. No machismo, no ego, just honest effort and reward. There was definitely a reward in this for Joe, as she could see the peace on his face. He almost looked completely relaxed as he moved that massive set of metal plates up and down on its guides.

When he was done, and the stack lowered to the bottom for the last time, she saw Joe surface from wherever his mind had gone during his workout. He looked at the machine with wonder in his eyes.

"I have to get myself one of these machines!" he told Melissa breathily. "Do they make them with larger stacks?"

Melissa wanted to take him right then. Drag him onto the mat and ride him into exhaustion. But she could tell he was still coming down from his workout and wasn't in the same headspace as she was. Damn, was she horny!

"Yes, uh, I think they do," she mumbled and looked away.

Joe's eyes focused on her, and he realized she was flushed and breathing heavily. He saw her nipples visibly pressing against the tight spandex of her workout clothes. Outside of a little squirming, she was doing her best to hide her reaction from him. Considering how women usually treated him, he was touched by her consideration. He actually found that restraint very attractive. Melissa flirted with him but knew when to draw the line. Still, he did find her very attractive—damn. Now, he was the one showing through his clothes. He looked up and saw Melissa had noticed. Her eyes were wide, and she was biting her lip. Well, he wouldn't be able to hide this one, considering the thinness of his shorts. He stood up, and Melissa's eyes slid away but immediately returned.

"I'm going to take a shower," he said. "Would... would you care to join me?" he added quietly.

Melissa's eyes snapped up to Joe's, and her mouth made a surprised O. Then she had the widest smile he'd seen her make yet. He held out his hand, and she placed hers into it. He effortlessly pulled her to her feet, and they walked back to her room, moving faster and faster until they were almost running.

Once in the bathroom, Melissa pulled her top up and over her head. They kicked their sneakers off, then Joe only had one more article of clothing to go. He slid his shorts down, and his heavy member bounced free. Melissa gasped, slid her workout pants down, and dropped to her knees as she did. She reached out and gripped him with both hands. Joe hissed through his teeth in surprise at the feel of her hands sliding on his sensitive flesh. He gasped again as her wet tongue ran along its underside. Then she took him in her mouth. Joe yelped with the intensity of the pleasure. He'd never felt anything like it. She tried to force more of him inside her mouth, but it was impossible. She pulled free and gasped for air. She ran her fingers over the wet skin, then along his length, causing Joe to jolt from the intense sensations. She took him back into her mouth, and Joe saw stars momentarily. He was quickly losing control with the onslaught of pleasure Melissa was giving him.

When she pulled free again, Joe immediately dropped to his knees, took her face between his hands, and kissed her deeply. He forcefully suppressed the surge as best he could in his excited state, but she cried out into his mouth as she felt the shocks course through her nerves. He laid her back on the thick bathroom rug, then tugged her pants from the tangle at her feet. He pushed her legs up and kissed her soundly between them. Melissa clamped both hands over her mouth to keep from screaming as pleasure rocketed through her from Joe's active tongue. Her orgasm was quick and fierce, but she clawed at him to climb up and take her. He stopped and looked at her in desperation.

"I'm on the pill, and I'm clean. You?" she gasped.

"I've only had one partner, once, last year. She was clean, so yeah." Then he was sliding his thickness into her heat.

"Oh! Oh... ooooooh, Joe. Slow, slow, slow!" Melissa moaned.

He pulled back, then slowly reversed direction. God, this was heavenly!

Melissa was puffing her breathing, trying to relax as Joe slid half his length inside. He stopped as he could sense her tightening up. He was just too thick. Joe looked down at her flushed face, then lower still to her magnificent breasts. The nipples he had admired through her spandex were free to stand up in excitement. He arched his back and took the left nipple in his mouth.

"Joe! Oh god! Oh! Oh! Oh! What are you—" Melissa shook and gasped as the surge shot from her breasts to where they were joined below. Joe switched to the other nipple and felt her gushing with wetness. Joe pulled back once more, then slid down to her depths.

"Aaaaahhh!" the scream was from deep in her chest, and her heels came up to grip his ass.

Joe pulled back halfway and drove forward to the base again. He started a rhythm, and Melissa gasped and clawed at his back as the sensations threatened to overwhelm her. Joe couldn't last much longer, so he dipped his head and kissed her once more. The surge flashed through her overstimulated nerves. He felt his orgasm burst forth, and Melissa rocked under him with her own. He pulled back from the kiss and felt her relax completely.

"Damn, went too far," he sighed.

He eased himself out of her and looked down at the sleeping woman. She was so beautiful in her relaxed state.

He wondered what to do with her and decided to lay her on her bed. He put a towel on the bed, scooped the woman up from the floor, and gently set her on the towel. He pulled the sheet over her for decency. Then he took a quick shower, dried himself off, and slipped his shorts back on.

He closed her bedroom door behind him and walked into the living room. He realized he had nothing to do until his parents arrived, so he flopped down on the couch and closed his eyes.

Sleep quickly took him.

Chapter 9

Roger Bannon set the report down on his desk. It had taken some effort to get a copy, but now that he was working with Agent White, he felt he needed the background on why she had fallen out of favor with her superiors in such a big way. This report was also the basis for her involvement in this case, so there was a second reason to read it.

He couldn't honestly say he followed all the science Rachel referenced in the report, but nothing he read sounded like a flight of fancy, technobabble, or sheer lunacy as it had been described in the gentlest terms. Truthfully, the report was, if anything, a little dry. Rachel was a master fact collector and had gathered so much minutia regarding each aspect of each anomalous gravity event the point was being missed. He understood that she was attempting to refute any alternate theory that might be offered to explain away the events as something that might happen naturally. However, the sheer mass of information she surrounded each event with obscured the importance of the pattern they formed.

There was a correlation between the events and a rise in violent crime at these locations. People were dying. The number was small, but there was a consistency he found disturbing.

Her information regarding events in other countries was sparse, not surprisingly, but definitely hinted at this being a global issue. The fact that she had pushed her superiors to get her access to resources in these other countries to help her expand her case was probably the nail in the coffin. No senior-level agent or executive wanted any association with alien conspiracy/invasion theories. So, they killed the report and blackballed the agent who presented it.

A brilliant agent who just didn't understand the politics involved.

A beautiful, intense, keenly intelligent agent whose smile—"Whoa, take a step back, Bannon," he thought. "Dangerous waters there. Keep it professional."

His fingers automatically sought out his wedding band and spun it around a few times. It was a nervous habit of his. Truthfully, it was the only reason he still wore the ring during the past five years. It gave him an outlet for nervous energy, and sometimes, it gave him comfort.

He heard a knock on his door. "Come in," he called out.

The door opened, and Agent White was standing in the doorway. She gave him another of those rare smiles, and he felt that momentary flutter in his chest as he was struck by the transformation it had on her, from coolly efficient to radiant beauty in a flash. He clamped down on that line of thought. "Yes, Agent White, what have you found?"

"I contacted the Glennville Police Department and had them recheck their records on the birth parents of Joseph Neumann. There had been a misfiling, and the clerk sent me the documentation. His birth mother was Jennifer Brown, age seventeen, from New York City. Father was Richard Franklin, age eighteen. Franklin was an orphan, but Brown had a mother living in New York. There has been no sign of Richard Franklin or Jennifer Brown since that day. Brown's mother died of a heroin overdose a few weeks after signing away her legal guardian rights to the Neumanns. With no other living relatives and no sign of the birth parents, their lawyers turned heaven and hell over to expedite the adoption. A five-year process took only two for the Neumanns. That takes a lot of clout."

Bannon considered this a moment. "Did the Neumanns have any children before the adoption?"

Rachel froze for a second, her mind changing gears as Bannon's question took her in a direction she hadn't remotely considered. "No, sir."

"If they had tried and been unsuccessful, that might also explain their impatience. Which law firm do they use?" he asked.

"Waechter, Bergström, and Volkov out of New York City," she read.

"Can you get me a little background on them?" Bannon asked.

"Yes, sir," she said, turning to leave.

"And Rachel?"

"Yes?"

"Excellent work," he said with a smile for her.

She returned the smile and closed his door.

Bannon spun his ring.

Chapter 10

Joe came awake with the sound of the doorbell. For a second, he didn't know where he was, and for some reason, he thought he should run and hide. He was on his feet before his surroundings came into focus, and he recalled where he was. Now that the adrenalin was flowing, he walked over to the kitchen. Doug was buzzing someone in.

"Your parents and lawyers have arrived," he said when he hung up. Amy was sitting at the kitchen table. She gave him a smile, which he returned.

"That must have been quite a workout! You two have been flaked out all da—" Amy started, then realized what might have occurred to lead them to this state. Her face went crimson in a flash.

Joe turned to Doug, who was looking a little unsettled, too. They both needed to change the direction of that conversation. "Yes, that home gym is awesome! I've only ever used free weights, but there are just so many options on that one machine. I want to get one for home. Do they make them with a double-weight stack?"

"There's two hundred and fifty pounds on that machine. Why would you need double that?" Doug asked, puzzled.

"Well, that weight was good, but I didn't really get a full burn going," Joe answered.

Doug stared at Joe, unable to think of a response. Then the doorbell chimed. "Damn, I should have woken Melissa up earlier."

"I'd let her sleep," Joe offered Doug with a suspiciously innocent expression.

He glanced at Joe, then walked over to his front door.

Opening it, he saw a handsome man standing beside a beautiful, petite blond woman who had to be Amy's mother. "You must be Karl and Clara? Welcome," Doug greeted his guests and welcomed them in. He turned to the next couple waiting to enter.

"Hello, I'm Christof Waechter, and may I introduce my colleague Selina Bergström." Doug smiled and shook their hands. He noted the extremely well-tailored outfits and fit bodies of these lawyers, but mostly, he was taken with the keen intellect visible behind Selina's beautiful eyes. "Doug Wilson, pleased to meet you," he whispered. Christof's eyes twinkled as he smiled at his partner.

Doug snapped out of his daze. "I'm sorry, my sister would be here to greet you as well, but she's rather exhausted from working out this afternoon with Joe—I mean, they were in the home gym. They used the home gym—" Clara placed her hand on Doug's arm with a smile to stop the train wreck from continuing. "It's fine. We can say hello later."

Joe and Amy were standing in the hallway with worried expressions. "Mom, Dad, we hadn't expected to see you so soon." Joe started. "I'm so sorry I caused you this much trouble." Amy took his arm and leaned her head against his bicep.

Clara turned to Doug and asked. "I'm so sorry to impose on you like this, but would we be able to speak to our children privately?"

"Certainly, please use my office. There are chairs and a couch in there. It's just through that door over there." He pointed out the doorway for them on the other side of the living room.

"Thank you so much. So sorry to be so rude when we've just arrived at your home." Karl apologized.

"Not at all. I understand family business comes first. Would you care for any refreshments? Water?" he asked.

"Water would be perfect. Thanks!" Karl responded.

Joe and Amy walked across the living room and entered Doug's office. They sat on the couch. Karl and Clara turned around the two chairs in front of Doug's desk to face the sofa. Doug walked in with four bottles of chilled water and put them on the coffee table between the family members.

"If you need anything, please let me know," Doug said. He left to rejoin his other guests, who were now sitting in the living room.

When the door closed, Joe leaned forward. "Have I done something wrong? I'm getting really nervous." He glanced over at Amy, and she also wore a worried expression.

"No, Joe, you haven't done anything wrong. Your mother and I have something we need to tell you. It affects the whole family, so Amy needs to be here too. Saves us the time of explaining it multiple times."

Karl took a deep breath and ran his hands through his short hair.

"Joe, do you remember when Clara and I sat you down to tell you that you were adopted?" he asked.

"Yes. Is that what this is about?"

"Hang on, please. I will explain the whole thing in a moment. I told you we found you in the cornfield, brought you home, and adopted you."

"Yes."

"What I didn't tell you... what we didn't tell you is that the night we found you, it was Sheriff Monroe and I investigating what we thought was some kids throwing a party or maybe an illegal drug operation in the backfield. Instead, we stumbled into something we weren't expecting. Your birth parents were there."

Joe froze, eyes fixed on his father.

"There were three others there as well. But they weren't... human. Before the Sheriff or I could do anything, they killed your parents right before us. They put these small black creatures on their chests. I think they might have been trying to get them to merge, but instead, they burst into flames and just burned up. Turned to ash. I'm so sorry. We tried but had no way to stop it. Then I saw them preparing to do the same to you. I shot the alien and the black creature, injured both badly. But the creature dropped onto your chest... and merged."

Joe was shaking. He looked down at his chest, but his mind was racing. What his father was talking about made no sense. It sounded like gibberish in his ears, but strangely, part of him accepted the information like it was something he'd been expecting. A missing answer to explain his life. He turned his attention back to his Dad, who was still talking.

"The aliens fled, and I ran to you to pick you up. I thought you'd burst into flames like your parents did, but you didn't. Then I took you home."

"Couldn't you take it out?" Joe whispered, pain in his voice.

"Doc Watson ran tests the next day and found no evidence of the creature. We just don't have the technology to deal with that. You were malnourished and very weak when I found you. Maybe only a few days old and terribly frail. It was a miracle you'd survived that far. Then, it was just a matter of keeping you alive as your weakened body had to deal with one crisis after another. We told you about your illnesses and how you pulled through each one. It's my belief that each of these events signaled a step in the integration of the symbiote within you. That's what I believe it is."

"Symbiote? I'm... I'm not human?" Joe whispered, his voice cracking. He'd unconsciously risen to his feet.

"Joe, listen closely. You are human! You were born human, and you think and act as humans do. The most fundamental trait of humanity is how we relate to the world around us through our thoughts and acts. How we interact with others. You are one hundred percent human in that respect. And you look human! Actually, you look like an idealized human. What we could be at our best. I'm guessing, but I believe that may be due to the creature you merged with. It augmented you physically, but we've seen no signs that your mind has been affected in any way."

Joe sat down with a thump, his legs giving out in his daze. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Your mother and I wanted you to have a normal life. To raise you as our son, to give you love and support, and watch you grow. You are our son! We do love you! Parents do what they think is best to protect their children. You can't disclose a secret that you aren't aware of. I'm sorry if that led to any confusion or pain as you grew up. We tried to be there when you had questions. Tried to guide you through things that were different for you."

"Different!?! God! I didn't talk with you about sex. What kid feels comfortable talking with his parents about that? And mine is seriously not normal." He glanced over at Amy, embarrassed. "I meant my sex life."

She snorted loudly in amusement.

And suddenly, he felt a little better. If his sister could laugh at a time like this...

Did she even consider him to be her brother anymore? Now that she knew he was at least part... something else? What was he?

He looked at her and saw the compassion in her eyes. There was no judgment. No fear. She accepted him. That simple.

It was too much for him. The emotions overwhelmed him, and he burst into tears. He wasn't even sure why he was crying. Was he sad for losing his innocent ignorance? Was it anger or pent-up frustration for his parents keeping this from him for so long? Or maybe it was just relief, for he now knew there was a reason for his differences. He dropped his head in his hands and bawled like an infant. Instantly, Amy was leaning against his right side, her cheek on his shoulder and her arm around his back. His mother swooped in on the other side and kissed his left shoulder while rubbing his back as well. He felt his father's hand on his head. Offering him strength. His family. The people who loved him and accepted him. Whatever he was.

Once the tears stopped, and it took a while, Karl sat back in his chair. "Now we have the matter of the NSA. I'm sorry I didn't think you might have trouble going through airport security. One of the aspects of your body appears to be resistance to scanning technology. Doc Watson burnt out many a piece of expensive medical equipment on you. The issue with the Taser is probably an offshoot of that. These anomalies probably lit up the NSA's alert board like a Christmas tree. That's why Christof and Selina are here. I had to tell them as they will be representing you in probably the most important case of your life. They asked me, so I have to ask you, are you willing to keep this secret for as long as necessary?"

Joe looked at his father like he'd just grown horns. He rubbed the last of the tears from his eyes with trembling hands. "The alternative is to tell the world I'm some kind of alien monster? I'll keep the secret, please."

Clara got angry. "Joseph! You are not a monster! You're a special man, human, but more! We don't know what the purpose of that creature was, but we have watched you grow from a sickly infant into a beautiful grown man whose mind and soul are equally beautiful! While I don't know where it came from, I bless the gifts it has given you."

Joe was conflicted. On the one hand, he'd love to believe, as his Mom did, that the symbiote was all beneficial and benevolent, but he hadn't volunteered to be a recipient, and they knew nothing about it.

"I need to know what I am," he said quietly. When his mother went to speak, he raised his finger like he's seen his father do to indicate he wasn't finished. "I will concede that I'm not a monster. I haven't had any abnormal urges to roam the countryside, wreaking mayhem and murder. I think I'm pretty normal based on my behavior, my hopes and desires. Dad, I also get what you said about what it means to be human. But I am different. I can't deny that. Sex is a big part of being human, beginning with a kiss. That's where I've struggled the most. As uncomfortable as it is to talk about this with family, I think you should know."

"I've talked with Amy about the issues I have when I kiss girls, and you two have met Rebecca and Taylor often enough at breakfast to get an inkling that something is different when I go on dates with them. I've been honest with you. I haven't had sex with either of them. I did have sex with Rene. She's the one who's helped me by listening to my fears and providing good advice, but I still don't have all the answers. She did help me identify that the issues I've had with kissing seems to be due to something anatomically different with my tongue. It's like a cattle prod for the nervous system. Thankfully, it only seems to affect the nerves for pleasure. It overloads that part of the brain, and my partners pass out if I'm not careful about reining it in... not that I have total control over that. That's why Melissa wasn't available tonight. She's still asleep, and I'm not sure when she'll be awake."

Amy blushed as her earlier comment was confirmed. A shot of jealousy tore through her, and she pushed it down.

"When the marking showed up on my tongue, I thought they may be a physical clue for the difference, but I'm not sure." he sighed.

"Can I see them?" Clara asked.

Joe carefully stuck his tongue out, and Clara's eyebrows went up. "It looks like a tattoo! Only really finely done."

Facing away from Amy, he didn't see her reach out until her finger and thumb pinched the tip of his tongue, touching the ends of both lines.

Joe's eyes rolled up, and he gasped, choking due to his protruding tongue.

Amy moaned, her muscles spasmed and locked as her eyes rolled back in her head.

Joe knocked Amy's hand away and pulled his tongue back into his mouth. "NO! Dammit, Amy!" His horror and anger turned to concern as she began to slide off the couch. Karl was instantly on his feet and helped Joe scoop her up and lay her on the sofa. She looked so peaceful, but Joe looked destroyed. Clara stood at the foot of the couch with a sad look.

"What the hell did she do that for?" Joe cried, his eyes welling with fresh tears.

Clara stepped forward and took Joe's chin in her small hand. When she was sure she had his undivided attention, she spoke. "Because she's a spirited, willful, mischievous, and very curious young woman who lives with a man who, if he wasn't her brother, she would say was her ideal mate. She's aware of your dates with Rebecca and Taylor, and that curiosity has been burning in her for years. Please forgive her for this one moment of weakness. It changes nothing."

"I-I felt that too! I felt... what she felt!" Joe blurted, shaken to his core.

"It changes nothing, Joseph. She loves you. Always has and always will. But it's a sister's love for her older brother. We had that talk the morning after she got an eyeful of you in the sunroom."

Joe blushed, then sank down to the floor to sit cross-legged beside his sleeping sister. He felt like he'd broken something irreplaceable, and no punishment could compensate for it. He rested his head on the couch beside his sister and quietly sat there.

Clara looked at Karl and motioned to the door. He nodded. "Joseph, we're going to talk with the lawyers. Let us know when Amy wakes up," she said and ran her hand affectionately through his hair.

"We love you, son," Karl added just before they stepped from the room.

As they entered the living room, they saw the three lawyers had been joined by a lovely red-haired woman. Everyone stood, though Clara saw the woman wince and move awkwardly as she joined her brother to meet them. Doug introduced his sister Melissa, who apologized for not greeting them when they arrived. She still seemed a little dazed.

"Has everyone eaten?" Doug asked. Melissa rolled her eyes, but their guests indicated that they hadn't. "Any allergies or requirements I should know about?" he asked. When no one volunteered, he smiled. "I could whip up a quick pasta dish with a savory meat sauce and warm garlic bread if anyone is interested." When he saw smiles all around, he indicated he'd just need fifteen minutes to cook the noodles, and he trotted off to the kitchen.

"I have to warn you. If you tell him you love his cooking, and you will, you may not get to leave," Melissa said with a smirk.

"I heard that!" Doug's voice called out from the kitchen.

They chuckled and retook their seats in the living room.

Clara turned to Melissa and asked, "Joe and Amy have yet to tell us how you met them."

"Oh! Yes, well, I was a flight attendant on their flight from Fargo to LA. I spoke with Joe during the flight—he was a very nervous first-time flyer. I learned they planned to stay at a hotel in a less-than-safe neighborhood. I spoke with Amy, and we made arrangements to meet after we landed so we could go out to dinner and I could recommend a better hotel. Then, there was a power failure at the airport, and Doug met us. He suggested we eat here—no surprise there!" She raised her voice to ensure her brother heard that part and received an indignant "Hey!" from him in the next room. Smiling, she continued. "We did have a lovely meal and conversation. Amy then performed some of her favorite roles for us out on the patio, which took our breath away then we came inside. That's when we saw the news report on TV." She looked around. "Speaking of the dynamic duo, where are they?"

"They just needed some time after our family meeting," Clara said. "They'll be along shortly. I've always been curious; as a flight attendant, you travel so much. Do you have a home base, somewhere you call home?" Clara redirected the conversation, hoping it would give Amy enough time to recover.

-=-

Joe remained on the floor next to the couch, waiting for his sister to wake up. His mind was in turmoil about dealing with this once she woke. He was livid that she'd violated his trust and, truthfully, his body. He didn't know what to do with that anger because he loved Amy as strongly as a brother could. He resolved to do his best to forget that it happened and to forgive her for crossing that line.

"I'm so sorry, Joe."

He looked up and saw tears in his sister's eyes. She was awake. Thank god.

His rage surged up once more, and his eyes snapped to black. She got a good look into the cold, bottomless depths before Joe could look away and throttle his rage back into submission. Amy froze, terrified of her brother for the first time in her life. It wasn't a good feeling.

Joe couldn't look at her, but he did have something to say. "Amy, what you did to me was... beyond wrong. Worse, you broke my heart with one careless action. It will take some time for me to learn to trust you again. I love you, and that's why it hurts so much."

Amy put her hands over her face and started crying. She knew what she had done was wrong. If she could go back and stop herself from doing it, she would... wouldn't she? She wasn't even sure what she was thinking when she did it. One second, they'd been talking about his issues with kissing Rebecca and Taylor, and she felt that stupid flare of jealousy. Then she was thinking of Melissa. Next thing, she was reaching out to feel what they'd felt.

It was more than she expected and better than she could have imagined. It shot up her arm and instantly spread out to take her entire body. Every cell of her screamed in rapture! It was too much, and her mind began to fill with white light from her intensely intimate link with Joe. It was a purely physical bonding at levels where his pleasure and hers couldn't be distinguished. The energies crashed back and forth between them faster than they could respond.

But just before he broke their connection and she slipped into unconsciousness, she felt the echoes of Joe's horror at being raped by his sister. For that's what she'd done. She'd forced an unwanted, sexually intimate experience on him for her own selfish needs.

The recollection of this last moment came crashing back on her. Shame was an incredibly powerful emotion. It rocked Amy, and tears poured from her, trying to wash away her sins. Her sobs hit her so hard she was unable to get a breath. She tried to push away from Joe, unable to deal with the scale of her guilt. Then she was in his arms as he pulled her up from the couch and held her tightly against his chest. She couldn't resist his gentle strength, and she didn't deserve his love, but he gave it anyway. She cried into his shirt and clung to him desperately.

She didn't know how long they remained like that, but when she could breathe again, Joe released her to a sitting position and took her face between his big hands. She looked up into his fierce eyes, deeply angry but a warm, chocolate brown.

"You can never do that again. Do you understand me? That isn't something we can share," he said as he looked deeply into her teary blue eyes. She nodded, but he wasn't satisfied. "Say it."

"Yes, never again. I'm so sorry." Her eyes welled up again.

"Stop. We have to go out there. Mom and Dad need us. We don't have time for this. Time to put on your stage face," he said sternly. She nodded and looked down. Joe could see her centering herself and getting control once more. He let go of her, stood up, and walked to the window. He took some deep cleansing breaths as he looked out into the dusk. Then he was ready to go.

He walked to the door and waited for Amy to follow. He opened it and walked into the living room when she was behind him. He kept his face impassive but was nowhere as skilled as Amy at hiding his true feelings behind masks.

Christof and Selina were in chairs facing him, and Doug was walking back into the living room from the kitchen when they arrived. Joe could see all three make the quick assessment that all was not well. Christof and Selina assumed they understood why he was struggling to keep a neutral expression on his face and connected the signs of Amy's distress to that, so they maintained their friendly look.

Doug, however, took in the stiffness of Joe's back as he walked in, the large tear stain on his shirt, and the lingering redness of Amy's eyes. He couldn't help but become concerned. He'd become a little protective of Amy since she'd dazzled him with that performance on the balcony the night before. He knew better than to interfere in a family quarrel if that's what it was, but he couldn't help his feelings from stirring. "Amy? Joe? Everything okay?"

Amy's calm expression cracked a little hearing his compassionate tone, but she clamped down on that and gave him a small, brittle smile and nod. Joe's Yes was completely unconvincing, but Doug couldn't push it without stepping into something he probably shouldn't. He looked at the group and said, "Uh, dinner's ready if you want to make your way to the dining room."

Everyone got up and moved to the lovely table Doug had set. Before she sat, Clara whispered to Joe, and he looked down at his wet shirt. He nodded and went to get a dry one. When he returned, everyone was seated. Doug was serving penne noodles from a large pot onto people's plates, and a second pot of meat sauce was circulating to those who'd already received their pasta. The mouth-watering scent of freshly baked homemade garlic bread wafted from the kitchen. Joe realized he was famished. He sat between Amy and Melissa and across from his parents. While it wasn't the most comfortable he'd been at a dinner table, his hunger overrode his emotional discomfort.

Melissa smiled at him with a knowing twinkle in her eye, and he couldn't help but grin back, then blush and look away from his mother's too-aware eyes. He heard a quiet snort from Melissa and bit his lip to suppress one of his own. He caught a sad look from Amy out of the corner of his eye, but she concentrated on breaking a piece of hot bread from the loaf when he looked her way. He didn't know how to deal with Amy. He'd have to talk with his Mom. But for now, food!

Soon, everyone was making appreciative noises as they enjoyed the delicious food. Doug cracked open some wine, and only Amy and Karl stuck with water. He claimed to be the designated driver.

Once the pasta plates were cleared, Doug brought out a tray of small bowls of lemon sorbet and berries with a splash of limoncello. More Ooo's and Ahhh's followed by Mmmm's as they enjoyed the dessert, and then the meal was over. Joe and Melissa took clean-up duty, but Clara took her place after only a few minutes as the woman was still too uncomfortable to stand at the kitchen counter.

Now that Joe was alone with his mother, he glanced at the dining room, but everyone else was occupied.

"Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"What am I going to do about Amy? When she looks at me, I'm torn between being furious at how she... did what she did to me and wanting to hug away her sadness. I know she understands the violation, so I don't want her to suffer needlessly... but part of me does. I don't like that part, and I'm having difficulty dealing with it."

Clara turned and looked at her son. "Joseph, you both just need time. Don't hold onto your anger, but don't give in to your need to protect her, either. She did something terribly wrong, and she has to learn there are consequences for her actions. Just remember you love each other, and time will heal this. I promise it will."

Joe looked down and nodded and felt his Mom give him a hug. He treasured that feeling of being loved unconditionally, especially with the conditions he came with. "Love me, love my symbiote?" he thought, shuddering slightly. Clara looked up at him with a questioning look. She must have felt his reaction just then. Joe glanced over his shoulder again, and the coast was still clear.

"How did you deal with the fact when I was a baby that inside me was... this alien thing?" he asked quietly.

"Recall that you were a very tiny baby. We weren't sure if you would survive, and you got sick so many times. But you always had a smile for me, and you gave me such love I couldn't help but love you back. You struggled so hard when you got sick, but you never gave up, and even then, you'd smile when I held you in my arms. There were times when I thought I would have to say goodbye, but you'd pull through and get a little better, a little stronger, after beating each challenge. We believe that was the symbiote preparing you to become the man you eventually became.

If you're feeling squeamish, you can ask your father about mitochondria evolution theory. He explained it to me years ago, so I'm hazy on the details, but it goes something like this. Inside every single cell in our bodies is something called a mitochondria. They are responsible for creating the energy cells need to survive. The theory is that once, a very long time ago, these were separate living creatures that joined with other living creatures. They lived within these other creatures for protection, but in return, they helped their hosts to survive. Today, mitochondria are in every cell of every living thing, helping them live and cannot survive outside these cells. Essentially, we are all carrying around another creature that keeps us alive. Everyone is the same, really. Does that put your mind at rest a little?"

Joe did feel a little better and thanked his Mom.

Christof walked into the kitchen. "Clara, Joseph? Would it be possible to have a brief meeting to prepare for our visit to the NSA tomorrow? Douglas has generously offered the use of his office once more."

They both nodded and followed Christof to the office. Selina was seated behind the desk with a tablet PC active in front of her. Joe saw her busily typing notes on a thin keyboard before the tablet. Karl was seated in a chair facing the desk, and Amy sat on the couch against the wall. Clara joined her daughter, and Christof asked Joe to sit beside his father. Nodding to his colleague, Christof stood next to the desk and began.

"I will contact the NSA tonight and let them know we will be coming to see them tomorrow at ten AM. We are unaware of how much they know, and the general plan for tomorrow will be to limit how much we tell them. If they have nothing significant, we go on our merry way without exposing you. But suppose they decide they have enough to initiate some security directive that may impinge upon your personal freedom. In that case, we must be prepared to disclose sufficient information to show our own security measures have teeth. Our target is to maintain your personal autonomy as much as we can. You represent something not yet identified and protected by our laws, making this very challenging."

"However, as you also represent something that could cause much social upheaval upon disclosure, there will be a strong desire by those requiring social stability to suppress the knowledge of your existence. This can lead to rash actions. For this, we have put in place some preventative measures which I will not describe other than to say the very thing they fear would happen will happen should they take steps to prevent you or us from maintaining our freedom to move as we please."

"Joseph, what I need to discuss with you tonight is nothing less than your future and what you wish to do with your life. After tomorrow, there is a good chance your life will look nothing like what you had intended for yourself. We will do our best to protect you, but you will become the focal point in investigating the aliens who did this to you."

"But I don't know anything!" Joe blurted.

"Indeed, but you are the product of their efforts, which bears much interest. Your father is an eyewitness, the only one now, and he will be requested to give statements regarding what he saw that night. Luckily, he recorded a statement on the night in question, which is incredibly valuable. So, we have something to bargain with. What do you want in return, Joseph? Aside from your freedom. That we will not bargain for."

Joe thought about what he had planned for his life before all this craziness ensued. That was, what... only a day ago? Already, it seemed like a different life. He wanted to learn how to better protect people. That felt... right. It still did.

"I was coming here to learn how to be a better personal security agent. Someone with the skills necessary to protect someone like a celebrity." He looked back at Amy, who was watching him with a strange mixture of guilt and love struggling in her expression. She looked away.

"Ah! This is good! I can work with this." Christof exclaimed. "Anything else?"

"No, well, I wouldn't mind one of those home gym machines like Doug has." he offered.

Christof chuckled. "I meant more along the lines of dreams and aspirations."

"Ah. Okay... I want to know what I am. If I'm going to be poked, prodded, and measured, I want access to that information and people who can explain it to me. I'm not staying in a lab somewhere. I'm as interested in getting to the bottom of this as anyone, and perhaps I have more at stake for the investigation. I will be an active member of the team. I'm willing to work for it, but that, like my freedom, is non-negotiable."

Selina nodded. "This is wise." She gave Joe an approving smile.

"Well said, Joseph. Indeed, this must be so. One moment, please." Christof bent close to Selina, and they exchanged a few words and nodded. Selina made a quick note then they both looked back to the group.

Christof continued. "The meeting with the NSA must be friendly and non-confrontational. This will not be a stretch for you as you are all fine, upstanding citizens with a solid moral grounding. We will not disclose anything regarding Joseph's special nature until I determine there is no tactical advantage in maintaining its secrecy. Is everyone comfortable with this?"

Karl looked over at Joe, who was looking the lawyer in the eye. Finally, he nodded.

"Thank you. Should the disclosure become a requirement, I will define ground rules and again, if necessary, outline that we have taken measures to protect our freedom. This will be delivered non-confrontationally, but make no mistake, we will not bend on the primary goals of Joseph's personal autonomy and freedom. The fact that you are willing to cooperate and assist with their investigation will go a long way toward the success of our negotiations. It will be in the government's and Joseph's interests to maintain secrecy, and the fewer people involved, the better. This includes our hosts, I'm afraid. It is safer for them not to know, yes? If we are lucky, we will meet with someone with a brain in his head and a sense of reason. Selina tells me the director of the Los Angeles office might just be such a man. But I must warn you this may not be the case."

Christof looked to Selina, who said something quietly to her partner. He turned back to the group. "Yes, indeed. Selina reminds me that we should make the call soon. Are there any questions?" Four heads indicated no. "Okay, then we should leave. I have arranged with Douglas to keep Joseph and Amy for one more night. Apparently, he insists on making us all a breakfast we simply cannot miss, and then we will be on our way." That earned him some smiles.

They left the office and thanked Doug and Melissa for their patience, generosity, and hospitality. Then, they promised to return in the morning. Karl and Clara collected hugs from their children, and then they were gone.

Joe was at a loss for what to do next. Everything, his entire life, hinged on what happened in that meeting tomorrow. He felt it in his bones. But until then, all he could do was wait. He wandered back into the living room where Doug, Melissa, and Amy had gone.

He couldn't look at Amy yet without his feelings getting all jumbled. The rage was still too close to the surface. Melissa was easier to look at, but the idea of intimacy was too painful after what Amy had done to him. Doug still looked concerned when he saw Joe's conflicted expression, and he couldn't tell the man why. Maybe it was better that he just be alone.

"I'm heading to bed. It's, uh, been a long day. Thanks for a wonderful meal, Doug! Goodnight!" Joe stumbled through his excuse.

"Goodnight, Joe," Doug said, frankly looking a little relieved.

The two women also said goodnight, but Melissa was more surprised, and Amy just looked sad. He couldn't help either tonight, so he left.

The room Doug loaned him was beautiful and had a wonderful bed. He woke up in the bed this morning, just another young man with a normal life ahead of him. He lay there now, staring at the ceiling, some kind of human-alien hybrid with an uncertain future.

Hours later, exhaustion finally took him.

Chapter 11

Christof informed them in the morning as they drove away from Doug Wilson's building that he had spoken with Director Bannon the previous night. Apparently, the man had been expecting his call. They'd been doing their research. After a brief discussion, Christof arranged to meet at ten AM at the NSA branch office in downtown Los Angeles. He took this to be a positive sign.

After thirty minutes in traffic, Joe wanted to get out and walk the remaining distance. He'd never experienced such insane gridlock. The largest city he'd ever driven through up to this point had been Fargo. He was already tense and had slept fitfully. His neck muscles were stiff, and he tried cracking his neck unsuccessfully. Then he felt hands on his shoulders from the seat behind him. Amy's hands. He started to move away, but she pulled him back in annoyance.

"Joe! Hold still! Just let me work some of the tightness out. It's just a bloody massage." she growled at him quietly. She pitched her voice to keep it to just them.

It did feel good, so he pushed aside his reservations, rested back against his seat, and closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, car doors were opening, and they were in an underground parking lot. He blinked away the sleep and got out of the truck. He tilted his seat forward and helped Amy exit. He thanked her for the massage as she passed him and got a small nod and smile from his sister. He finally noticed the dark smudges under her eyes, and his heart ached a little, but he restrained his natural impulse to hug her. They walked as a group towards the elevator banks, which took them to the lobby. As they approached the main set of elevator banks, they noticed the security checkpoint stationed before them. Christof stopped the group and looked up at Joe.

"The first hurdle in all government facilities. I assume you will not pass through this metal detector without triggering it. I will contact Director Bannon and let him know we are here." He stepped to the side and made the call.

A few minutes later, Joe saw a serious-looking man in a dark gray suit exit an elevator, followed by a tall, slim woman wearing a dark, tailored suit as well. The man nodded a greeting to the security personnel, but the woman was staring at Joe with an intensity that put him off. He was already starting to feel like a specimen under her microscope. The man stopped before Christof, and they shook hands and exchanged a few friendly words. Bannon walked back towards the security station and had to stop and get the woman's attention before she also turned and went through the arch.

Joe noticed they both surrendered their weapons to the guards before they passed through the detector. So, they were meeting armed agents. His feeling of insecurity went up a few notches.

"Okay, we will join the Director and his agent on the other side of the arch and proceed to the meeting room. There are no exceptions to the policy of passing through the security station, so Joseph, please expect to get a pat down on the other side."

Christof and Selina went first, then his parents and Amy. Finally, Joe stepped through, and the alarm went off. He was asked to walk through again, but the same thing happened again. When the man approached him with the wand, Joe knew what to expect and endured the wailing screeches. He glanced over to the female agent, and her ice-blue eyes were practically sparkling with interest. The guard did the pat down and was not gentle. He spent an uncomfortable amount of time ensuring Joe wasn't hiding something in his pants. Finally, Joe looked at the Director and gave him a frustrated look. The director spoke with the security agent, and the man stood back with a grim look but nodded.

Finally, they were all on the elevator, riding it up to one of the upper floors. Joe endured the woman's stare the entire way. Finally, the director noticed and quietly said something that caused her to quickly look away.

Once they entered the conference room, they took seats, the lawyers on Joe and Amy's left side and their parents on their right. Only Director Bannon and the female agent sat on the opposite side. Bannon began with introductions.

"Hello, my name is Roger Bannon. I'm the director of the Los Angeles branch of the NSA. With me is Agent Rachel White from our Washington office." The woman nodded to the others, a slight smile at the corner of her lips. He slid two business cards across the table to the lawyers. Selina collected them and slid their two cards across to the agents.

"Good morning, I'm Christof Waechter, and my partner here is Selina Bergstrӧm. We're from Waechter, Bergstrӧm, and Volkov and represent the Neumann family. To my right are Joseph, Amy, Clara, and Karl Neumann." Each nodded as their name was said.

Bannon cast his eyes over the group of people on the opposite side of the table. "For an interview regarding what Joseph and Amy possibly witnessed at the airport, quite a few people are involved. Especially legal counsel from such a prestigious firm. Was Ms. Volkov unable to attend?"

Christof's smile was polite, but Joe could see the steel in his eyes. "Natalya is standing by in Moscow."

The lawyer wasted no time to begin. "It came to my attention that your agency displayed photos of my clients on television and asked for the public's assistance locating them in the context of some foul play at the Los Angeles International Airport. This was broadcast multiple times a day for the last two days. With the social climate being what it is today, that approach has painted my clients in a rather unfortunate light. Amy was invited to come to Hollywood to begin an acting career. Now, she has this stigma on her name before she even begins. Joseph hoped to get into personal security, but again, his integrity has been put into question. Joseph and Amy did not see the story until hours after it had been presented multiple times. I saw it first and contacted their parents, who in turn reached their children. As the damage was done, I asked them to hold off on contacting you until I could arrange to be with them. I was in New York City, so we could not arrive until last night. I conferred with my clients and contacted you immediately. We intend to clear up this issue with you, and hopefully, we can all be on our way."

Joe noted the expression on the female agent's face gradually changed from smug to barely suppressed rage during Christof's speech. She jolted and then got herself under control when Bannon touched her hand.

"Mr. Waechter, we are investigating the violent assault of two of our NSA agents in a public washroom at LAX. This event also knocked out a large section of the terminal's power and its security and surveillance systems. The very social climate you describe was instigated by similar activity, so you can understand our response was completely justified. The televised statement simply identified them as potential witnesses." Bannon coolly responded.

"Witnesses? LAX is a very busy place. Thousands of people were in the airport at the time of the event, yet my clients were somehow singled out for inclusion in the broadcast when, as you say, the surveillance systems were knocked out. May I ask how they were chosen from amongst the thousands of potential witnesses to have their identities connected to the criminal activity on national television?" Christof asked.

Bannon considered the lawyer. The call for public assistance locating his suspects had been a calculated risk. He rarely used that particular method for exactly the potential ramifications Mr. Waechter mentioned. That said, rarely were the witnesses so well represented legally. Unfortunately, the actions of the personnel under Agent White's direction, starting with the airport security officer in Fargo to the two incompetents from his own office, had left him with few other options. He knew the young man was involved, but security in Fargo didn't properly detain him, and there was a high likelihood that the two men in the hospital hadn't followed authorized procedures. Still, if he didn't open that particular Pandora's Box, there was little else to say in this meeting. He realized Christof had been aware of this from the start and had pushed him into this corner. That was the lawyer's calculated risk. Bannon still had some directives he could invoke to incarcerate the man until they had their answers, but he despised that kind of bullshit and would not resort to them unless there was a clear and present danger to the public.

He sighed, eyes looking down at his hands on the table. When he brought them up, he looked Christof straight in the eye. "I'm going to answer your question in a second. First, though, I will tell you about some events that transpired in the past few days that we believe are directly related. Agent White will display some footage at one point in my statement so you may see it. I will pause at certain intervals for questions you may have or answers you may be able to provide. How does that sound?"

Christof looked at his partner, and she raised her eyebrows. The man then looked at Joe, who nodded.

"This would be fine," the lawyer stated to the director.

Bannon turned to the agent and asked her to connect her tablet to the large monitor at one end of the conference room and queue the footage for when he called. She got up and did so. He turned back to the lawyers when she nodded to indicate her readiness.

"Two days ago, Joseph and Amy were in Fargo preparing to go through security for their flight to Los Angeles. Amy proceeded through the security station with no issue, as we saw her do today downstairs. As we saw in the lobby, Joseph could not go through the metal detector or pass the hand wand test without setting off the alarms. But instead of using the pat down in Fargo, as he experienced today, the security agent led Joseph to a Full Body scanner, which uses Millimeter Wave Scanner technology. They attempted to scan Joseph, but the result was deemed abnormal. When they attempted a second scan, the machine malfunctioned violently. So violently, in fact, that Joseph's shirt was set on fire." Clara gasped, and Karl looked visibly upset. Obviously, this information had not been presented to the parents. The lawyers remained impassive.

Bannon nodded to Rachel, who played the video of the scanning event. On the large screen, it was all the more dramatic. When Joe stepped from the machine with his shirt ablaze, Clara actually cried out.

When the video ended, Agent White rolled it back to the frame that had upset Clara so much and left it there. Her son was almost life-sized on the screen, with flames shooting up from his back and across the back of his head. Bannon nodded to Rachel in approval but kept the smile from his lips.

"This was a terrible event, and as you can clearly see, the back of Joseph's shirt is engulfed in flames which reached to the top of his head. Could you show us the injuries you sustained in that fire, Joseph? How much hair did you lose? Hair burns so easily and quickly."

Christof stepped in before Joe could answer and asked his own question. "Is my client being blamed for destroying the airport scanner? I'm not sure how you could say that, considering the film clearly shows he cooperated fully with the security agents and was rewarded with being set on fire for his efforts. Joseph was lucky to walk away from that with only the loss of the shirt on his back."

"Luck?" Bannon said. "Okay, let's say Joseph was lucky with his encounter with the exploding scanner. To let you know just how lucky he was, understand that cotton burns fairly quickly at a temperature of two-hundred and ten Centigrade or four-hundred and ten Fahrenheit, but lab analysis of the remains of the shirt and careful frame-by-frame review showed the fire consuming the shirt was approximately twice as hot and moving twice as fast. Healthy hair burns at two-hundred and thirty-three Centigrade or four-hundred and fifty-one Fahrenheit, so Joe's luck was... phenomenal. But let's move on. It was a busy day."

"Do you recall an elderly woman on your flight named Eunice Graham? She sat up in First Class, right outside the first-class washroom."

Joe nodded, and his face flushed crimson.

"Ah, I see you do remember her. She's quite a spirited woman and had an interesting, if torrid, tale to share with us when we interviewed her in the hospital last night. We investigated a report that a passenger was taken off your flight on a stretcher. She had a very mild episode of heart arrhythmia after the flight. She got too excited about something... what did she say... oh yes, she grabbed your penis through your pants, didn't she?"

Joe shifted uncomfortably in his chair and just nodded.

"It seems you were having difficulty using the washrooms on the plane because, according to her, it was too big, and you couldn't fit in the small rooms. We found the report of a broken door in the first-class washroom on the plane, and based on Eunice's discovery, you probably were still unable to relieve yourself. That would have made finding a washroom upon landing a priority." Bannon looked for confirmation, but Joe looked at Christof, who just smiled and shook his head.

"Upon landing, you proceeded into the closest washroom, which was directly across from the gate your plane used. The same washroom in which the assault took place. The two agents followed you inside. We know this because Agent White asked them to detain you, and one of the agents sent a two-word text message to her just before entering the washroom. It said got him, but the message never left his phone as the local network was saturated. Agent White asked them to detain you because she was notified of the events at airport security in Fargo. When she discovered that you had not been denied access to the flight as standard operating procedure demands, she contacted the two agents here in Los Angeles. She requested they detain you for questioning upon your arrival. We haven't been able to get a report of what happened in the washroom from them, as the two men remain unconscious from their rather severe injuries. I would welcome hearing your side of these events."

"Could I have a moment with my clients?" Christof asked.

"Of course," Bannon said, gesturing for Rachel to join him outside.

Once the two agents were out of the room, Selina spoke up. "There are several listening devices in this room, so please be aware that the walls do, in fact, have ears."

Karl's eyebrows rose as he assessed the lawyer. "A hobby of mine," she remarked, deadpan.

"So, Director Bannon has presented his case. My initial assessment of the man seems to be holding true. He is driven by truth and fact. A man of reason. I believe this means there is hope. Agent White is the wildcard. She seems particularly driven by something and has been obsessively observing our Joseph here. How are you feeling?"

"I'm nervous as hell. That woman is seriously creeping me out. I feel like she's dissecting me with her eyes, if that makes sense." Joe shuddered.

"It does. I believe we should give them your statement of the events that took place between your arrival at LAX and when you departed the terminal. Do not embellish; be factual and honest. Nothing you did was criminal, so you should have no concern reporting it. Are you comfortable with this?" the lawyer asked.

"Yes, I have no problem with that," Joe replied.

"Amy, are you willing to give your statement of this period if required?" the lawyer asked. He received a nod from her.

Christof gestured, and the two NSA officers entered the room again. "Before we begin, please turn off the screen. The scene is disturbing for a mother to have to witness."

"Oh, right. My apologies." The director nodded to Agent White, who shut down the display and retrieved her tablet.

"Joseph is prepared to give you his statement of the events between their arrival at the terminal and when they left," Christof announced.

Bannon and Rachel looked to Joe, who cleared his throat and began. "Before I start, is Mrs. Graham going to be okay?"

The question caught Bannon by surprise, but he answered. "Yes, she'll be fine."

"That's good. I had no idea why she grabbed me like that, but I'd hate to think she was hurt by it." Joe collected himself before continuing. "You were correct about my needing to use the washroom when we landed. And I did go into the one across the hall. I didn't see anyone following me as I really had to go. I was in the stall for maybe five or six minutes and heard nothing. When I came out of the stall, I noticed two men were in the washroom, one by the door and another by the back wall. I avoided making eye contact as they creeped me out. I washed my hands, and as I turned to get some paper towels, I saw the one by the front door walking closer and pointing something at me. I thought it was a gun, and he shot me with it. There was a terrific flash and explosion, and the lights went out. When I could see again, the man stood before me, but a big chunk of his hand was missing. It was sickening. He stared at it, his eyes rolled back, and he fell to the ground. Then the second guy I'd forgotten about hit me on the head with some kind of antenna."

Bannon interrupted. "Did you say he hit you on the head?"

"Yeah, what he thought he would achieve by hitting me with an antenna, I don't know, but he certainly looked surprised when I turned around. He started pulling something out of his jacket, but I'd already been shot at once, so I punched him in the chest before he freed his hand."

Bannon interrupted again. "You punched him."

Joe looked at Bannon's incredulous expression. "Yes, I punched him. Hard. I thought he was pulling a gun, so I punched him. When I checked to ensure he was breathing, I saw he was holding a gun, so I'm glad I hit him before he shot me. You have to understand I thought they were creeps trying to mug me in the men's room... or worse. I'd heard things about Los Angeles. Things that don't happen in North Dakota."

It was Christof's turn to interrupt Joe. "Then what did you do."

"Right, well, after I ensured the guy was breathing, I noticed my shirt was speckled with bits of the first guy's hand and blood. I also noticed the darts with wires running from them stuck in my shirt, so I guessed I'd been shot with a malfunctioning Taser. I pulled the darts free, but that tore holes in my shirt. Since my shirt was torn and bloody, I took it off and tied it like a tourniquet around the guy's bloody hand. Did I mention his hand was gruesome? Then, I washed myself up as best I could and went to the washroom door. I listened to hear if they had a third mugger waiting outside, but all I heard was people rushing by. I looked out and saw the out-of-order sign on the door, which wasn't there when I entered. I crossed the hall back to Amy and put another shirt on. Then we left the airport." Joe purposefully left Melissa's name out of his statement as instructed.

Bannon was sitting back with a grim expression, but Agent White was practically grinning, and her eyes were bright with interest. The director looked at Christof, who maintained his pleasant countenance. The Director cleared his throat and asked Joe a question.

"At any time did either of the two men identify themselves as NSA officers?" he asked.

"No, sir," Joe replied.

"What did they say?" he asked.

"Nothing, sir. That's what made their attack so creepy. I had no idea who they were. The first one just had this really mean look on his face when he walked towards me. The second one just looked scared. But neither one said a word."

"Do you know what a police issue expandable baton looks like?" Bannon asked Joe.

"No. I don't think I've ever seen one. I don't think the police use them in Glennville," Joe replied.

"Actually, you have seen one. That's what the second agent hit you with. You say he hit you on the head? Was it a glancing blow across the top or the side, maybe hitting your shoulder?"

"No, he hit me right on top of my head. I remember because I ducked automatically after getting hit... which was stupid since he'd already hit me." Joe looked right at Bannon.

"How did you get the darts out of your chest?" the director asked.

"No, they were only stuck on my shirt. The darts didn't stick in me." Joe corrected him.

Bannon looked at Karl, Clara, and finally back to the lawyers. "He doesn't know?"

Karl looked uncomfortable and looked over at Christof, who was watching Joe.

Rachel White was on the edge of her chair, staring at Joe with a kind of feverish joy.

"Sir, would you please ask Agent White to stop looking at me like that?" Joe pleaded.

Bannon looked at Rachel and saw her excitement. He guessed he couldn't blame her, but the boy was right. "Agent White. Please!" he said sternly.

That got through to her. She looked at Bannon's disapproving look and immediately collected herself. He was right. This wasn't a time to lose her professionalism. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

Bannon turned back to the lawyers. "Well?"

"Well what?" Christof asked.

"Seriously. He was shot point blank by a Taser, but the darts wouldn't penetrate, and the gun exploded with more energy than it could possibly produce on its own. We checked. It was standard issue and was functioning normally when it left the office. He's struck with a police baton so hard that the weapon bends, and he barely notices. The man he punched? All his ribs were broken, all of them. The gun was jammed sideways between his ribs, and he must have been thrown across the room because of injuries he sustained on his back as well. Combined with Joseph's inability to pass through metal detectors, his explosive reaction to airport scanning machinery, and his apparently fireproof skin and hair, there is enough here to deserve an answer better than well what."

"That implies an answer is deserved to begin with. If I'm not mistaken, nothing Joseph did was illegal. In fact, much of what was done to him was. He has not put anyone's safety in jeopardy, while the actions of your agents did. He simply wanted to follow his sister to Hollywood and get some training in private security to build on the skills he picked up while working security for a theatre stage troop. And why did he want those skills? To continue to protect his sister as her star rose to the heights it is destined to go. Nothing nefarious in that. Yet here we are in the offices of the NSA, being told it deserves answers. Why? Why do you deserve to disrupt the lives of these fine, upstanding citizens? Never have I met people with a stronger moral and ethical grounding or a higher amount of personal integrity! It is an honor for our firm to represent such people. The NSA was created to protect people like these from threats. Not to treat them like the threat."

Bannon knew Joseph was telling the truth. He'd still have to hear the statements from his agents, but he knew the truth when he heard it. His radar was also telling him the same things about the Neumanns, so he was willing to entertain that what Christof said about them was, again, the truth. However, Joseph was different, significantly so. While not a crime in itself, the why and how might be or may represent a threat to the nation.

He turned to Joe. "You understand it's not humanly possible to deflect a Taser dart, cause a Taser's energy cell to explode like that, or hit someone that hard with just your fist?"

Before Christof could intervene, Joe replied. "So, I've recently discovered." His expression was sad.

"Are we done here? Do you intend to press charges against Joseph for something, or can they attempt to return to their lives?" Christof asked.

"Please don't mistake us for the police, Mr. Waechter. Our mission is nothing less than national security and sometimes beyond those borders. We all understand where this particular scenario fits and what authority our mission grants us. However, let's entertain the idea that the Neumanns are as upstanding as you suggest. There is still the matter of how Joseph came to have these... abilities? Is that even the right word?"

Christof pursed his lips and seemed to come to a decision. He looked at Joe, then turned to the director. "Before we make ANY disclosure, I feel it is necessary to let you know that we have taken certain... precautionary steps to ensure a reasonable level of security, safety, and cooperation may be possible between your organization, the Neumann family, and our law firm. We fully understand the nature of your agency's authority and the risk it poses to the Neumann family's freedom and perhaps even survival." Christof addressed the director.

Bannon locked eyes with the lawyer, each assessing the other. "I'm also aware of what steps my agency might take to ensure information of this nature is restricted. Steps I have insufficient authority to control." He thought for a second. "Ms. Volkov."

"Yes, Ms. Volkov. She is only one facet of the mechanism in place to ensure the future safety of the Neumann family. You seem to be a man of reason, and I'm betting on you also being a man of integrity. Should we proceed, it would be advantageous to the Neumanns to ensure such a man was their point of contact with your agency. Without our precautions, I'm sure neither of you would play any part in future interactions." Christof explained.

Rachel started to protest, but Bannon shut her down immediately. "No, he's right, Rachel. Neither of us would be part of the team. It's a political nightmare, and they have their own people to deal with those. They don't need either of us."

She looked stunned, and Joe saw her trying to figure out possible scenarios. She must have reached the same conclusion as her face took on a rather desperate look. Bannon just nodded at her.

He turned back to the lawyer. "So, this is where the negotiations begin?"

Christof smiled. "Yes. Let's do that."

Joe's cell took that moment to ring. "I'm sorry! I forgot to turn off the ringer." He glanced at the screen. "Damn!"

"Who is it, Joseph?" Clara asked.

"Niki Love," he replied.

Bannon's eyebrows went up. "The pop star? You know Niki Love?" He sounded a little doubtful.

"Uh, yeah. I kinda have a date with her," Joe said shyly.

"Another facet of the mechanism, Mr. Bannon. Young Mr. Neumann met quite a few celebrities during his work as security guard this summer, and many took a keen interest in him." Christof explained. "You'd better take that call, Joseph. If you could postpone the date until tomorrow night, that would be preferable."

Joe nodded and walked to the room's far corner to answer the call.

"Any more surprises, Mr. Waechter?" Bannon asked.

"The surprises are endless with this family, but almost all are delightful!" His grin was broad and genuine.

A few moments later, Joe came back to his seat. "Again, I'm sorry about that. The ringer's off now."

"Your arrangements are made?" Christof asked.

Joe felt a little weird about discussing his date with the lawyer, but he'd been instructed to go with whatever play the lawyer might use, so he answered. "Yes, tomorrow night is good. But it wasn't easy putting her off. She was rather insistent. I had to agree to let her pick the restaurant and where to go after dinner."

Amy snorted loudly, and stage whispered a line from the song Love Shack by the B52s. Karl and Clara tried to suppress the grins fighting to show on their faces. Joe growled at his sister. Then they all realized their location, and the smiles quickly faded.

Bannon caught this exchange and immediately saw the love these people had for each other. His heart ached a little as he recalled a similar joy he'd once shared with his wife. He looked down to see he was rolling his ring. He separated his hands and regrouped.

"Before we start, I must know what protocols are involved in this scenario. That will have a large impact on the direction the agency will take. Are we talking about First Contact? Joseph isn't human, is he."

"Yes, he is!" Clara blurted, and Karl took her hand as she continued. "My son is human. He was born human, but now he is more."

Bannon looked confused. "Would you care to explain that?"

Karl took up the conversation after receiving a nod from Christof. "My wife is correct. Joseph was born to human parents. He was only a few days old when he was exposed to a creature we've come to believe is symbiotic. It merged with the newborn and has altered his body over the years to make it stronger and more durable. We've witnessed no alterations to Joe's mind, however. The modifications appear to be completely physical."

"May I assume this creature was not of terrestrial origin?" Agent White asked.

"I don't know where it came from, but your assumption would likely be correct," Karl answered.

"And was there an apparatus near the location of this creature that might have caused a release of energy?" she asked.

"Again, I don't know if it was mechanical, but there was... something large, which threw off a lot of weird light. I think it was a portal or door. Where it led, I don't know."

Rachel was ecstatic! This was it. Proof of her theories. A description of the event that occurred at the location of one of the gravity anomalies.

Christof raised a hand to get their attention. "It should be noted that the infant who grew into the man we now know as Joseph was not voluntarily exposed to the creature. That he survived the merging is a miracle in itself. His humanity is not to be questioned, and his rights as a human will not be denied. This is non-negotiable. He wants to actively participate in investigating his origin as long as said investigation does not risk his freedom and personal autonomy. He will be granted access to any information discovered about him and to people who can assist with his comprehension.

Additionally, it is paramount that his unique status remains a secret. We desire this as much, if not more, than your agency and the government you work for. This said, we are willing to trigger the global release of our information and circumstances should any steps be taken that risk the lives, freedom, or autonomy of the Neumanns or the principles of Waechter, Bergstrӧm, and Volkov."

"Those are your terms?" the director asked.

"These are our terms," Christof confirmed.

"Before I can get anyone to take you seriously, I will need some proof of his unique physical make up. DNA would be best," Bannon requested.

"Karl, do your medical records for Joseph include a DNA test?" Christof asked.

"You have medical records?" Rachel asked Christof, eager to get access.

"My dear Agent White. There is extensive documentation of every stage of Joseph's life. Once we have negotiated an agreement with your agency and have some assurance of their intention to honor that agreement, you may ask Joseph nicely for the information, and he will likely give it to you, being the genuinely nice fellow he is. It would be helpful if you could see him as a person and not just a lab experiment. We all find that distasteful and disrespectful."

Rachel reeled back from the verbal slap, and her eyes went to the Neumanns staring back at her. Aside from Joseph, who just looked embarrassed, the rest of the family was eyeing her with various levels of anger. She turned to Bannon to see he was also wearing an annoyed expression.

Karl looked over to Christof. "We don't have that type of equipment in Glennville, so no."

Christof looked to Joe. "Would you be willing to give them a DNA sample?"

"Sure. How?"

Bannon looked at Agent White with a raised eyebrow. She nodded.

"Firstly, please accept my apology if I made you feel uncomfortable. No disrespect was intended," Joe nodded to her. "I can take DNA from a swab of the inside of your mouth. Also from bodily fluids such as blood, urine, or semen."

Joe squirmed in embarrassment. "Uh, let's try the swab."

Agent White put a small briefcase on the table and opened it up. She pulled two long tubes from the case and opened one to expose the swab end. Joe leaned forward and opened his mouth, and Rachel rubbed the tip thoroughly against the inside of Joe's cheek. She sealed up the tube and took out a second one. Joe leaned forward again, and she swabbed the inside of the other cheek.

"Typically, I try to get more than one source. Would you be willing to give me a drop of blood?" Rachel asked.

"How do you get it?" he asked.

"It's just a little pin prick on your finger," she said.

"Yeah, that's not going to work," Joe replied.

"Why?" the agent asked.

Instead of explaining it, Joe simply held out his hand. Agent White examined the smooth, blemish-free skin and was surprised to find absolutely no scratches or signs of day-to-day wear. She pulled the blood sampling device from the case and looked at Joe for permission. He nodded, so she poked the sharp edge against his fingertip. Joe didn't wince or pull away, and when she removed the device, there was no sign of a cut. She frowned and tried again, pushing harder this time. Again, Joe made no sign of noticing, nor was his flesh cut. She examined the sharp point and wiped it down. It cut through the cloth.

"Remarkable!" she said. "Is all of your skin this resilient?"

"Yeah, I think so. I don't get cuts or scratches," he replied.

"What if you need medical attention like surgery?" she asked.

Joe thought about the times he'd been in the hospital. He recalled how upset Doc Watson had been and how worried his Dad had looked. He looked over at his Dad. "Does Doc Watson know?" he asked.

"No. He knows he can't take your blood like he did when you were a child, but he doesn't know why."

Joe thought about how good Doc Watson had been to him and how much it must drive him crazy, not knowing why Joe was so different. "Would it be possible to include him in the research team? He obviously knows how to keep a secret."

Christof frowned and said, "That also puts the good doctor at risk, Joseph. He is safer not knowing."

Joe just nodded to that, but he still felt bad. He looked back at Agent White, who looked like she was still hoping for an answer. "I've been injured badly twice, but both times, I just healed with time. The doctor couldn't really do anything for me. He couldn't x-ray me as it broke the machine, couldn't do an ultrasound as that broke the machine, and he couldn't take an EKG as that also broke the machine. At the time, I wasn't aware that was happening."

"Okay, then blood is out. That leaves urine and semen," she said, oblivious to Joe's discomfort.

"Let's just try the swabs you've already taken for now, Rachel," Bannon said, coming to Joe's rescue. She looked disappointed but packed away the sample bottles she had in her hands and put the case away.

Bannon still had questions. Many questions, but the most critical was finding out more about Joe's forced merging with the creature. That sounded like something his agency might consider a threat.

"Can we return to the initial event when Joseph came into contact with the creature? You mentioned it wasn't voluntary. Can you explain what you meant by that?" he asked.

"I can do one better." Christof pulled a USB data stick he'd prepared for the meeting from his pocket. "On this memory stick is Karl's video statement he recorded on the night of the event. He had the incredible presence of mind to make a video describing the events in as much detail as he could recall right after it happened. It is the freshest recollection you will get. This is just the first file of the record Karl made for his son's life. We may watch it now if you'd like, and you may keep the key. This is only the first of a large file set comprising the package we've cached for distribution as a deterrent for bad behavior." He handed the stick to Bannon, who passed it along to an eager Agent White. She reconnected her tablet to the screen and plugged in the memory stick. A window appeared showing the one video file. She launched the video player, and Karl's butt in pajama bottoms appeared on the screen as he walked away from the camera to circle his desk and sit down. Joe, Amy, and Clara all burst out laughing.

"Nice PJs, Dad!" Amy said.

"Hey! The idea to start a video diary came to me as I tried to sleep that night, and I didn't think anyone else would watch it!" Karl growled, clearly embarrassed.

Bannon suppressed a smile and watched the screen. On it, the clearly shaken man described how he and the sheriff had investigated the strange lights in the back field. How they'd come upon a clearing in the cornfield containing a large doorway of light. How they saw three strange beings holding what turned out to be weapons. He described the gun battle and how they'd witnessed the horrifying murder of Joseph's parents. Then he talked about how he'd tried to prevent the infant from being exposed to the creature but ultimately failed. Finally, he spoke of their return to the house and Joe's poor health condition.

It was an excellent recording, and combined with the DNA proof of Joseph's unique physical state, it would be sufficient to get his superior's attention.

"So these beings were hostile. Performing some kind of experiment on humans?" he asked.

"That was certainly my impression," Karl said. "Unfortunately, the only other witness to the event, Sheriff Jeff Monroe, passed away two years ago. I don't know if he made a personal record of the event. I know the police report he made was something that would be more readily ingested. We couldn't report the deaths of the two kids as we had no physical proof, nor could we describe how they died without dredging up the entire mess. It wasn't something Jeff was proud of. He was a straight shooter, but we had no way to prove that it happened. A big circular dead zone in a cornfield isn't proof."

"Dead zone? It isn't still like that, is it?" Agent White asked.

"Yes, it is. I've put a fence around its outside edge. Nothing grows inside the fence. Snow won't collect on the area either." Karl replied.

"Director Bannon, we need to get a team out there to take soil samples, take readings of the background radiation, perhaps excavate the dead zone itself," she said excitedly.

"Yes, we can put that on the to-do list. I suggest that, since nothing has changed in that location for more than two decades, it will hold for now," Roger responded. "Have the beings ever returned to your knowledge?" he asked Karl.

"No. I haven't seen any sign of them since that night," he replied.

Joe was quiet as what he'd heard in his Dad's video went round and round in his mind. The description of how his birth parents had been burned alive from the inside out was particularly disturbing and clung to his mind. He shuddered at the thought of how much they must have suffered. His birth mother had been about Amy's age when these beings took her life. His birth father had only been a little older. They were just kids on the run with a new baby, alone in the world. From what his adoptive parents had told him about them, their lives hadn't been that easy, to begin with, and to end up like that was so unfair. He felt so much impotent rage he trembled. He wanted so badly to get his hands on the bastards who murdered them—

"Joseph? Are you okay, honey?" his mother gently asked.

Joe closed his eyes and took some deep breaths. He felt the rage slide away. Tears ran down his cheeks. "Sorry, Mom. I'm just shaken by how they died." The rage threatened to take him again, so we resumed his deep breathing until he felt himself calm. Clara reached across in front of Amy and gripped his hand. Amy placed her hand on top of theirs.

Bannon looked at Rachel in shock. Her eyes were wide with excitement. "Nictitating membrane, maybe?" she said, describing the blackness they'd just seen take over his eyes. "A protective layer triggered by strong emotion."

Joe noticed then that he'd splintered one of the wood armrests he'd been gripping during the video. He was immediately remorseful. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry about the chair! I'll pay to fix it!" he said to Bannon.

"That's okay, son. It just gives the lab boys one more puzzle to solve." he smiled at Joe.

"Are we done for today? I'm feeling a little drained." Joe asked, looking from Bannon to Christof.

Bannon looked at Agent White, who wore a dismayed expression. He was sure she'd just begun and probably expected they'd work through the day and into the wee hours of the night.

"Yes, we're fine for today. Where are you staying while you're in LA?" Bannon asked.

"We've booked some rooms at the Fairmont in Santa Monica," Christof replied.

"I understand you arrived in a private jet. I'm going to ask you to remain in LA until we can make the required arrangements. We can put you up in a hotel for that interval, but it will be more modest than the Fairmont." Bannon said.

"Director Bannon, we all have busy lives and businesses to return to. We can dedicate no more than a week or two before those lives must resume. That said, Joseph and Amy had arranged to be here for a few months at the very least. Amy has an acting career to begin, and Joseph is looking for training in personal security. I assume your agency could offer him such training, which would also grant you access to the young man for up to eight hours every day until he determines his training is complete. How much time he gives you from that time on is something you can negotiate with him then. We will check in with our young friends daily to ensure the agreement is being honored. Does this sound reasonable?" Christof asked.

"I suppose it will have to do," he replied.

"How much time will you need to prepare for your superiors?" Christof asked.

"Once I have the DNA evidence, I'll probably only need two to three days," Bannon said.

"Then please notify me when you receive the DNA report, as I will schedule a demonstration of our ability to distribute information. Not to worry, the payload in the demonstration will not contain anything sensitive. It will simply provide your superiors with proof that our precautions have teeth," he said with his best lawyer smile, and Bannon fully understood his meaning.

"There is still the matter of removing the stigma your news report has applied to my clients. Selina has graciously prepared a statement you may use that might work nicely for this. You may choose another method, but they must be fully and publicly cleared. That is not negotiable. We've also included a written statement of our terms for the agreement for you to negotiate with your superiors. Selina will also send you the amendment outlining the Neumann's requirement for you and Agent White to head the investigation. This will also be non-negotiable if you are in agreement." When Bannon nodded, Selina made a note on her tablet. Christof pulled a docket from his briefcase and slid it across the table to Bannon.

The director opened the docket and reviewed the pages inside. Aside from the DNA evidence and the video statement on the memory stick, everything he needed was in the docket. He read the prepared statement and chuckled quietly in surprise. It was a plausible cover story that made the agency look good. He was impressed! Bannon nodded at Selina, who returned it with the hint of a smile.

He made a decision in the spirit of cooperation and to show his desire to have that continue. "I'll issue this statement for tonight's news broadcast," he said. That earned him smiles from the other side of the table.

With everything taken care of for their first meeting, they were free to go. Joe's stomach took that moment to announce its need for food.

"And there is the lunch bell," Christof said and received chuckles.

Joe held his cell phone up, facing the two agents. "If you need to reach me, here is my number. If I don't answer, I'm probably asleep."

"Or at the Love Shack!" Amy chirped.

"Amy!" Joe barked.

"Settle down, you two. Let's go get some lunch," Karl said.

Everyone stood up and shook hands with the agents. There was an oddly surreal feeling about the meeting. Something as mundane as shaking hands across a table had such significance as Bannon represented a government agency shaking hands with the first evidence of life from outside of Earth. He felt strangely giddy at the notion.

The whole group took the elevator back down to the lobby and parted there. When the Neumanns and their lawyers got into the elevator for the garage, Bannon turned to face Agent White. That beautiful smile exploded across her face, and she almost hugged him right there in the lobby.

"Agent White! Let's, uh, discuss this upstairs," he said, shaken by her outburst but mostly by how close he'd come to taking her in his own arms. Both of their faces were flushed with embarrassment and excitement. They stepped into the elevator. Now, they had to get the DNA evidence processed. Damn, who was he going to use to do that? They had to keep a lid on this, and every step forward threatened to expose it a little more.

"Sir. Sir?" Agent White touched his arm to pull him from his deep thoughts.

"Hmm? What?" he started. He glanced down at her hand on his arm, and for a moment, he wished she'd leave it there. He looked up into her eyes, and she let go.

"I want to call in my lab technician to run the analysis for us. She's brilliant and completely trustworthy. She's also from the Washington Bureau and has senior-level clearance. She's been working with me on this case for years and followed me from the CIA. We need her skills, and I owe it to her to bring her in."

Bannon saw the hopeful look on Rachel's face and let himself just enjoy it a little before he gave her a brief nod. Again, the thousand-watt smile took his breath away. This time, his reaction might have shown a little before he clamped down control over his expression and turned his face.

"Thank you, sir! You won't be sorry!" she said, and he just nodded.

They arrived on their floor, and Agent White headed to her office to make a call.

He went to his to prepare the most important presentation of his life.

Chapter 12

Christof drove them to the hotel as they had some preparations to take care of. They ordered in some pizzas for lunch and got to work.

Selina and Amy went to Amy's room to work on the payload for the distribution demonstration.

Karl and Clara told Joe they were going to take a nap and headed off to their room.

Christof went to his room to make some calls with his satellite phone. Joe thought he was probably bringing Natalya up to speed on the latest developments, informing her they were safe for now and ensuring she didn't launch the package.

Joe was left to fend for himself with two boxes of pizza. He powered his way through one and a half before he noticed the big smear of sauce on his shirt. Moving to the bathroom sink, he tried to clean the stain but just managed to spread it around. Sighing, he gave up and pulled it off. Time to raid his luggage.

Joe dug through his bag in his bedroom and realized he had no clean shirts left. Either he was dropping food on them, or they were being set on fire, splattered with blood and gore, or spotted with sloppy wine drinking. He dug into the bottom of the bag and found his last shirt. When he pulled it out, he realized it was his black T-shirt from his summer job. Emblazoned across the chest and back in big yellow letters was SECURITY. Joe looked at the shirt with fondness. He had some really good memories from the summer.

He pulled the shirt over his head and stretched it over his broad chest. Since he was getting dressed, he pulled off his jeans, put on his black jeans, and pulled on his black boots to complete the outfit.

Joe needed some new shirts. He looked at a local map on the coffee table in his room and discovered a big mall just a few blocks from the hotel. He looked at the map and got his bearings. He quickly texted Amy to let her know where he was going and headed out.

The weather was amazing, and the sun felt good on his skin. With shades in place, he walked over to Third Street and headed south toward Santa Monica Place, the mall he'd seen on the map. He enjoyed window shopping on the Third Street Promenade. Soon, he saw the large mall and made his way toward the center court, where there seemed to be some event going on. Someone was on a stage belting out a really great song. He recognized the tune but couldn't recall the artist. The crowd was getting really thick, but people made way for him. It felt like he was back on duty at the theatre, and that felt good. He got close to the front of the crowd but stayed over to the side to avoid blocking anyone's view. He could finally see the singer on stage. It was Talia! He'd missed her return visit to the Glennville theatre as he'd been convalescing at home after the tow truck hit him.

Joe watched Talia on the stage and was really impressed by her presence. Pop Star extraordinaire she was tall, beautiful, black, and totally committed to her art and her business. She could be regal in her bearing one minute, knock down sexy the next, and leave you gasping for more. On stage, she was a dynamo, drawing her audience up into her power, and they'd feed it back amplified a thousand-fold. Her personal energy was mesmerizing and maybe a little intimidating at times.

He'd personally felt that energy right up in his face once before. She'd come to see the Shakespeare in the Park play in his hometown. It turned out that what she'd really come to see was Joe. Her friend Niki Love hadn't stopped gushing about Joe after he'd kissed her unconscious when she'd visited a week before.

Watching Talia now in her element was awesome, and she looked amazing! She wore a dazzling silver bolero jacket over a very low-cut crop top and a mid-thigh shimmering metallic skirt. She was already tall, and the four-inch silver stilettos made her seem much more statuesque.

The song ended, and she was right at the edge of the stage, waving at her fans. Joe's instincts kicked in as he watched a group of teenage boys surging forward with their cellphones extended... to shoot pictures up her skirt. Joe saw no security at the stage, so he automatically swept forward and imposed his large body between the boys and the idol. There'd be no panty shots of Talia on the Internet from this show.

"Joe? Joe Neumann?" Talia's voice boomed out over the speakers around him.

"Oh crap," he thought, so much for keeping a low profile. With one final glare at the boys, Joe turned to face the singer.

"Oh my god! It is you! Get up here, baby!" Talia boomed.

Joe could hear voices behind him mentioning his name, and he heard NSA referenced a few times. He looked left and right but couldn't see a way to get to the stage. He motioned for Talia to move back a little. He put his fingertips on the edge of the stage and bent his knees. He sprang up and soon stood on the stage's edge with Talia. She pulled him closer, slid his sunglasses to the top of his head so she could see his eyes, and hugged him.

She held him out at arm's length and grinned. "Joe, what's this nonsense with you and the NSA on TV?" Talia pointed the microphone at his face. He froze for a second, then saw she was giving him a chance to clear his name. He didn't want to mess up the work his lawyers had done, so he'd have to be very careful.

"Right, well, I spoke with them all morning today. Really great people there!" he said, hearing his voice boom out over the crowd.

"But were you and your sister really witnesses to what happened at LAX two days ago?" Talia boomed.

"No, just me. But I'm not at liberty to discuss the case, as it's an ongoing investigation," Joe replied.

Talia put on a face like she was really impressed, then laughed. Joe couldn't help but smile back at her.

"People, let me tell you about the Joe Neumann I know! The day we met, this man saved my life! I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for Joe Neumann!" she said to her audience, and they ate it up! Her fans screamed. They cried. They yelled We love you, Joe! That made him smile in surprise. Talia was beaming at him.

"This man had just met me. He'd known me for less than a minute and leapt off the stage to tackle a crazed gunman looking to shoot me in cold blood. I owe him my life!" she yelled, and her fans ramped up their excitement even more! Joe was stunned by the energy coming off the crowd! He heard his name chanted, and Talia stood there looking at him with a big grin. She seemed to be enjoying the blush slowly rising up his face.

She stalked towards him like a lithe jungle cat approaching its prey and moved in real slow for a deep kiss. Joe had time to prepare for this one, so he was able to suppress most of the surge, but he still felt her gasp into his mouth as their tongues tangled. She was an amazing kisser, but if he didn't stop soon, the show would be over as he felt his control slipping. He pulled away gently, and her lips followed his for a bit, then she slowly rocked back. He was pleased to see she was still fully conscious, if swooning slightly. His face was still flushed from his embarrassment, and he awkwardly glanced at the crowd, who loved every minute of this.

Talia opened her eyes dreamily and turned her face towards the now almost insane fans. She raised the microphone slowly, and the crowd quickly hushed to hear her next words. The anticipation was intense.

"And his kisses... ah baby, there just aren't words. My Big Security Man!" She just shook her head and gazed in wonder at Joe, who was starting to wonder how much damage he'd done to his lawyer's work. Joe desperately wanted to get back to the hotel. He plastered a smile on his face and looked out over the crowd to see the fastest route back.

That's when he noticed the network television trucks. This made him notice the cameras on the mall's upper level and midway back on the floor. He saw logos for the big three and many other specialty channels, mostly media and music-based. So many cameras! Holy fuck was he going to be in trouble!

Joe leaned in and thanked Talia. He told her to be careful of the edge of the stage to avoid the panty shot brigade, and then he told her he had to return to his parents. She gestured off-stage, and an assistant Joe hadn't seen before came over to lead him off. He could hear Talia continuing to work the crowd and blushed when he heard what she said about him.

The assistant pulled out a small tablet, and Joe showed her his phone number and told her where he was staying. She made quick notes, then she handed him off to an angry-looking man Joe recognized as one of her bodyguards.

"Why doesn't Talia have any security before the stage?" Joe asked. "I stopped a bunch of boys from getting some rather choice panty pictures just now."

"Don't fucking tell me how to do my job, punk!" the man snarled.

"I wouldn't have to tell you if you did it properly," Joe replied.

The man was fast. Joe didn't see the fist coming until it hit him on his cheekbone, snapping his head to the left. The man's fist didn't make it too far past Joe's face, though. Joe caught it in his right hand. He looked down and saw the man was wearing some kind of brass knuckles with sharp points carved into each knuckle joint. Nasty weapon.

Joe squeezed the man's hand and felt the brass knuckles collapsing and bending, pinning the guard's hand badly. He screamed as the bones in his hand snapped. Joe let go just as the remaining two bodyguards showed up to help their partner. They immediately backed off when Joe glared at them. He bent down to pick up his sunglasses and walked out the back way.

Sticking to the back streets, Joe made it to the hotel unaccosted. Once in the lobby, he heard the squeals of a few young girls who spotted him and had obviously seen him on TV. He ducked into the elevator and got to his room. He sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. Wincing in pain, he got up and went to look in the bathroom mirror. No cuts. He hadn't expected any, but he was sporting quite a shiner.

He heard a knock on the room's door as he stood there examining the damage. He peered out the peephole and saw his dad, who looked unhappy. Joe opened the door and began apologizing, but his dad just held up his hand and gestured for him to follow. He grabbed his room key and followed his father to Christof's room.

The rest of their group was gathered in the seating area around the TV. On it was one of those Hollywood gossip shows, and the host was gushing about Talia's new unknown heartthrob. The scene cut to show Talia taking her kiss on the stage and the crowd going wild. Joe groaned.

"What happened to your eye, Joe?" Amy asked.

"It ran into the fist of one of Talia's inept bodyguards," he grumbled.

Christof flipped the channel to a local station, and there was the story again, except the scene was caught from a high angle with a somewhat jumpy handheld lens. Christof turned up the sound.

"...exclusive footage of an altercation between Talia's security man and one of her bodyguards caught on amateur camera. You can see an assistant leading the security man off the stage. He appears to be giving her some information then the bodyguard appears. Something is said that the bodyguard does not like, and he responds aggressively. More words are exchanged, and then boom! Did you see that? That guy was fast! But you can see the security man caught his fist. You can see the bodyguard screaming, and his fist is released. I think he was wearing a very heavy set of interlocking rings. Talia's other bodyguards rush in but seem intimidated by the security man who bends down out of view then you see him walk away. Clearly, something was said that angered the bodyguard, but perhaps there's some history between the two men. Very coolly played by Talia's security man." Christof muted the set and turned to Joe, who wore a hangdog expression.

"Joseph, you appear to be a veritable magnet for drama," the lawyer said, but he had a twinkle in his eye. "Karl, Joseph, please have a seat."

When everyone was settled in, Christof stood before Joe. "May I ask what you were doing at the mall?"

"I ran out of shirts and was the only one with nothing to do this afternoon, so I decided to shop. But when I arrived, Talia had a concert in the courtyard, and she spotted me," he explained.

"According to the footage, Joseph, you were right in front of the stage. Larger than life and wearing the security billboard. How could she not notice you?" Christof asked.

"I saw some boys trying to take up-skirt photos of her, and there was no security in front of the stage. Something her bodyguards should have been on top of," Joe growled.

"Hence the harsh words backstage?"

"I just asked him why they weren't covering the crowd," Joe said

"He did not like taking instructions from you?" the lawyer asked.

"And I told him I wouldn't have to give them if he'd done his job right!" Joe said, angry again.

"POW! And that's when he hit you. Was he wearing brass knuckles?" Christof winced when he looked at Joe's eye.

"With spikes carved into each knuckle. Would have torn my face off if I wasn't so thick-skinned," Joe replied with a deadly calm.

"And you took care of this weapon?" Christof asked lightly.

"They're going to have to cut it loose from his hand. He's not going to be able to hide those." Joe said with satisfaction.

"Yet all you have is a black eye! How could that be?" the lawyer asked with an incredulous voice.

Joe froze. He suddenly realized what Christof was doing and was getting at. If the news got out that the bodyguard had been wearing such a deadly weapon and there was clear footage of how hard he'd hit Joe, there would be no way to explain Joe's lack of a serious injury.

Christof picked up the phone and dialed a number. Joe and the others listened to one side of the conversation.

"Hello, Director Bannon? This is Christof Waechter. It seems we may have a small containment issue to resolve. Talia? Yes, we're watching it too. They met at the Glennville Theatre like Niki Love. No. No, today's meeting with Talia was happenstance as Joseph just went to the mall to shop. Yes, he did save her life. We may not have much time, so please let me tell you about the containment issue. No, she's not it. Have you seen the footage of Talia's bodyguard assaulting Joseph? No? Well, it happened directly after the meeting with Talia. The news is all over it, and I'm sure the police will be soon as well. Yes. We need to do something about the weapon he used on Joe. No, Joe is fine outside of a black eye, but when you see the weapon, you will see it should have caused a much more traumatic injury. Yes, it will be hard to explain. Can you take care of this? Yes? Excellent!"

Joe's phone rang, and he saw it was Niki. He groaned and walked into the next room to take the call.

"Hello?" he said as he sat on the end of the bed.

"What the Hell are you doing with Talia? Is this why you put me off until tomorrow? How could you?" she yelled into the phone.

"Niki, meeting Talia today was a surprise. My family just checked us into this hotel, and I realized I needed some clothes. I looked up the closest mall, went there to buy some shirts, and stumbled into her show."

"So, you didn't arrange this with her?" Niki asked, now sounding uncertain.

"What? No, I really had no idea that she'd be there. She called me up on stage and proceeded to embarrass the hell out of me."

"I could see your blush!" Niki teased, obviously already over her earlier outrage. Her rapid mood change made Joe uneasy.

"Right. Like I said, I only went to the mall looking to buy some shirts, and I didn't even get to do that. I have nothing to wear for our date tomorrow."

"Mmmm! Nothing sounds perfect!" Niki purred into the phone.

"Uh, we're going out to dinner, right?" Joe said nervously.

"Oh, sure, we can do that," she said unconvincingly.

"Could it be somewhere quiet? No cameras?" he asked hopefully. Joe recalled that the choice of restaurant was hers.

"Baby, just you leave those details to me. Find yourself something sexy to wear tomorrow. Something you can dance in. Something that comes off fast. Which hotel are you in?" she asked.

"I'm staying at the Fairmont," he replied, his mouth going dry.

"I'll pick you up at ten-thirty tomorrow night. Oh! And we'll be out late." She hung up.

Joe looked at his phone and wondered how he'd gotten himself into this mess. Oh yeah, he'd stupidly blissed her unconscious with a kiss.

He looked up as Christof and his Dad walked in. From the look on their faces, he was sure he wouldn't like what they had to say.

He hung his head. "I'm sorry for messing up so badly today."

Christof looked at Karl and patted the boy on the shoulder. "It isn't so bad, Joseph. The publicity you generated this afternoon should actually work in our favor. We can make it work. Not to worry. That wasn't what we came to speak to you about, though. While I was speaking with Director Bannon, he informed us that the swabs Agent White collected contained no viable cells to take DNA from. She is requesting that she be allowed to collect DNA from... well, a sample of your semen. Based on what they found from the swabs, they're convinced that urine will not yield the cells they need."

Joe didn't know what to say. The idea of getting a sample for that woman gave him a serious case of the creeps.

"When?" he croaked.

"Tomorrow will be fine. We can take you over to the NSA office in the morning." Christof said.

"Speaking of tomorrow, I need to find clothes for my date with Niki. I apparently have to find clothes that look sexy, and I can dance in. I'm not exactly an off-the-rack size, and returning to that mall may not be an option anymore. Any ideas?" Joe asked.

"I have a tailor I use when I'm in LA. Let me call him to see if he can do something for you." the lawyer answered.

Joe wasn't surprised that Christof had a tailor on call in LA as the man dressed immaculately. Always. Joe had never seen him in anything but perfectly fitted, high-quality suits. He wondered if Christof even owned a pair of jeans.

What surprised Joe was when Christof spoke Japanese on the phone to his tailor contact.

"Mr. Fukui will be here in one hour with two assistants and everything they need to make you an outfit for tomorrow. I gave him your rough measurements, and he will do the alterations on whatever he brings to make it fit your body. He is brilliant at what he does." Christof explained.

"Wow! Thanks! Uh, how much is this going to cost me?" Joe asked.

"Mr. Fukui will negotiate the price when he is finished. Not to worry, I will make sure he gives you a fair price. If you'll be out rubbing elbows with the celebrities, you can drop his name and number to any interested parties. That should earn you a discount."

Joe nodded, and the two men left the room. Joe looked back down at his phone. He should call Melissa and Doug to let them know how it went. He had Doug's home number, so he dialed it. Melissa answered.

"Joe? Is that you?" Her voice sounded a little off.

"Yes! Hi, Melissa! Is everything okay with you?" Joe said, worried.

"Yes. I—I was just watching the news, and they said you were making out with Talia on stage and getting into fights with her bodyguards backstage. The last I heard, you were going to speak with the NSA then I saw this. Are you and Talia an item? That would have been something you should have told me before we had our fun. What about Niki Love? Has she seen this?"

Joe sighed. "Sorry, it's been a really busy day. Let me bring you up to speed. I went to speak with the NSA people this morning, and I think that went well. This afternoon, I walked over to the mall to buy some shirts and bumped into Talia. We're not an item. I've only met her twice now. Celebrities move way too fast for my comfort. Niki just called me and was very upset, but she got over it when I told her meeting Talia wasn't planned. Fast. Her rapid mood swings are a little unnerving. I'm going out with her tomorrow night. I asked for it to be low-key, but I don't think she has that in mind."

He heard Melissa chuckle. "Joe, you poor man. Niki Love will give you a crash course in being a celebrity tomorrow. She and Talia may be friends, but you have to know that they compete for everything. Talia drew first blood by kissing you on national television. Now, Niki has to do something bigger and bolder. Did she tell you what she had planned?"

Joe's dread escalated. "Dinner, I think, and dancing. She's picking me up at ten-thirty tomorrow night."

"Okay, I've hung out with a fair number of celebrities from meeting them on flights. I can give you some pointers that might save you a lot of grief tomorrow."

"Yes, please!" Joe pleaded.

Melissa chuckled again. "Okay. Dinner isn't likely, but if you get one, it will likely happen at a trendy eatery where celebrities socialize. She will want maximum exposure to show you are with her now. By dinner, these eateries mean gourmet finger foods with lots of drinks. Eat a good meal before you go, limit your drinks to one an hour or less, and drink bottled water that you open. Avoid any recreational substances she offers you. When she says dancing, that means you'll be hitting up to five or six nightclubs with bottle service at each. Don't leave your drink unattended, as these places are notorious for people slipping a little something extra in your glass when you aren't looking. Catching celebrities tripping out on camera generates money for those bottom feeders. Niki has been the target of this in the past. When you're at the nightclubs, have a good time and dance as much as possible. Niki will have to keep up, which should keep her, and subsequently you, out of trouble. For afterward, bring condoms. Two or three minimum, six to be safe. Oh, and Joe? Get the extra-large size." Joe could hear the smile in her voice when she said that.

"Uh, thanks, Melissa. I'm not sure I can do this," Joe said nervously.

"Do you like to dance?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's fun," he replied.

"Then have fun! Let the lady take you out and show you off, but remember what I said about dancing when you get to the nightclubs! Oh, and one more word of caution! There will be other ladies on the prowl who will try to peel you away from Niki. If you want to spare yourself a lot of drama, keep your eyes on Niki all night."

"Can you come with us?" Joe begged, which made Melissa laugh out loud.

"Ah, Joe, you'll be fine. If you ask nicely, I will take you out for a nice evening on the town that I think might be more your speed."

"How's this? Melissa, it would be my honor if you would accept my invitation for a delightful evening of dining and dancing." Joe said, trying to sound sophisticated.

"Not bad, Romeo!" she said, laughing. "It's a date. Let me know when you can fit me into your busy social calendar. I'll watch the tabloids to track your latest escapades."

"You know I'm not at all like that, right?" Joe asked earnestly.

"I know, Joe. It's fine. I'll talk with you later, okay? Bye!" she said and hung up.

Joe got up and walked out onto the room's balcony. The sun had just set, so he stood there feeling the breeze coming in off the ocean and saw the lights twinkling down the coast. It was really pretty, but he was starting to feel like a fish out of water in this city. He thought about that phrase a bit more and laughed out loud. Here he was, thinking about how far out of his element he was, but without knowing what he was, he really didn't know what his element was, did he. He slumped back on one of the patio chairs and stared at the ocean. He felt uncomfortable contemplating the huge expanse of water. So, he knew water was definitely not his element, at least. He looked back at the city lights and then rested his eyes.

He was next aware of a tiny hand rocking his shoulder. "Joe? Wake up! You have company." He opened his eyes, and Amy was standing next to him.

"Wha—" he said groggily.

"Mr. Waechter's tailor is here. They're inside talking. I was sent here to get you because he needs to start. They've set up in your room. Come on! Get moving!"

Joe stood up and followed his sister into the living room, where Christof was speaking with a well-dressed elderly Japanese man. He turned to look at Joe, and his voice went up an octave as he became quite animated. Christof chuckled and made some placating gestures as he responded to Mr. Fukui's questions. The old tailor stood up and walked up to Joe. He cast a critical eye all over Joe's body. Joe got the distinct impression that the man was capable of taking measurements without using a tape. The tailor was a slim, tiny man with delicate features but was dressed in an immaculate suit. His turtle shell half glasses hung on a fine gold chain against his vest, and a few gold rings adorned his hands. Once satisfied, he barked something at Christof, drawing another chuckle from the lawyer. He marched out of the room and, with a quick glance at Christof, Joe rushed to catch up. He saw Mr. Fukui enter his room, so he followed him in, closing the door as he did.

Joe stopped dead when he saw Mr. Fukui's two assistants. The two young women couldn't be more different from the austere and classically dressed tailor or each other. One had bright pink hair that hung in ringlets down her back, and she had on some kind of pink frilly dress that looked like it was made for a much younger and far less curvy girl. The dress left her arms bare, so he could plainly see her elaborate sleeve tattoos of Japanese pop culture cartoon icons interspersed with candies, stars, rainbows, and cupcakes. The short skirt displayed even more tattoos, which ran down her slim legs to her sparkly pink slippers. She wore large white plastic-framed glasses and white lipstick, which was eye-catching.

Her partner had long, straight deep purple hair which reached down to her ass, and she wore a skin-tight black lycra tank and shorts. Her arms were also bare and displayed tattoos from fingertip to shoulder. Hers had a much darker theme. He saw raven wings, skulls, sad-eyed Valkyrie warriors, and a collection of blood-drenched medieval weapons. There was a fair amount of nudity and violence showing on those arms. Further scenes of epic battles and ravished slave women carried on down her slim legs below her shorts to her black army boots. She wore Goth black makeup and black plastic-rimmed glasses.

He wasn't sure if he should nod or bow, so he did both. "Hello, I'm Joe."

The two girls giggled at his awkwardness. The pink-haired girl introduced herself as Chiyo, and the purple Goth girl indicated her name was Kira. Both scanned his body like Mr. Fukui, but their eyes lingered more than his. Joe noticed they were identical in height and slightly taller than their boss. Where Mr. Fukui was easily in his seventies, Joe guessed the women were maybe eighteen or nineteen, though it was hard to tell due to how they dressed and their makeup.

The tailor said one word, and both girls snapped to attention. They obviously respected the man very much as they listened with total concentration as he spoke quickly to them. A few nods later, they turned to Joe, and Chiyo addressed him. "Undress."

Joe looked around, but they seemed to be waiting for him to do it right there. Joe pulled his shirt off and put it on the back of a chair. He looked back at the girls. Kira pointed to his pants. "Undress."

Joe blushed but dropped his black jeans, keeping his boxers on. For a second, he was worried they would ask him to undress further, but they simply moved forward and began posing him and taking measurements. They were quick and efficient and made notes as they went.

Meanwhile, the tailor inspected a selection of shirts they had brought along. Joe assumed they might tailor a stock shirt, which would be a first for him.

Mr. Fukui would say something to his assistants, and they would step right in against Joe, take this measurement or that, and say something back to the man. He would nod and make some notes of his own. He turned around and pointed to Joe's arms. The two women discussed what he'd said then Chiyo turned to Joe and pantomimed making a muscle. He curled both arms, and they took new measurements. This stirred up something as the man was not happy with their response. They stood back as he came in to make his own. He made Joe drop his arms and took measurements. Then he gestured for Joe to make muscles again as he mumbled something to himself. Joe flexed again, and the man went silent as he made his own measurements. He turned to the two women and bowed his head in their direction. Joe saw they were very pleased by this and bowed their heads in return. The old man leaned in and said something quiet that made them giggle and blush.

The tailor returned to his shirt samples and pushed more than half of them to the side. These weren't going to fit, Joe guessed. There were only four remaining shirts, but the tailor selected one which was a deep, rich crimson. He made some marks on it to indicate where it would need to be cut to follow the taper of his waist.

He pulled out five pairs of black pants with varying cuts and looked at Joe's feet. He said something to Chiyo, who opened a trunk. Inside were several pairs of black shoes. She selected two pairs and a pair of black socks. She placed them at Joe's feet and then listened to some additional directions from Mr. Fukui. She glanced at Kira, then smiled at Joe. The two women knelt at Joe's feet and began reading off measurements to the tailor as he made notes and asked questions.

Joe did math calculations in his head, then tried to think of all the state capitols, anything to distract himself from the sight of the two cute ladies kneeling there. Unfortunately, this wasn't sufficient, and his boxers began to get uncomfortably tight. He could hear the two women suppressing their giggles and gasps. He nearly jumped when Kira wrapped the tape measure around his upper thigh and over his tightly encased member. She read the measurement to Mr. Fukui, and Joe was certain he'd question it as he had the arm measurements, but he didn't seem to blink an eye. The inseam was especially difficult as Chiyo and Kira both took measurements, though only Kira announced hers to Mr. Fukui. Joe guessed that Chiyo had just copped a free feel, and he looked at her. She smiled demurely and took another measurement, making the ladies go wide-eyed and giggle nervously. Then they were done. They stood up and conferred with their boss. Kira turned around to Joe and smiled. "Dress," she said.

He realized there was no way he would squeeze back into his black jeans in his current state, so he dug through his duffel, found a pair of loose track pants, and pulled them on with the shirt he'd just taken off.

The three were busy discussing... something, and it seemed Joe was no longer needed, so he wandered out to his own patio and sat on the lounge chair. He leaned back, closed his eyes briefly, and was gone.

Chapter 13

Joe woke with a start on the lounge chair. He saw it was morning and tried to recall what woke him when he heard his stomach growl loudly. He realized he missed dinner the night before, and he was ravenous! Looking at his phone, he saw it was only six, so he went inside to shower and get changed. He pulled on his least-stained shirt with a frown.

Feeling a little more human... he realized phrases like that had taken on a strange new meaning for him. He looked at himself in the mirror and couldn't see any difference in himself from before his parent's confession. He didn't feel any different either. His stomach growled loudly. Less contemplation and more eating, he chided himself.

He saw no evidence of Mr. Fukui or his assistants in his room before heading downstairs to the restaurant for breakfast, but when he got there, he saw Christof and Selina seated at a table. They waved him over, so he pulled up a table beside theirs. A waitress was immediately at his elbow, so he ordered the pancakes... and the steak and eggs. With toast. And bacon. And some fruit.

Christof and Selina were smiling at the size of the order he'd just placed as they both had some yogurt and fruit before them.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep last night and didn't see Mr. Fukui or his assistants leave," Joe explained.

"Yes, they mentioned they couldn't wake you, so they came by to let me know you'll receive the clothes this afternoon. Stan was very impressed with your symmetry and proportions. He was quite excited by the challenge you presented. What did you think of his granddaughters?"

"Granddaughters?!?" Joe gasped.

"Yes, they are showing tremendous promise in becoming equally skilled as their grandfather. He took them under his wing a few years ago when they were very rebellious. They settled down, and so far, they have exceeded expectations. They make a formidable team, don't they!"

"They're pretty amazing, all right!" Joe agreed. "I have no clothes. I'll try heading to the mall again just to get some T-shirts and shorts. Some casual stuff. I should have packed more. Do I have time before we head over to the NSA building?"

"Stores won't open until nine, and it's only seven now. We should meet with Director Bannon and Agent White by ten-thirty. You should be able to fit in a little shopping in there somewhere. Try to avoid the press," Christof asked with a smile, and Joe nodded sheepishly.

His enormous breakfast arrived, and he concentrated on recharging. Christof and Selina went back to discussing business as Joe savored his meal. When he finally pushed away from the table, he felt blissfully sated. His tummy was silent at last.

He looked at the time and realized he had an hour and a half before the stores opened. He decided to go for a walk on the beach. He informed the lawyers that he'd meet them in the lobby by ten, then headed back upstairs to brush his teeth, switch into his shorts and runners, and grab his shades and hat. He walked down the road to a pedestrian bridge over the road and crossed it to the beach. It was still pretty warm for the end of October, and he saw a lot of bare skin on the joggers and inline skaters but not so much on the cyclists and walkers. Pulling off his shirt, he tucked it through his belt and pulled his hat down a little lower over his face to avoid being recognized. He received his fair share of attention from people, but Joe began to relax when he realized no one identified him as the Security Man from Talia's concert. Joe had no desire to walk closer to the ocean, so he stuck to the Ocean Front Walk. He set his phone's alarm to alert him to turn around so he could do his shopping and started to jog slowly. He gradually picked up the pace and was soon at a nice ground-eating run. He began to get into the zone where his surroundings started to fade out when his alarm went off. He slowed his run to a jog, then walked, and turned around to head back.

He heard the clang of metal plates banging together, and his eyes were immediately drawn to the source of the sound. There was an outdoor gym on the beach! He noted the location and then picked up the pace for the run back.

When he got closer to the mall, he slipped his shirt on and returned to the main road. He went in the direction of the mall and spotted a drugstore. Remembering what Melissa said about his evening's last activity, he went inside and was confronted by a nightmare of choices. He finally settled on a couple of three-packs of XL condoms. He made it to the mall without further delays and nervously peered around. Again, no one noticed him, so he breathed a sigh of relief and headed into a promising store. They had some really nice shirts but, as usual, nothing in his size. Giving up on the shop, he headed to a sport and fitness wear shop and found shorts and some really stretchy running shirts in black, red, and dark blue. They looked better than your average T-shirt but weren't in the dress casual category. He bought them anyway.

Joe lost the urge to keep looking when he noticed that he was beginning to attract attention. When he heard Security Man a few times, he knew it was time to head back to the hotel, so he ducked out and made his way back. The return trip was thankfully uneventful, but as he entered the building, the two young teen girls from the day before stopped him in the lobby and begged him for a photo opportunity. They were so cute. Joe granted their wish and ended up in a series of selfies on both of their cell phones of them making silly faces. Finally, he bid them goodbye and escaped to the elevator. In his room, he quickly freshened up and changed into one of the new shirts, the black one, and a pair of black shorts. He texted Amy, but she didn't answer. He noticed it was almost ten, so he went back downstairs.

He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched as he waited in the lobby. He slipped his shades on and glanced around casually, but no one appeared to notice him. He put it down to nerves from his close call in the mall, but the feeling didn't go away. A few minutes later, his parents showed up with Christof and Selina. He asked where Amy was and was told she had been picked up earlier by Doug Wilson to visit his agent friend. Joe felt slightly out of sorts about Amy's lack of response, but he knew he had to give her some space, too.

They piled into the rental and headed over to the NSA building. Joe still couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. He glanced over his shoulder several times and peered at the cars behind them.

"What's the matter, Joe?" Christof asked, seeing Joe's unease.

"I don't know. Maybe it's nothing, but I have this creepy feeling of being watched. It started at the mall when some people recognized me. It went away but got worse when I waited for you in the lobby, and I still feel it." He glanced at the cars behind them once more. They pulled into the underground garage and parked.

Joe got out and looked around. The feeling was gone. Maybe he was just nervous about what he was about to do, and his nerves were jangled.

He shook it off and walked with the others to the elevators. Christof called Director Bannon again, and once he was off the elevator, the group went through the security station. Joe had to endure another pat down from Mr. Handsy before Director Bannon came to his rescue again.

Once upstairs, Agent White met them in the elevator lobby and led them through some security doors to a well-appointed lab. In the lab was a person they hadn't met before. Director Bannon introduced her as Senior Forensic Pathologist Safa Neema from the Washington Bureau. Agent White took over by outlining that to ensure they contained the information, they needed experts in the fields that the investigation would draw upon. She indicated that Safa would be part of their team.

The Forensic Pathologist stepped forward with slow precision. She looked at the lawyers, then the Neumanns, and stopped at Joe. They examined each other. Safa appeared to be in her thirties and was maybe five foot six. She had short, curly black hair, a bold hawk nose, pale green eyes that looked just a little too big for her face, and full lips that she seemed to be pressing together in a constant frown. She was skeletally thin, and Joe wondered if she needed to occasionally tear herself away from her work to eat.

"Hello," she said quietly and stepped back.

Agent White explained that she wanted them to see what she meant by his saliva not being a good source. She had a screen connected to a microscope. She asked Joe for another swab exam, and he opened his mouth. Safa stepped forward and took the sample. She immediately transferred that to a slide and put it under the scope.

Safa's voice was soft, but it carried across the lab. "Firstly, please note that there is a remarkably small quantity of epithelial cells. Almost none, actually, and the cells we find rapidly break down into their base components and decay into a useless chemical mush in minutes once separated from the subject. This is atypical behavior. This necrotic breakdown doesn't normally happen this quickly. As such, there isn't enough time to get a viable sampling of DNA from this. As urine is just another source of epithelial cells, the only viable source remaining to us is semen."

"Uh, how am I supposed to collect the sample?" Joe asked, embarrassed to talk about this in front of everyone, especially his parents.

Agent White opened a desk drawer and pulled out a plastic bag with a cupid silhouette on the side. "I took the liberty of purchasing a selection of adult magazines and a masturbatory device. I confirmed that the device is sterile and the lubricant supplied will not impact the quality of the sample. She smiled as she handed the bag to Joe, whose face was well on its way to a lovely shade of scarlet. "There is a washroom two doors down the hall for privacy. Just knock on the lab door when you are ready to return".

She opened the door, and Joe shuffled out into the hall with his bag. He breathed a sigh of relief that the hall was empty. Joe chose the largest stall in the washroom and pulled the reading material from the bag. Two mainstream softcore girly magazines and three hardcore porn rags. Joe opened the box on the masturbation sleeve and read the instructions. Seemed simple enough. He opened the lubricant and poured a good quantity inside the opening. He looked at the magazines but decided his imagination would have to work for him. He recalled his excitement from the evening before and felt himself respond. He allowed the memories to build, and soon, he was ready to try the tool. He pushed himself inside and heard the plastic creak. He put that out of his mind and concentrated on the sensation and his memories.

It took much longer than expected, but he finally achieved his goal and filled the interior with his sample. After he cleaned himself off, he headed back to the lab and knocked on the door. Agent White opened it, and Safa eagerly accepted the device from his hand. She quickly stepped over to the microscope and repeated the earlier test. As uncomfortable as he was with what they were all looking at, he found it fascinating.

The pathologist was mumbling to herself. "Oh!" she said in surprise, the loudest sound she'd made yet.

"What is it?" Rachel asked.

Safa looked over at Agent White. Her mouth was working, but no sound was coming out. She looked in the microscope again, then put the slide aside and made a second one, which went under the scope. Once more, she looked up at Rachel but still couldn't speak. Joe saw Bannon appeared worried. He glanced at the screen and tried to determine what she saw that confused her. Nothing was moving in the sample. That was clue number one.

"Shouldn't we be seeing movement?" Joe asked. "Is the microscope set to the right magnification?"

Safa seemed to come out of her shock. "Uh... ahem. The microscope is set to the required magnification to observe spermatozoa. You... don't have any. At least, none I can see. I think what we're seeing here are...." She adjusted the microscope to increase its magnification slightly to show a cluster of dozens of round shapes and continued to address the group. "Eggs. You appear to be carrying what, in human terms, would be the female component of a reproductive package. There is good news, though. The cells remain viable. I believe I will be able to successfully extract the DNA sample from this."

"Eggs?" Joe croaked.

"So... are you saying he's incompatible with a human reproductive system?" Bannon asked.

Safa looked again, then nodded. "I need additional time for a more in-depth analysis, but he is likely not. There are no spermatozoa. Instead, we have what I believe are eggs. Lots and lots of eggs. He may not be compatible with human women, but I cannot say for sure if these eggs are incompatible with human sperm. However, they are much smaller than human eggs and are differently constructed. I'd need to attempt an in vitro fertilization to be sure. Of course, the DNA test will be the final say on genetic compatibility.

Agent White's expression showed her excitement and satisfaction with her friend's findings. This was the proof that would get this investigation off the ground. If they didn't get buried first. That was something to think about. She relied on Bannon to handle that. Well... Roger and the lawyers.

Joe's legs felt wobbly, so he sat down with a thump on the nearest chair. He'd held out some hope that this test would bring him some confirmation of normality, a sign that he was more human than... other. Instead, he'd received a harsh slap from reality. Joe looked at the monitor again.

Eggs. Freaking eggs. What the hell was he?

"How soon will you complete your DNA test?" he asked. His face was ashen.

"The initial tests should be done in a day, perhaps two." Agent White said, and Safa nodded.

"I want a copy of that report for Christof and Selina," Joe said with a grim determination.

Bannon looked at the lawyers, who looked pleased with their young client. "All right."

"Do you have a tail on me?" Joe asked, turning to the director.

Roger paused as he studied Joe. "Standard procedure," he said.

"Take them off or make them more obvious. I could tell I was being watched, but I couldn't tell who was doing it, and that set my nerves off. I didn't like it." Joe glared at Bannon, his agitation making him irritable. Bannon looked surprised.

"Joseph!" Clara admonished.

Joe looked at his mother and deflated a little.

"No, Clara, he's justified in his frustration. There was no agreement to have surveillance on Joseph," Christof said, looking towards Director Bannon. "Joseph has already indicated his willingness to cooperate and has proven this just now. He actively participated in your uncomfortable invasion of his personal privacy. To have it forced upon him is not acceptable. You will cease this immediately."

"That's not really an option. Joseph represents something unprecedented. He's physical proof of alien contact. Unfriendly contact, potentially. As such, he's an asset to our government, which must be protected. Surveillance is for his protection as much as anything else. We've agreed that information on Joseph must be limited, but keeping a lid on something this large will be incredibly difficult. Just the effort to keep the secret is going to attract attention. He might become the target of foreign government agencies who won't be so willing to give him so much freedom." Bannon explained.

"Christof, I'm okay with the surveillance. I get what Director Bannon is saying, and I've also had those concerns in the back of my mind. I can accept that," Joe said and turned to Bannon. "But you have to understand that I can feel them watching. I don't know how. There's more than one doing it, right?" Bannon nodded, surprised again. "It gives me the creeps, and it's hard to act natural when I feel like that. That feeling might disappear if I knew who was supposed to be watching. Maybe I could even tell when someone else was watching, too."

He could see Bannon relax. Obviously, he couldn't back down on the surveillance, and Joe could almost see his gratitude when Joe let him off the hook.

Roger nodded. "I've been loaned a team of asset managers. They are the very best we have. I had to call in some favors as getting them without explaining why I needed them was... unorthodox. This means flags will already have been raised, but I really saw no other option. And Joseph's... televised activities have further complicated things for me. Putting this team on a celebrity isn't seen very well by the chain of command, but I'll deal with that when the time comes."

"I'm curious as to how you detected them. Your inability to identify them tells me they were doing their job, but I'm unsure how to feel about their being made. It's something they are going to want to know as well. They're not aware of your special status and won't be told. They're professionals, so they won't ask. I'm going to ask them to come to the conference room." the director explained. He made a quick call and said a few words into the phone.

Agent White indicated she had something to say. They turned towards her.

"The forensic analysis of the sample on the police baton came back. They could not identify the fiber stuck in the joint of the baton. Joseph claimed to have been struck over the head. The report indicates the fiber is black in color. I'm assuming this fiber is actually one of Joe's hairs. Would it be possible to get a hair sample to match it to?"

Joe looked at the agent and took in her eager expression. "Not today," was all he said.

She looked disappointed but, after a glance at Bannon, backed off.

"Maybe we could get a sample after your next haircut?" Bannon suggested, but Joe slumped in his chair a little more.

"Joseph doesn't get haircuts," Karl said, looking at his son, who was absorbing one more truth about himself that he hadn't recognized and his parents had kept from him. "Joe's hair doesn't get any longer than you see. Never has."

"And it doesn't burn," Agent White said.

"I guess not," Karl acknowledged.

Clara approached her son and ran her fingers through his hair affectionately. He looked up at his Mom, and she could see the pain in his eyes. "Can you forgive us, Joseph?" she asked quietly.

Joe closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her tiny palm. He opened them again, and some of the pain was gone. "I know you guys love me. I know you were doing it to keep me safe and to give me a normal life. And it worked for the most part. I've had a wonderful life so far and have you two to thank for that. I know it must have been very hard for both of you to carry this for so long. I don't know what I would have done with this information when I was younger. I probably would have blown the secret long ago."

He looked at his Dad and then back to his Mom. "I'm trying to see what my life will be going forward, and each time I think I can see its shape, something new is disclosed about my... nature, and that future slips away. I'm human in my heart and have all of the usual hopes and desires. Do something that makes me happy and brings me fulfillment, like Dad has with the farm. Find a special woman to share my life with. Build a home for us. Start a family and give you grandchil—" Joe choked at this point and leaned forward to hug his mother's waist as the tears burst forth.

Karl moved to join his wife, and both rested their hands on Joe's shoulders as he mourned for the loss of the children he would never have. The grandchildren he would never bless his parents with.

Christof and Selina had tears in their eyes, but they pulled crisp handkerchiefs out to dab them away. They waited solemnly for their client to recompose himself.

Safa's large eyes got glassy with tears. She dabbed them and turned away to keep herself busy, preparing the DNA test.

Even Rachel was quiet and waited as Joe struggled to cope with the onslaught of emotion this latest revelation had pulled from him.

Karl pulled some tissues from his pocket and handed them to his son. Joe wiped at his eyes and took some deep breaths. When he was ready, he stood up and followed Bannon back to the conference room. Agent White remained with Safa, but Christof, Selina, and his parents came with them as far as the elevator lobby, where they took seats.

Joe followed Bannon into the conference room. Seated there facing the door were a man and a woman. Both were of average height and build. The woman had blond hair tied in a short ponytail, she was reasonably attractive, and her hazel eyes showed a sharp intellect. She immediately saw Joe's puffy eyes and the tissues crushed in his fist and glanced quickly at her partner.

His face had a little more character in that his nose showed that it had likely been broken on more than one occasion. His hair was salt and pepper with silver at the temples. Grey eyes with the same keen intellect shared the look he'd received from the woman.

Something clicked in Joe's mind. "You were tending the plants in the lobby," he told the man. Addressing the woman, he said, "You were delivering a package to the reception desk." Both nodded almost imperceptibly. "The white van with the green letters and the grey courier truck that alternated following us here." Joe continued.

Bannon looked at the two agents and tried to read their expressions. Not a thing showed. He turned to Joe. "When did you make them?"

"Like I said before, I felt them watching me in the hotel lobby and while we drove here, but I didn't know it was these two until just now. It kind of just clicked in my memory." Joe explained.

The man spoke for the first time. "But we aren't wearing the same uniforms now."

Joe thought about it. What had made him make the connection? He examined the memory to see what stood out. "Your salt and pepper hair and the scar on your right cheek. Her slender hands and her thumb ring."

The two agents shared a look, and the woman smirked. "I told you that your distinguished hair would catch too much attention," she said.

"Says the woman with the thumb ring he noticed," he smirked back. "Eidetic memory?" he asked Joe.

"What?"

"Photographic memory. Are you a memory savant?" the agent explained.

"Oh! No, I don't normally recall so much detail, but I guess I was on edge from knowing I was being watched, and everything just feels a little sharper." Joe guessed.

"How did you know? I'm not bragging when I say we're as good as it gets when it comes to discreet surveillance. No one has ever detected us before. I'm kind of proud of that. I'd hate to think we're losing our edge." the male agent said.

Joe looked at Bannon with a frustrated look and raised an eyebrow. He shook his head to tell the director he had no idea and couldn't answer without blowing the secret.

"Joseph is a little more perceptive of his surroundings when agitated. Being visibly tracked by shoppers in the mall probably triggered this for him. I assume you were there as well?" They nodded.

"As our cover is blown, I assume we've been released?" the female agent asked.

"No, we'd like you to continue. We still need to ensure his safety from outside interests. Additionally, now that Joseph can identify you, we'd like to see if his perception picks up other watchers should any surface. While he is aware of you, he won't acknowledge you."

The two agents looked at each other, and Joe could see they were communicating in subtle gestures. It was fascinating to watch. Finally, the man turned to address Bannon.

"It's not how we normally work. Having the target aware of us means he could give us away. That increases our risk. You might be better off with a new team."

"I'm going to know they're there but not who they are, and that's very disturbing. I can't act naturally when I'm agitated like that, either. But putting you at risk is not an option. Director Bannon, we should just drop the surveillance," Joe said.

"I can't do that," he replied.

"Hang on, I never said we couldn't do it. I just said there was an increased risk, which depends on you. We can do a simple test to see how this could work. Test your reaction to our being nearby. If you register our presence perceptibly, then it won't work. Otherwise, we'll see. We can start the test at the mall to re-establish the earlier pattern. We won't be dressed or look the same, so I'd be interested if you'd pick us up again. We'll give you a communications piece that looks just like a cell Bluetooth headset. The idea is for you to not perceptibly give us away. You indicate if you spot us by talking into the headset like you are having a friendly conversation with someone on the phone. We will move into and out of your view and watch your reactions."

"Okay, sure. Uh, can I get your names?" Joe asked.

The agents shared another look. "It's better if you don't. We shouldn't have been in your perception at all. Knowing our names makes it harder for you to ignore us. Let's try this for now, okay?"

"Oh, all right." Joe acknowledged. He needed a name, so he decided to call the man Pepper and the woman Ringo.

The woman handed Joe a headset. "Put this on when you get to the mall. Press the green button until it lights up. That's it. Try it now."

Joe put the headset in his ear and pressed the button. There was an unholy screech, and Joe yanked the device from his ear only to see a tiny puff of smoke escape from it. "Oh, sorry." He handed the dead device back to the agent.

Jumping in, Bannon suggested they do the test without the device and just debrief afterward so Joe could tell them when he noticed them.

The two agents nodded and left the office.

Bannon addressed Joe. "I'm sorry to have given you that news this morning. I recognize it must have come as a shock. If you need someone to talk to, you are surrounded by a family who obviously care for you deeply. You also have your legal counsel, who've demonstrated they have your best interests at heart. Additionally, I'd like you to know that I'm available twenty-four-seven should you have any questions I can help with or if you just need to talk."

Joe was grateful for the man's compassionate words and thanked him.

The meeting was over, and they returned to the others waiting for them. Christof and Roger made plans to get together once more when the DNA evidence was ready.

When he got in the car, Joe slipped his shades on. He reached for the sensation of being watched. Nothing, but they were still in the secure building. When they pulled out of the garage, Joe still felt nothing. He stopped trying and just tried to shake the darkness from his spirit caused by the latest discovery of his physical nature.

Christof let Joe out at the curb next to the mall's south end. Joe walked into the mall courtyard and decided he would grab some lunch. There was a restaurant with outdoor seating with a few tables open. He stepped inside, and the dim light made him push his shades onto his head. The hostess greeted him and smiled up at him. He asked for a table for one outside, and she checked her floor plan. Then, she brought him to a table under an umbrella by the patio's edge. The woman palmed the Reserved marker from the table and told Joe her name was Sasha, and he should ask for her if he needed anything. He smiled and nodded to her as she left.

Joe felt bad about scooping someone's reserved table, but he let himself be a little selfish in his current mood.

He felt a familiar tickle. He was being watched. He slipped his shades back on, scanned the tables around him, and saw two women a few tables away glancing in his direction as they sipped from their drinks. It didn't feel like them. Casual interest didn't seem to do it. The tickle got worse, and Joe's frayed nerves kicked his unease upwards in intensity. Behind his shades, Joe's eyes snapped into blackness, and his surroundings switched into sharp focus as colors dimmed. He was conscious of the change for the first time in his life. He marveled at the difference. Small movements became noticeable. He glanced over his shoulder and caught a flash of the area behind him. He sorted through the people in the image his memory trapped and recognized Pepper on the upper level of the parking garage. He was wearing a hat and using binoculars, but something made Joe recognize the man. Glancing forward, Joe caught the motion of Ringo walking by, so he picked up his menu as a waitress arrived at his table. Joe ordered a Pina Colada and asked for some loaded nachos to start. His eyes hadn't reverted, but the waitress couldn't tell through the dark lenses. Joe realized with his heightened perception of detail that he could see the motion of her pulse on her neck and that her heart rate seemed a little fast. He caught himself staring at her, drinking in the rich detail he was now aware of. She made her note on her little pad, and Joe could tell she was getting excited. She licked her lips and informed him she'd be right back. As she left, she put an extra sway in her hips.

Looking away, Joe blinked a few times and shook his head quickly to snap out of his daze. He'd never consciously used his sight that way, and it left him a little confused. He felt much more aggressive when he did it, like some kind of predator. That was so not him. He didn't know where it came from. The drink and nachos arrived, and Joe nodded and smiled at the waitress, trying to hide his embarrassment. She smiled back and walked away, giving him another show and a smile over her shoulder.

Joe tried the drink and found it to be delicious! He began on the nachos and cast an occasional look around casually. He hadn't felt a repeat of the feeling of being watched, which meant he could enjoy the food. The waitress returned once Joe had made his way through half of the nachos, and he ordered a burger, salad, and a glass of water as he was starting to feel the alcohol. She was impressed by his appetite.

The tickle flared again, and Joe snapped his eyes back to black. He clearly saw Pepper standing in the shadows of the darkened doorway of the restaurant, but no sign of Ringo. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a strange motion from a woman a table away and slightly behind him. When he turned to face her, she abruptly stood up and casually walked back into the restaurant from the patio. Joe knew she wasn't Ringo in disguise as her body shape was wrong. He went over the memory of what he'd seen her doing. She'd pointed her pen at him under her other hand and was clicking it. Joe blinked his eyes back to normal and looked down at himself. He spotted a thin metal pin stuck to his shirt. He took his napkin, plucked the pin from his shirt, and examined it. It was just a sharp, thin needle. The napkin soaked up something wet from the needle, so it must have been coated with something. Joe looked down and spotted two more pins on the ground. Joe used his knife to flick them into the napkin with the first one. When the waitress arrived at the table with his burger and salad, he asked her to package the food to go and for a small piece of plastic wrap. Moments later, she returned with containers for the food, a bag to carry it in, and some plastic wrap. He asked for the bill, and when she left, he slipped the napkin into the plastic wrap and tucked it into a pocket.

He settled up the bill and bid the waitress and hostess goodbye. Joe immediately set his course for the hotel. He definitely had the sensation of being watched now. Multiple watchers. He also stuck to the main streets where there was a good amount of traffic and a few pedestrians. He noticed a man walking along with a cane, but something about how he held it was off. Joe passed him and stepped off the curb to cross the road.

Suddenly, a white van swerved in front of him, the side door flying open. The man behind him lunged forward to jam the point of the cane between his shoulder blades. There was a huge flash and cracking explosion, which pushed Joe forward. The two masked men in the back of the vehicle weren't expecting him to be conscious when he hit the van. They were dazed by the explosion and didn't see Joe swing both arms up and slam his entire body weight into the top of the door frame. Joe pushed with all his strength. Metal bent and screeched, and the van rolled onto its side, tossing the passengers around.

Joe glanced over his shoulder and saw the carnage he was expecting. The man with the shock stick cane was missing the lower half of his right arm and showed serious burn wounds on his torso. Joe heard groans from the overturned van, so he ran as fast as he could for the hotel. Just before he got there, he saw Pepper racing up in a grey sedan. Joe went straight through the lobby to the elevators where Ringo had one waiting. Pepper joined them, and they immediately went up to his room. The agents pulled their guns and checked the hallway and his room before he was allowed in. Once inside, Pepper called Bannon and quietly filled him in on the attempted abduction.

"Joseph, your back is covered in blood and bits of skin and bone," Ringo said quietly. "Your shirt is destroyed, and your ass is showing through the big holes in your pants. But you don't seem to be injured in any way. My partner also tells me you tipped over the abductor's van."

"Yeah, and I accidentally dropped my damn lunch inside." Joe carefully reached into his pocket and pulled out the plastic wrap. He handed it to Ringo. "Be careful with this. A woman in the restaurant was shooting needles at me with some kind of pen. The needles seem to be coated in something. It should probably be analyzed. I'm going to go take a shower and put on some clean clothes. As for the rest, Bannon will fill you in, or not."

He grabbed a clean shirt, underwear, and shorts and entered the washroom.

What a fucking day!

Chapter 14

Joe sat in a chair in the seating area of Christof's room and listened to the arguments around him. Bannon had arrived about half an hour ago. He insisted that Joe be moved to a safe house and locked down. Christof argued that Joe needed to be able to move about on his own and where had the surveillance team been when Joe was attacked? Bannon countered that they were surveillance, not bodyguards, which was why he wanted Joe in protective custody. Joe understood Pepper and Ringo were currently on the property, watching for suspicious activity. His parents were on the couch, looking worried.

Amy was staying with the Wilsons. Joe heard that the interview with the agent went very well (not surprisingly), and everyone was very excited about Amy's potential. Joe was worried that his sister might be in danger if these kidnappers tried to get to him through her. He wanted to go on the offensive. The thought of Amy in danger triggered an immediate reaction. His eyes snapped to black, and his adrenalin surged. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, but it was useless. He was still worked up from the close call on the road.

He surged to his feet, and everyone stopped talking.

"I'm going down to the bar and getting myself a drink. Maybe two. I'll be back shortly." Joe said as calmly as he could. He slipped his shades on to disguise his eyes, which remained cold and black.

"That's not a good idea." Bannon started.

"But it's necessary, so I'm doing it," Joe finished.

He left the room and headed down to the lobby.

While it was only mid-afternoon, the bar was open, and a few people were sitting inside chatting. He walked up to the bar and asked for a Pina Colada. He was starting to like the frozen concoctions.

A few minutes later, Joe had calmed enough to get his eyes to relax, so he slid his shades up on his head again. The bartender returned and set his drink in front of him with a note. He looked up at the man, who smiled and tipped his head toward the end of the bar. Joe glanced in that direction and saw a woman smiling at him with a drink on the bar before her. Pretty. Short red hair and going for that dark, smoky eyes look. Joe had never received a note from a pretty woman in a bar before, but it had been anything but a normal day. Joe's paranoia flared, so he carefully slipped his shades back on and let his eyes go black once more. He smiled at the woman and raised his drink to her while taking a closer look. Her pulse was thumping pretty fast in her throat. There was some slight trembling in her left hand holding the drink. Her right shoulder twitched, but her right hand was hidden below the bar. Then it clicked. She was the needle shooter. Back for a second attempt? Too much of a coincidence to have two separate groups after him. She must have been part of the abduction team. Maybe the needle was supposed to make him easy to manage so she could walk him out.

Joe picked up the note and glanced at it. It was an invitation to share a drink. He thought he'd better not pass this one up.

He picked up his glass and casually walked down the bar towards the woman, all the while watching her in minute detail. Her heart rate was increasing, and the muscles holding her smile were trembling slightly, as were the muscles around her eyes. She was struggling to maintain that inviting look. Joe slid onto the stool next to her and set his drink down with his right hand while immediately clamping down on her right with his left. She was holding something in her purse on her lap. She was startled but held very still when Joe turned his head towards her.

"We meet again," he said, giving her a false smile for show.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Let go of me!" she growled quietly through her teeth.

"So, you can shoot more needles at me? I don't think so. Or have you graduated from needles to bullets? This feels bigger than the pen you used earlier," Joe said as he tried to gauge what she was holding without allowing her to move her hand.

"If you don't let go, I'm going to scream!" she growled quietly.

Joe realized that would be bad. Very bad. He could see raw hatred in her eyes now. Someone in that van or maybe the unfortunate man with the shock stick was someone personal to her. He wasn't sure what to do, but he knew she'd shoot him if he let go. He had to make sure that didn't happen.

"I'm very sorry," Joe said and made a move like he was going to let go and saw her preparing to move. Then he caught her by surprise by dipping his head in and kissing her... with his tongue. He didn't hold the surge back at all. She gasped and jerked and swung her left hand at him in a slap that ended up behind his head, pulling his mouth more firmly against hers.

The bartender noticed the tension and was on his way over to confirm Joe wasn't bothering her when he saw her passionately kissing him in return. When Joe pulled back from the kiss, the woman swooned in his arm. The bartender smiled, winked at him, and returned to his duties at the far end of the bar.

Horrified by what he'd just done, Joe took a deep gulp of his pina colada and winced from the cold spike that hit his sinuses. Brain freeze! Ouch!

He swirled some more in his mouth to rid himself of the bitter taste. Then he realized that it was just in his mind. He put his arm around the woman, clutching her purse, and walked her out of the bar. He met Pepper by the elevator bank in the lobby. The man looked at him with eyebrows raised.

"This is the woman who was shooting the needles at me," Joe said. They stepped into the elevator, and once the door closed, Joe picked the unconscious woman up in his arms. Pepper updated Ringo with his headset. They reached his room, and Joe put her on his bed.

"What did you do to her?" Pepper asked.

"Nerve pinch," Joe mumbled. "She'll be out for at least a day, but she's really not going to be happy when she wakes up. She wanted me dead or at least perforated. I think she was after revenge for her buddies in the van."

"Makes sense that they'd be connected, but how did you know?" Pepper asked.

"I can't be that popular to have two separate groups after me... yet," he responded. "I'm going to get Director Bannon."

Joe left her with Pepper and went to Christof's room to inform them who he'd bumped into in the bar. Joe's parents and Selina weren't there. Bannon looked grim and immediately headed over to Joe's room, followed by Joe and Christof. The woman's wrists were zip-tied behind her, and her ankles were zip-tied too.

"Did you capture her?" he asked the agent.

"Nope, he did." Pointing his thumb at Joe. Bannon's eyebrows went up in surprise, then down in a scowl.

Pepper was carefully inspecting the contents of the purse. He had them arrayed on the small coffee table. Gun with a silencer, pen, lipstick, small vial of liquid, and sunglasses. No wallet or ID.

"What do you think?" Bannon asked the agent. Pepper looked at Christof and Joe first, but Bannon just nodded.

"My gut is telling me this is CIA, but I'm unclear why they'd be running an op on domestic soil," Pepper said, his brow furrowed with confusion. "We'll have to run her fingerprints through the system to identify her. Or facial recognition. We still may not get anything if her cover is deep."

Bannon nodded and dialed a number on his phone. He spoke with Agent White and asked her to come upstairs with the portable ID unit in the trunk. When he hung up, he turned to Christof.

"About those surprises the Neumann family is so famous for. Anything the CIA might be interested in?" he asked.

Christof frowned and thought about this, which made Bannon's eyebrows go up. "I don't know why the CIA would be interested in Joseph. The only thing that might be remotely related was Joseph's befriending of a young woman who turned out to be the daughter of a murdered Russian mob leader. But Joseph has not had contact with her since she returned to Russia." Joe nodded.

Bannon ran a hand through his short hair in frustration and rubbed the tight muscles in his neck. He wondered if it was too late to get reassigned to something less exciting. Something that didn't involve Joseph Neumann, trouble magnet.

There was a loud knock on the door, and everyone froze. Bannon looked at Pepper, and the two pulled their guns. Pepper tried to reach Ringo and shook his head when he only got silence. Bannon motioned for Christof to move out of the line of fire, which he did quickly.

"Ask who's there," Bannon whispered to Joe.

"Who is it?" Joe said loudly.

"Mr. Neumann. We'd like our agent back. Please open the door." said a voice.

"You didn't answer my question," Joe answered back.

"We're CIA, Mr. Neumann. Open up."

"I'd like a name, please," Joe said. Bannon nodded in approval.

"Senior Special Agent Troy Harding. Mr. Neumann, I'm losing my patience out here. I'm not going to ask again. Open the door."

Bannon holstered his gun. He stepped forward and opened the door.

"Who the fuck are you?" Special Agent Harding asked belligerently, taking a step into the doorway.

"Roger Bannon, Director of the Los Angeles Branch of the NSA. May I ask why you attempted to kidnap a man under my protection?"

"Fuck. The NSA. That's all I need. Listen, I don't have time for a jurisdictional dick-measuring contest. Mr. Neumann has been directly named in an investigation involving international drug trade, prostitution, human trafficking, arms dealing, and the murder of Russian national Anton Gorokhov and thirty-two of his associates."

Christof stepped forward. "There are no grounds for these spurious charges against my client."

"Who the fuck are you?" Harding was getting more belligerent by the minute.

"I'm Christof Waechter of Waechter, Bergström, and Volkov, legal representative for the Neumann family. That's who the fuck I am."

There was a sound of thumps and grunts from the hallway. Harding turned around and saw the two agents he'd had on either side of the door poised to storm the room were now disarmed and unconscious on the floor. Standing over them were three women looking very satisfied with themselves.

"And that would be Selina Bergstrӧm, Agent Rachel Gray of the NSA, and another NSA agent. I'm sorry, I didn't get your name." Christof continued.

"What the fuck is going on?" Harding bellowed. He reached inside his jacket but froze when he felt the barrel of Bannon's gun touch the skin below his left ear.

"I'd extract your hand from your jacket with extreme care, Mr. Harding. We've all had a very frustrating day, and tempers are extremely short. Unfortunate accidents can happen." Bannon's voice was cool and calm, and his gun was rock steady against the man's skull.

"You seriously don't understand how fucking big a mistake you're making!" Harding blurted.

His tone alerted Joe, who let his eyes snap to black. He could see the slow bunching of Harding's shoulder muscles. He was about to try something. Joe reached forward over Bannon and pinched the man's right shoulder between his finger and thumb, hard! Harding screamed silently, and his right arm went dead. The gun he'd managed to palm slipped from his nerveless grip and fell to the floor. Joe released the man's shoulder and pulled his arm back with a quiet apology to the director. Bannon kicked the gun behind him, and Pepper picked it up and came forward to zip-tie the Special Agent. The man cried out when his arms were pulled back to tie together.

"Special Agent Harding, I have serious doubts your mission was officially sanctioned. Either that or you've gone well outside of its operational restrictions. I'm going to make some calls. Sit tight." Pepper shoved the man down to sit on the floor, leaning back against the wall. He cried out again.

Bannon pulled Joe aside and looked up at him. "That was an incredibly dangerous move, reaching over me like that."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, but I could see he was about to do something with his right hand. I assumed he had a gun," Joe said apologetically.

"It worked this time, and thank you for stopping him from shooting me," Bannon replied. "You'll have to teach me that trick where you can see his actions before he does them."

"Not before, just as he prepared to do them, the little motions of his muscles moving. And sure, if you can do this." Joe made his eyes snap to black. He was getting much better at doing that.

Bannon looked up into Joe's black, cold eyes and felt a primal fear reaction fighting his rational mind to surface. Joe blinked, and his eyes returned to the warm, friendly brown. Bannon patted the young man's arm and turned to make his phone calls, allowing himself a brief shiver.

Joe watched Ringo zip-tie the two unconscious men in the hallway. Agent White was taking digital fingerprints from them. He turned to Christof. "That's who the fuck I am?" he said with a grin.

"Ah, you caught me allowing my inner action hero out." Christof smiled back at Joe. "Of course, it was you who disarmed the man. I just get to sound tough."

The room's phone rang, and Joe picked it up. The clerk at the front desk informed him that he had two visitors, Ms. Chiyo and Ms. Kira. His clothes for tonight! Joe had forgotten all about the clothes and the date with Niki Love. He asked Christof if he could use his room as Joe's was full of tied-up agents. Christof handed him the room key, and Joe told the clerk to send them up to Christof's room number. After he hung up, he walked out into the hall, lifted one of the men, and brought him inside to set him on the bed. He then brought the other man in and placed him next to the first. Pepper and Ringo searched them for weapons and found an array of nasty little items.

Joe left them to it, grabbed his dress shoes and socks, and went to wait in Christof's room.

A minute later, there was a knock, and Joe opened the door to see the ladies with pink and deep purple hair standing in the hall with several wardrobe bags over their arms. He invited them in, and they immediately went into the bedroom to set up the outfits. They hung the bags up and opened the first one. It had a crimson shirt.

Chiyo pointed to Joe. "Undress."

He pulled off his shirt and dropped his pants, making the woman smile cheekily.

Joe slipped into the red shirt and was amazed at how well it fit. The waist didn't balloon outwards like many of the shirts he'd tried. It wasn't too tight, even across his chest, shoulders, and arms. Kira opened a second wardrobe back and pulled out a pair of black slacks. He pulled them on and realized his boxers would be an issue with the pants. The legs were tight, though the material stretched. Just not enough for him to tuck the boxers down. They bunched, and that showed.

"Undress," Kira said, pointing to his boxers. Joe pulled the slacks off again and looked for some other underwear.

"No," Kira said and pointed to his boxers.

"Go commando?" Joe asked?

The girls looked at each other. "Commando?" Chiyo asked.

"Naked. No underwear under my pants," he clarified.

"Yes! Naked!" Chiyo clapped.

Joe took the pants into the bathroom and pulled his boxers off. He pulled the pants on and found them surprisingly soft and comfortable. He let himself hang into his left pant leg. After he was zipped and buttoned up, he returned to the bedroom, and the two women eyed him critically. He did a pirouette, and they both giggled. Kira nodded and indicated that he should move around to ensure the pants fit. He did a deep squat, and the pants didn't split. He pulled one knee to his chest, then alternated, and no rips or tears formed. He started dancing, and the two women joined in. They began singing the lyrics to one of Talia's most recent hits. They had excellent singing voices, and soon, they were all dancing to the imagined tune and their singing.

The dancing started to get a little physical, each of the women taking turns dancing in front and behind Joe with a fair amount of brushing and touching against each other. Joe grew very hard from the sensations. They gradually stopped, and Joe realized he wasn't terribly uncomfortable as he would have been in his jeans. The new slacks stretched considerably more. The two young women were appreciating their handiwork and Joe's reaction to their awareness. Kira stepped over to the closet and showed Joe that three more pairs of the slacks were in the other bags and three shirts of the same design, one black, one deep blue, and one charcoal grey.

"They are beautiful!" Joe said and smiled at the ladies. "Do I pay you or Mr. Fukui?"

Chiyo conferred with her sister, and they realized what Joe was saying. "No. Mr. Fukui, yes."

Kira stepped forward with a bold look in her eye. "Tip."

"Sure, but I need to know how much the shirts were to work out the tip." Joe stumbled through his words as the dark-haired woman looked up at him expectantly.

"Tip, Talia kiss," she said, smiling coyly.

Ah! She'd seen the broadcast! She wanted a kiss like he'd given Talia. She was a bold one! Chiyo was giggling and blushing and saying something to her sister very rapidly. Kira just shushed her sister and stood there with her face upturned. Joe locked down his surge and leaned down to kiss the Japanese beauty. She was a little stiff when they kissed as she didn't seem to have much experience, but when Joe's concentration slipped a bit, she moaned, and suddenly she had both arms wrapped around his neck, her legs around his waist, and her tongue exploring his mouth. Joe pulled away and cautiously watched to see if she would remain awake. Her eyes slowly opened, and she smiled hugely at him. She licked her plumped lips and gazed hungrily at his mouth. Joe gently pulled her off his body and set her on her feet. She swayed a little, but she remained conscious. Joe looked at Chiyo, who looked frightened but desperate to have what her sister did.

"Tip?" he asked, and she nodded shyly.

He leaned in gently and tenderly kissed her pink lips. Her tongue slipped forward to caress his lips, so he returned the favor, and she moaned as the pleasure coursed through her body. Joe pulled back, and she shook a little with the aftershocks, but she remained on her feet.

Kira was grinning madly. "Ah, baby, there just aren't words!" she said, mimicking Talia's televised phrase.

Joe smiled and chuckled. The two women bowed to him, he returned the gesture, and they left in a flurry of giggles.

Joe put his new clothes back into their wardrobe bags and put his casual clothes back on. He still had a few hours before he'd be picked up and didn't want to get them dirty when he ate dinner before leaving. He gathered up all of the bags and carried them back to his room. He knocked, and Pepper opened the door. Joe looked around and noticed all of the CIA people were gone. So were Agent White and Selina. Bannon stepped forward.

"We've been informed that Mr. Harding's recent actions weren't authorized. He's been taken into custody by his superiors, though I don't hold out too much hope for him actually getting punishment. His direct report is taking over his case, and they would like to speak with you regarding your involvement with Renata Gorokhov and Iosif Nikolov."

"Uh, sure. Not tonight, though. I have a date." Joe replied.

"Tomorrow?" Bannon asked tiredly.

"Better make it the afternoon. I've been informed I'll be out late, which may mean until morning," he said.

Bannon nodded, then left with Pepper behind him.

Joe turned to Christof. "Thanks for the use of your room! Here's your key. The twins said I should pay Mr. Fukui, but they didn't tell me how much. They made me four pairs of pants and four shirts. They fit great!"

"I'll speak with Stan and let you know," Christof replied.

"Stan?" Joe asked.

"His American name." Christof smiled.

"Ah." Then Christof departed, and Joe was alone in his room at last. He ordered some dinner and set his alarm for nine so he could sleep after he ate. He'd never stayed up all night dancing before.

-=-

It was eleven, and he sat in the lobby bar sipping at some water while he waited. He'd had a big meal and got a solid three hours of sleep, so he thought he was prepared, but he hadn't expected to be stood up. With a growl, he got up and headed to the elevators.

"JOE! Wait!" he heard just as the doors were closing. He pressed the door open button, and Niki slammed into the opening. Her eyes looked a little glassy.

"Ooo! Baby, you look delicious!" she cooed.

"Are we going out?" Joe asked, still a little upset.

"Aww, don't be like that! Yes, we're going out, and we're gonna burn this town to the ground!" she finished with a shout.

Joe left the elevator and scooped Niki up in his arms as he marched through the lobby. The sooner he got her out of the hotel, the less embarrassed he'd be when he returned. He was a little put off that she seemed to be high already. It was probably the reason she was late. He seriously considered dumping her in her stretched limo and going back upstairs to call it a night. He set Niki down on her feet and then opened the door. A pounding beat burst from the car's interior with multi-colored lights. There were six women and two guys inside already. They all cheered when they saw Niki.

Joe recalled another stretched limo and the singing and dancing they'd enjoyed on the way to prom. It raised his spirits a little. Niki crawled inside, and Joe followed. There was barely enough room to close the door. Niki introduced her bitches, but Joe quickly forgot their names as none seemed capable of coherent thought. Stephan, pronounced Stee-Fawn, apparently brought the party, which to Joe meant he was Niki's pusher. Joe gave him a nod. The other man, Pierce, barely got acknowledged by Niki, but Joe immediately thought he was hired muscle. Probably Stephan's. Joe gave another nod. Then they were off.

As suspected, they skipped the dinner portion of the night and went straight to a house party up in the hills. Apparently, Niki was crashing the party of some new rising talent. So, she was scoping out the competition and dragging them along. The home was owned by some music producer. Joe stayed by Niki's side and was introduced to many people he immediately forgot just as quickly as they forgot him.

Joe was impressed by the elegant design of the home and its décor and paid far more attention to that than the people currently blathering away inside of it. The party was boring him, so he imagined himself as Niki's personal security detail and began scanning the party for threats. Stephan and Pierce immediately raised red flags across the room. They were making a transaction with a group of young adults dressed similarly. A new band, perhaps? Following the Rock and Roll tradition of drugs, alcohol, and excess. Joe moved on. He saw a woman marching up to them. Her expression was both anxious and angry, and her eyes were focused on the back of Niki's head. Joe picked up her intent immediately. He stepped between them. "Hello."

The woman's concentration broke, and she looked up into Joe's eyes. "Oh! Uh... Hello."

"I'm Joe Neumann," he said and held out his hand. He'd been doing this all night, but this was the first time he'd used it for a purpose.

"Natalie Ormond." She took his large hand in her smaller one. Her French accent was as beautiful as she was. Joe noted her fingers were long and slender and wondered if she was a pianist.

"Oh! Should I have said Bonjour? Sadly, that's the extent of my French, I'm afraid." Joe smiled.

"You are a charmer, Joe!" she smiled sweetly, her initial ire forgotten.

Niki realized Joe wasn't paying attention to what she was saying and turned to see him speaking with the pretty young woman who was the reason for the party. She grabbed Joe's arm and tugged, but she might have been pulling on an oak tree for all the good it did. Joe then turned and gave her a quick kiss. It was the briefest of touches, but Niki's mind went blank, and her toes curled as her body reacted to the shot of pleasure.

Joe put his arm around her shoulders and scooped Niki forward to introduce her to Natalie. Completely put off her game and floating on a cloud of bliss, Niki exchanged friendly hellos and congratulated Natalie. The young woman had been warned that Niki was here to embarrass her, but this was entirely different behavior. Natalie responded graciously, and the two exchanged a few more small pleasantries before Natalie was called away. Before leaving, she looked up at Joe, mouthed the word charmer, and winked. Joe smiled back and nodded.

Niki was coming down from the kiss high and realized her plan to put the young upstart in her place was blown, and she was sure she'd seen a photographer snapping a shot of her and Natalie smiling at each other.

She was furious with Joe! Her whole night was ruined! She needed to break something. She needed—

That's when Joe dipped down and kissed her again, longer this time, and the rage was lost. The kiss ended, and she clung to his arm, her mind swirling but clear and calm. Joe worked their way back to the door. Her entourage saw them leaving, and most of them rejoined her. She lost one who had latched onto a prospective meal ticket. Stephan and Pierce rejoined them as well.

Piling back into the limo, they headed off into the night, searching for the next scene. Which turned out to be a series of three nightclubs, each darker and louder than the previous one. They drank and socialized, and when Joe insisted, they danced. Joe began to have a good time. The people on the dance floor seemed to enjoy the energy he brought out there. He did his best to maintain his focus on Niki as Melissa had instructed as several women attempted to cut in. Some boyfriends or dates got a little upset when their women turned away to dance with the big man. Joe always gauged the mood and would take himself and Niki off the floor if it started turning sour.

After they left the second club, Joe started picking up on the feeling of being watched. Pepper had been at the bar in the first club, and Ringo was on the dance floor at the second, so it wasn't them.

Niki found the third club in a dark industrial park. Joe looked out the limo windows and asked where Niki heard of this club.

"In the last club, I talked with this really hot chick in the washroom. She was so bored of the usual club scene like I was, so she recommended this one. She said it can get a little dangerous, but you looked like you could protect me." Niki giggled, and there was a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

Joe didn't like the sound of that, but it was Niki's party. Stephan and Pierce exchanged looks but couldn't back out now, or they'd lose access to the people Niki brought them into contact with.

The group assembled at the stairwell leading down into the basement of a large steel and concrete bunker. Niki led the charge with Joe directly behind her. The remaining ladies followed close behind Joe, followed by Pierce, then Stephan.

Niki knocked on the steel door, and a slot opened. Two cold, hard eyes peered first at Joe, then down to Niki.

"Pravda" she said timidly.

The slot slammed closed, and the door opened towards them a few seconds later. Niki stepped inside and was confronted by a tough-looking woman dressed completely in black leather and holding a metal detector wand. Joe groaned inwardly.

Niki passed the wand test and moved further into the room to stand between two muscle-bound goons. When it was Joe's turn, he set the damn thing off the second it got close. It wailed over every surface she scanned. The woman pointed to a door to the right. "Go!" she barked. Joe balked, but seeing the two goons tense up and move their hands toward their jackets, he walked over to the door and entered. The room inside was maybe ten feet by nine and was empty except for a single metal chair against the wall by the door and a coat rack against the left wall. A single bulb lit the room from the center of the ceiling. He felt the woman's hand on his back, roughly pushing him further into the room. She followed him in and sat in the chair.

"Strip," she snapped.

Joe was getting tired of this woman's attitude, but considering Niki's situation in the hall, he decided to get this over quickly. He unbuttoned his shirt and hung it over a hook on the coat rack. He held his hands out from his body and turned in a circle. Joe looked at her expectantly, but she was busy letting her eyes roam over his torso.

"Pants!" she ordered.

She was seriously pissing him off. He undid the button and fly and dropped the pants to his feet. "Okay? Are we done here?"

Her eyes locked onto his groin, and a cruel sneer formed on her lips. She stood and stepped towards him quickly and grabbed his balls. She squeezed hard and tugged, expecting Joe to scream and crumble at her feet. Instead, he just slapped her hand away. Then he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back until she slammed her back against the wall by the door. The chair hit the back of her legs so she couldn't stand, but Joe's hands held her pinned to the wall with brutal strength. She could feel his rage! His face was right up against hers, his eyes black and ice cold. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his as she saw her death reflected in their terrible depths. She started to whimper, and Joe scented that she'd wet herself.

Suddenly, Joe recalled a young boy, also a bully, who'd suffered the same humiliation. The heat went out of his rage, and his eyes snapped back to warm chocolate brown. God! What he'd almost done to this woman!

He saw relief and confusion slip into her expression, and on impulse, he kissed her. It was quick, but he hit her with the surge. He sat her on the chair, then stepped back to pull up his pants. He was lucky the material stretched as well as it did, or he'd have ripped the pants when he marched her back to slam her against the wall. He got his shirt and put it back on. He looked down at the woman who was coming around. He could still smell the urine. He thought he'd better step out to give her time to collect herself.

He opened the door and heard the goons chuckling. That got real quiet as he stood alone in the doorway. He heard whispered gasps and looked at Niki and the five women in her entourage, who were all looking down at his pants, their eyes wide. He looked down and saw his fly was open, and a good portion of him was bulging out. His face going scarlet, he tucked himself in and zipped up. The goons looked pissed off and took a few steps towards him.

"Nyet!" the woman barked from Joe's shoulder, stopping the thugs in their tracks. Joe moved further into the room. The disheveled woman waved at Joe from the doorway to join his friends. She wouldn't meet his eye. He wasted no time collecting the ladies and leading them further into the club, glad to be away from the crazy woman and her goons.

"Joe, did you have sex with that woman?" Niki hissed quietly.

"What? No!" he replied.

"Then why was your dick hanging out, and why did she look like she'd just been fucked?" Niki said crossly.

Joe stopped in the hallway, and the six women stumbled to a stop and scurried back to his side. They were seriously spooked by the dangerous overtones of this club.

"Look, you were the one who wanted to come here, looking for the thrill of something new? She insisted I strip down, and considering the goons with guns keeping you and your girls company, I went along until she decided to play rough. Very rough. So, I got very rough back, and she pissed herself. It could have gone from bad to worse at that point, so I gave her a little kiss. I think you understand how that went." Joe growled at Niki. This night had shown some promise, but it was seriously going south.

Niki's eyes widened, and she started breathing heavier when Joe talked about getting rough. Joe saw some of the other ladies also getting a little glassy-eyed looking at him. "Great, they find that exciting, too," he thought grimly.

"I need a drink, and I want to dance. Let's go!" he said, sweeping the women forward. At the end of the hall was a door, and Joe heard the thumping boom of a driving beat. He couldn't wait to get out onto the dance floor.

The door opened on a staircase leading down into a vast cavernous space with speakers and light effects machines casting a dazzling light show across the seething mass of dancers below. They were at the top of the staircase and could see a wide bar area next to a crowded dance floor. Around the back wall were raised areas with tables and couches, some with drawn curtains. From the harsh eastern block austerity of the club's entrance, the lavish luxury of the club downstairs was nectar for the soul!

They made their way down to the base of the stairs, and a lovely hostess asked them if they had a reservation. The beat was so loud none of the women could hear what she said, but Joe answered that they didn't. He introduced Niki Love, but the hostess just blinked at him. Niki caught that and was not happy. The hostess asked him for his name, so he told her. Her eyes snapped up to his face, and she grinned widely, gesturing they should follow her. Joe glanced at Niki, who looked at him with a puzzled expression. He shrugged and followed the woman. Niki grabbed Joe's hand and reached behind herself to hold the hand of one of her bitches. Like a string of kindergarten kids, they walked through the rough crowd toward one of the curtained booths. It was the largest in the club. They passed a few fights, and Niki was sure she saw someone pull a knife.

When they had gathered outside the curtain, the hostess gestured for them to wait as she slipped inside. A moment later, she returned, followed by three very beautiful and drunk party girls. The hostess opened the curtain, and Niki thrust herself forward to be the first one inside. Joe sighed and followed. The noise was considerably less inside.

"You!" he heard Niki exclaim.

"Lovely to see you again!" replied a voice he thought he'd never hear again.

Joe stopped inside the curtain, shocked to his core. Sitting back comfortably on the couch across from the entrance was Renata Gorokhov, more beautiful than ever. To her right sat Iosif Nikolov, looking a little rough around the edges. He had a black cast on his right arm from hand to elbow, an eye patch on his left eye, and a bandage on his left ear.

"You probably look better than the thirty-three other guys," Joe said.

Iosif's face broke into a huge grin. He raised a drink to Joe and sucked it back.

"You know them?" Niki squeaked.

"Oh yes, Joseph knows us... intimately!" Renata laughed. Iosif glared at her.

Niki's head swung back to Joe. "What does that mean?"

"Can we please stop that? Is this the really hot chick who told you to come here?" Joe asked.

Niki nodded then the lights came on behind her eyes. She spun on Renata.

"You used me to bring Joe here!"

"Ringo!" Renata yelled, clapping and laughing.

"Bingo," Iosif corrected.

"Oh! Bingo!" Renata repeated.

Niki looked like she was going to throw a tantrum. She looked around for something to strike the satisfied smile from Renata's pretty face until it wasn't so pretty anymore.

"Niki, enough!" Joe growled, full of menace.

She froze. No one had talked to her like that... ever. She found herself sitting down with Joe. She clung to his arm, though she wasn't quite sure why.

"Mmmm... our sweet Joseph is finally showing his teeth. It looks good on you." Renata smiled, please with the change she saw in him.

Just then, one of Niki's entourage summoned the courage to poke her head into the curtain. Joe saw the desperation in her eyes, so he gestured for her to enter. She quickly did, pulling the rest of the group with her. She squeezed onto the couch on Joe's right side with one more, and the other three took the couch facing Joe.

Renata and Iosif looked at Joe with raised eyebrows.

"Niki's posse," he explained. They nodded.

A thought suddenly intruded on Joe's mind as his recent activity with the rogue CIA agent surfaced.

"Do either of you know why the CIA would be so interested in me that they tried to abduct me off the street in broad daylight?" Joe asked. This made Niki and her crew stare at Joe like their protector had suddenly become the most dangerous man in the club.

What Joe found more disturbing was that they all leaned closer.

Renata shared a pained look with Iosif, who just looked pissed off.

"That might be my fault," she said. "I might have mentioned your name the last time I met my Uncle. He was... most surprised I could rise from my wheelchair. I think the surprise was too much for him, as he died shortly afterward. Gruesomely. Painfully. Slowly. I told him you were responsible for saving me and made it all possible."

Iosif then spoke. "Anton worked with CIA. They listened."

Joe sunk his head into his hands and took deep breaths. When he calmed down, he turned to Iosif. "Wait- how do you know he worked with the CIA?"

Iosif looked at Joe briefly, then reached into his jacket. The ladies beside Joe squeeze tighter against him. He felt them tremble.

Iosif pulled out his cell, opened the photo gallery app, and located an image. He held it up for Joe to see. "Anton is on the right. On the left is—"

"Senior Special Agent Troy Harding. I've met him. It was his hit squad that tried to abduct me. When they failed, they tried to take me in my hotel room, but some friends of mine disarmed them and took them into custody. But they had to hand them off to his superiors. No idea where they are now. Can you send that pic and any like it to my lawyer's email? It might be useful leverage if I need to kill that guy's testimony against me." Iosif nodded, so Joe showed him Christof's email address on his cell.

Joe felt a hand sliding across his thigh. He glanced down and saw Niki was very glassy-eyed. Her face was flushed, and she was breathing hard. Niki's friend on his other side, he thought her name was Karen, seemed to be getting the same idea with his other thigh. He looked with exasperation at Renata and Iosif. Renata had a huge grin, and Iosif looked smug at his discomfort.

"Looks like the kittens suddenly realized they were playing with a tiger all along," Renata chuckled. She stood up quickly and stepped around the table to grab Joe. "Come, Joseph, you owe me a dance since you gave me back my legs!" With his assistance, she pulled him to his feet and away from the clutching women.

"Iosif, be a good host and get the ladies some drinks while they wait for the tiger's return!" Renata said as she parted the curtain and pulled Joe out into the throbbing beat of the music. They made it to the dance floor, and Joe's size gave them space to dance as people naturally made way. Joe and Renata immediately surrendered to the thumping base and let their bodies move. Soon, they were both lost in the music and grinning like fools.

After several numbers, Renata finally got winded and grabbed Joe's arm to let him know she needed to return. He nodded, and they made their way back to their seats.

Entering the curtain again, they saw the ladies enjoying their drinks, and one of the girls was enjoying Iosif's lap. He looked like he wasn't hating it.

Renata snorted and reclaimed her seat, returning the two ladies to their couch. It seemed Renata was a tiger as well.

Niki and Karen immediately made space between them, and Joe took his spot again, only to be squeezed between their soft bodies. The drinks obviously did nothing to curb their desires.

"As much fun as this is, I think it might be wise for us to say our goodbyes and head home. It was wonderful to see you both once more, and I hope we can meet again in calmer times, like when the CIA isn't after me. And probably you. Please take care of yourselves and be safe!" Joe said sincerely.

Joe stood and shook Iosif's left hand when he removed it from the ass of the woman on his lap. Then Joe leaned down and kissed Renata with just a hint of surge. She smiled dreamily at him. "We will meet again, Joseph. Know that!"

Niki's women all stood. The one on Iosif's lap gave him a deep kiss, then got in line. Joe scanned the group and suddenly realized the dealer and his muscle weren't there. Not that he thought it was a big loss, but they'd stuck like glue all night. He turned to Niki. "What happened to Stephan and Pierce?" She started since she'd missed their absence as well.

"The little pusher and his boy... went away. I don't think they'll return." Iosif answered with a grim smile.

Joe nodded to Iosif and pulled the stunned and frightened women through the curtain and the crowd to climb back up the stairs. He confirmed the ladies were all there then they left. The goons were still by the door when they exited and gave Joe the evil eye, but he ignored them.

Joe opened the limo's back door, and all the women scrambled to enter its sanctuary. Once he was inside, Niki pressed the intercom and told the driver to take them to her place.

Joe checked the time on his phone and saw it was almost five in the morning. Some of the ladies were fading. Three leaned against each other and were out in seconds. One was on her cell, busily tapping out a message. Joe snatched the phone from her fingers, but her protest died when he glared at her.

Unlike his vintage keypad phone, this was a touch screen, so he handed it to Niki. "Check the photos," he said, and she nodded, bringing up the gallery. There was only one showing him and Renata. "Delete it," he insisted, and she did. "Delete all images taken in the last club," he insisted.

Niki looked into his eyes, then did as he asked until nothing dangerous remained. Joe took the phone from Niki and handed it back to the woman.

"Do you realize that if any of those shots made it online, you would likely be dead by the end of the day?" Joe growled. "If they'd caught you taking them, they would have killed you on the spot! You were damn lucky."

The woman looked like she was going to cry as she was so scared.

Joe suddenly felt bad and didn't want her night to end in tears, so he reached out and pulled her unresisting body towards him. She practically leapt the last bit into his lap. He kissed her, and she squealed as the surge shot through her body. After he pulled back, he rested her against the seat. That should keep her off her phone for a while. He tucked it into her purse.

Joe settled back into his seat, and immediately, Niki was against his left side. Karen moved in but looked at her friend first. She must have received approval as she pressed her body against Joe's right side. Joe was reminded of another limo ride he'd taken with two beautiful women in a similar position.

He turned is face to Niki and saw her eyes were wide and full of need. He leaned down and took her mouth with a slow and sensual kiss. He felt her melt against him and resisted the urge to explore her mouth with his tongue. He felt Karen's lips exploring his earlobe. He pulled back from Niki and saw she was swooning slightly as she rubbed herself against the hard muscles of his thigh. He turned his head towards Karen and met her lips halfway.

Karen was a very good kisser! She knew how to caress a partner's lips with hers and draw the pleasure out slowly. Joe kept pace, and it became something of a contest to see who could break the other's restraint. Joe decided a more aggressive approach would help him win this one, so he slid his right hand into her thick auburn hair, took a good grip, and kissed her with a little more passion. She made a cute little coo sound against his mouth, and her tongue came into play, signaling he'd won. She hunted for Joe's tongue with hers while gasping into his mouth as his hand slid down her back to squeeze her ass and pull her more firmly against his thigh. He felt her begin to tremble, so he finally let her feel his tongue. Karen arched back as her bliss amplified and crashed over her senses. She opened her mouth in a silent scream and crushed her pelvis against Joe's thigh. She shook all over and lost muscle tone as her senses overloaded, and she passed out. He gently laid her out on the seat next to him and turned his attention back to Niki.

She had this intense look, and she continued to grind against him. He gently pushed her back until she was kneeling in front of him. Joe glanced at the others and realized Niki and he were the only ones in the back still awake, so he felt it was safe to get naked with her. He kicked off his shoes and socks, then removed his shirt and pants. When she saw him begin to undress, she grinned and quickly pulled off her clothes. Once they were naked, he picked her up and swung her around to lie on the seat. He dipped down and kissed his way down her body from her neck to her breasts, giving each nipple a little surge, making her moan loudly and clutch at his head. He grabbed her legs and roughly lifted them to allow him access to her most sensitive areas. He spent a little time orally pleasuring Niki as she cried out with ecstasy. He explored her tender flesh with his tongue, struggling to suppress the surge until he saw her eyes begin to roll back. He stopped to give her a moment to recuperate. He pulled one of the condoms from his pants pocket, tore open the packet, and rolled it on.

Joe ran his fingers over her wetness and heard her gasp. She was ready. Considering how tiny Niki was, he was concerned he might not fit. He ran himself against her opening until he was well lubricated. She made little begging noises and pulled at his hips, so he positioned himself and applied gradual pressure. Joe took his time and watched for any indication that she felt pain or discomfort as he slipped deeper within her until he bottomed out. She was constantly moaning by that point. Joe pulled out most of the way and slid it back in with a thrust of his hips. Niki screamed and clung to him. He felt her body shaking through an orgasm, which caught her by surprise. His body began to thrust on its own, and Joe felt Niki shake even harder. It felt so incredible that he started moving faster as his pleasure climbed closer to his release. Niki seemed to be hitting peak after peak.

Joe saw Niki's expression was beginning to show it was becoming too much for her. His release exploded through his senses, and he rode the bliss while he was deep inside her. Joe came down from his high and slowly pulled himself out. He removed the condom and tied it off.

Looking at it, he suddenly felt angry at the bastards who'd robbed him of his chance to have a family.

Eggs. Eggs for what?

He looked around for a place to discard it and dropped it in the limo's ice bucket. Bitterly, he thought maybe Agent White would require another sample.

In a burst of uncharacteristic belligerence, Joe pulled out his phone and texted her, letting her know where it was if she wanted it. After he sent the note, he felt stupid, but it was too late. He'd have to leave it there now.

Niki was panting heavily and terribly sensitive. Touching her anywhere was too much, so he gave her some space. Joe found refreshing cloths in a drawer under the limo's well-stocked bar. He wiped himself clean. Then he pulled his clothes back on and helped Niki get dressed as well. A short time later, the limo stopped moving as they'd reached Niki's place. Niki dragged her girls from the limo. Karen and the shutterbug were still out, so Niki called for her security guys to carry them upstairs. They seemed quite angry with her, and Joe wondered how she managed to sneak away for her night out. She leaned in for another kiss, and he kept his tongue back as she would have collapsed. She made him promise to call her, then she left.

Once the door was closed, Joe pushed the intercom button. "Okay, you two, let's return to the hotel." The privacy wall dropped, and he saw Pepper and Ringo.

"Thank God! I'm too old to stay up all night." Pepper groaned. He started the car and got them back on the road.

"Yeah, I was wondering about the logistics of having just two watchers, especially if you both need to be on duty at the same time. What happens when I'm sleeping? Does one of you have to stay awake? That seems crazy!" Joe said.

"We'll have a talk with Bannon tomorrow, uh, today," Ringo said

"Can I have your names now?" Joe asked. "Have I proven I can keep your cover?"

The two looked at each other.

"What have you been calling us?" Ringo asked.

"He's Pepper, and you're Ringo," Joe replied, embarrassed.

"HA!" Pepper laughed. "I like those better than our real names. Feels a bit like a gender bender, though."

Ringo was smiling, too. "Hey, I have no issues with you using those names."

Joe settled back and nodded off. Moments later, he was shaken awake roughly by Agent Ringo.

"God, you're a deep sleeper!" she growled as she climbed out of the limo.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He scrambled out of the limo and was surprised to see Safa Neema in her white lab coat standing by the door with a small medical cooler dangling from her latex-gloved hand. She nodded at him and slipped inside the car. Ringo's eyebrows went up, and Joe's face went crimson. He walked away briskly, forcing the agent to hurry to get ahead of him. He got to his room without issues, immediately plopped onto his bed, and was out.

Chapter 15

It was one in the afternoon when Joe woke up. He lay there for a while, enjoying the softness of the bed under him. His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. It was Melissa! He answered.

"Hello!"

"Hey, party boy! I see you had a good time last night!" she said with a smile in her voice.

"What do you mean?" he said groggily.

"Did you just get up?" her surprise sounded a little weak.

"Yes, now what do you mean?" his voice nervous as he expected some disaster he'd need to do damage control for. Or worse, Christof would.

"Calm down. It's good news this time. The society page in this morning's paper shows a shot of Niki Love and Natalie Ormond shaking hands and smiling, looking like the best of friends, and you are behind them, looking quite pleased. Niki comes out looking like she's finally grown up, a very positive spin for that girl, and Natalie is being quoted as calling you charming, which is also positive. There are some pics of you dancing with Niki, and you both look like you are having a blast!" she sounded pleased.

"We didn't dance as much as I'd hoped we would, but it was fun!" Joe agreed, and he relaxed. "So, about that date...."

Melissa laughed. "What do you have in mind?"

"I was really hoping for a real date. You know, dinner followed by dancing and drinks with a pretty view someplace." Joe hinted.

"Ah, a romantic date!" she chuckled.

"Yeah, that would be nice! Perhaps less stress and drama, no entourage or personal drug dealer tag-a-longs who may or may not have met an untimely doom?" he said, sounding wistful.

"That bad, huh?" she replied.

"Well, it started getting better, and then Niki decided to take us off the beaten trail to a nightclub for underworld players. It got pretty dangerous there. That's where we lost the drug dealer and his muscle. They were like guppies swimming with sharks in that place. No big loss, really, but it scared the hell out of Niki and her crew.

"Changing the subject entirely, have you spoken with your sister?" Melissa asked, surprising him.

"Uh, no. I haven't seen her in the past few days. I thought she was hanging out with your brother." Joe said.

"She has been here, but she's not herself. She had this positive energy when we first met, which got everyone going. But something's changed. She's been depressed, which isn't helping her make a good impression. She got signed on with that agent friend of Doug's, but she won't take her to see anyone until Amy can get out of this funk."

"Is she there now?" Joe asked.

"No, as far as I know, she's back at the hotel," Melissa answered.

"Okay, I'm going to go find her and have a talk. Can I call you back later?" Joe asked.

"I'll be here. Talk to you later." She hung up.

Joe quickly showered and put on one of the shirts he picked up at the mall. He dug out some shorts and his sandals. He realized his wardrobe was extremely limited, and he'd have to do something about that. If he could avoid having people blow up his clothes, that would be a good start.

He stood in front of Amy's door for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to say to her. After a dozen failed attempts, he just gave up and knocked. After a few seconds, he heard her speak from inside.

"Who is it?"

Recalling a childhood game they loved, he replied. "Let me in, let me in, little pig, or I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in!"

The door swung open quickly, and Amy launched herself into his arms. He gathered her up and held her close, rocking her back and forth and kissing the top of her head as he used to do when she was just a little girl.

"I'm so sorry, Joe," she choked out. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and she was burrowing her face against his chest.

"Shhh, come on. Let's go inside to talk," he whispered soothingly to her. Joe put his sister back down on her feet and followed her into the room. They walked over to the sitting area and sat side by side on the couch. He reached out and took her tiny hand and placed it in the palm of his.

"When are you going to get bigger?" he teased.

Amy's sad face brightened a little as she remembered how they used to jab each other about how microscopic she was and how freakishly big he was. A smile began to creep across her face.

"I heard someone was being a stupid head and was getting all mopey." Joe kept up the barrage of childhood taunts. This one was based on her typically perfect school grades, which obviously proved she was simple-minded. The insults didn't have to make sense, and often, the less they did, the better the tease.

Amy broke into a huge grin and looked up at her brother. Pure love shone in her eyes.

"No matter how itty bitty you are, or how empty your head is, or how nuts you make me, you will always be my beloved sister, and there is nothing that will change how enormously much I love you. You got that, Einsteinot?" Joe punctuated with a finger poke to her forehead. He used this finger to make her head nod up and down. "Goooood!" he said like a simpleton.

"Now I know why you are so grotesquely huge! It's to contain all that love!" she said sweetly to him.

Joe smiled back at his sister. He really did love her more than anyone in the world. Which was why he'd been so horrified to be forced over that line. He looked down at his hands in his lap. "I know we can't take back what happened as much as we both might wish we could, but I wanted you to know that it really hasn't changed how much I love you, how incredibly proud I am of you, how much I'm in awe of your gift with people and acting. I don't want what happened to change you in any way. You're perfect! You know, for a simple-headed munchkin."

The tears were returning to his sister's eyes, but they were of joy and love this time.

"Now, before you get all weepy, as I know women can be, I heard you weren't as full of positive energy as you were when we arrived, so we have to do something about that," Joe said and got to his feet. Amy looked up at him with a puzzled smile. "Come on, stand up unless you already are." he teased.

Amy bounced to her feet and gave him a fake snarl.

"Time to do some cheering!" Joe shouted excitedly, "Woo!" He started to do some jumping jacks in front of the couch. Amy jumped up and down, then climbed on the sofa to jump as high as Joe.

They hooted, hollered, and laughed, swinging their arms above their heads as they leapt. When Amy was too winded to jump anymore, she plopped down on the couch and laughed at her brother's dismayed look that she dropped out.

He sunk down to sit cross-legged on the floor before the couch. "I've missed you the last few days," he said with a small smile. "Bring me up to speed!"

"Well, I met the agent, and I think I blew her away. She gave me a good contract, and Doug confirmed I was getting a good deal. He said Jacquie would make a pretty penny based on potential volume, so she could afford to give me a better contract. When we met the next day, I felt so sad about you not being there that I just couldn't concentrate. Jacquie and Doug noticed immediately, and they postponed some meetings until I could get my head straight. You've always been nearby when I was on stage. It helps me feel safe. Like I can do anything."

"Amy, you don't need me for that. You can do anything!" Joe said.

"See! You are my best confidence boost," she explained.

Joe was a little worried that Amy might get it in her head that her abilities had some dependency on him. He knew she was talented, and Joe's presence was not required.

"You're confidence was just a little shaken by recent events. You know now that you have nothing to fear about our relationship changing. Even if I'm not physically present, I will always be there for you. There is a lot of stuff going on right now, and I still have to get some training to be a personal protection expert. Until that happens, I won't always be able to be with you, but I know you'll be amazing as usual."

"What about you? What have you been up to the last couple of days? The last time I saw you was when you were fitted for some clothes." Amy asked.

"Has Mom and Dad brought you up to speed on the latest bad news about me?" he asked quietly.

Amy got worried when she saw Joe's pained expression. "What is it, Joe?"

"I'm not going to give them grandchildren any time soon," he said, and his voice cracked.

She took his hand. "What does that mean?"

"I'm not compatible with human women when it comes to fertility. I have no sperm," he said.

"What?" Amy gasped.

"Worse than firing blanks, I produce some kind of eggs instead. I don't know what the hell I am." His voice cracked again.

"Now, who's being the stupid head! You're my brother! You are the most loving person in my life besides Mom and Dad, and you come in first before even them. The rest of this stuff about you is just detail." Amy said, gripping both of his hands tight.

"Thanks, Amy."

"Is that it? Did they tell you anything else?" she asked.

"I'll know more about the genetics test in a few days," he answered. "Oh! And I have the CIA after my ass for my connection to Renata Gorokhov and Iosif Nikolov, who may have disrupted one of their covert operations in Russia. They tried to grab me off the street, and then they came after me in the hotel room, but Director Bannon, Agent White, Agent Pepper, Agent Ringo, and Selina Bergstrӧm took them down commando style."

"Selina? Our lawyer, Selina?" she gasped, and Joe nodded with a grin. "Wait, who's Agent Ringo?" she asked.

"Oh! That's the name I gave to the woman who keeps surveillance on me for the NSA... because of a ring I saw her wearing. I call her partner Agent Pepper because he has salt and pepper hair. What? They won't tell me their names, so I made some up." he said defensively when his sister frowned at him.

"Mr. Pepper and Ms. Ringo. That sounds backward, somehow," she grumbled, still wearing that frown.

"And you're a stupid head," he poked and grinned.

That brought a smile back to her face.

"I went on my date with Niki Love. I think we went to a party for a new up-and-coming singer, Natalie Ormond."

Amy gasped, so Joe continued. "Yeah, she's very nice. I think Niki went there to make trouble, but I convinced her to behave. While making the rounds with Niki, I could see myself attending more of these only with you being introduced to the movers and shakers of the movie industry." That got him a big smile from his sister. "It was soooo boring!" he groaned dramatically, and she swatted him.

"We hit some clubs, and I got to do some dancing. Then she dragged us to a club for underworld criminals, and we were lucky to get out alive. I actually think two people in Niki's entourage didn't. Just a drug dealer and his muscle. They were bottom feeders, and Niki is better off without them." Amy scowled at him. "What? It's true!" he insisted.

"Anyway, we met Renata and Iosif there, the Russians I met a couple of summers ago. They told me that the CIA agent after me was working with Renata's deceased uncle, and she might have mentioned my name within the range of a CIA listening device. It's a mess. I have to explain it to them; maybe they'll leave me alone. If not, Christof should by now have evidence that the CIA was working with the Russian mob. Maybe that will make them back off. I'm sure Director Bannon will help."

"How are you such a magnet for trouble?" Amy shook her head in wonder.

"How are you so itty bitty?" he replied and got another swat.

"I should talk with Christof and see when he wants to head over to the CIA. I just thought I'd take care of more important stuff before I did." He reached out and grabbed his smiling sister and stood up to swing her around, something else he used to do so long ago. Amy giggled and screamed at him to stop, which he eventually did. He plopped her down on the couch cushions, and she put her head in her hands and moaned from her dizziness. He grinned down at her and nudged the sofa with his knee.

"Hey, are you gonna be okay?" he asked.

She pulled her hands away and looked up at him with love in her eyes. "Yes, thanks! Can you come with me when I go to see Jacquie again? Just for moral support!" she rushed to say when he started to frown.

"Fine. Let me deal with this annoying CIA thingy, then I'll do the important stuff with you," he grinned.

He made his way over to the door and paused as he exited. "Love you, squirt!"

"Love you back, Joe," was her reply.

Joe knocked on Christof's door, and a moment later, the gentleman opened it for him. "Ah, Joseph! Are you ready to speak with the CIA? I got some very interesting pictures from an anonymous source last night. Would you know anything about that? Wait, don't tell me. I don't need to know," he grinned.

Joe really got the impression that Christof was much happier these days. He'd been fairly reserved and rarely smiled, and now there always seemed to be a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. "You know, if we make you this unhappy, you can always quit." Joe teased. Christof just chuckled.

Joe told him and Selina what Renata and Iosif said the night before about why the CIA might be interested in Joe. They thanked him for bringing them up to speed.

For this trip, it would only be Christof and Selina accompanying Joe. Joe's parents were out on a date. Well, shopping really, but it promised to turn into dinner and maybe a movie as well. He was glad as they deserved some R&R on this trip. Director Bannon would meet them there.

The CIA building was far more daunting with its size and austerity. The tall granite slab with mirrored windows had all the warmth of a gravestone. Joe hoped it wasn't theirs. The lobby was equally cold and soulless. Bannon was there when they arrived and accompanied Christof to the reception clerk. They were directed to the first elevator bank. Joe endured the pat down in the security area when he failed the metal detector test. They all went up to the tenth floor and met a junior agent in the elevator lobby. She left them in a windowless conference room. Aside from the long rectangular table and its eight chairs, four to a side, the only other feature was a projection screen on the wall farthest from the door and a ceiling projector. The connectors for the projector came up through a hole in the center of the table.

"Pleasant place. Could use a picture or two," Joe quipped.

A man in an ugly grey suit barged into the room and was talking before he'd even made it past the threshold. "Hello, sorry to keep you waiting. I'm Director Rick Francesco. I've been given Mr. Neumann's case file. Pretty heavy stuff! Drug trafficking, human trafficking, arms dealing, and murder! If I'm not mistaken, I see you've brought along your lawyers and Director Roger Bannon of the NSA. Strange choice of council you keep, Mr. Neumann."

Joe didn't like Rick Francesco. First impression. There was a greasiness to the man that immediately put him off. He knew enough to keep his mouth shut, though.

"Oh! Are we playing that game? My case file on you says tax evader, serial rapist, wife beater, and child molester. Those sound equally horrifying. Well, maybe a little more." Christof opened with a solid hit as the twitch in Francesco's left eye indicated something in that list might have actually struck too close to home. They hoped it was the tax dodge.

Bannon snorted in surprise at Christof's words. He quickly controlled himself and glared at the man across the table. "Can we cut the bullshit for a second? Are there actual charges being brought against Mr. Neumann, or is this just based on the ranting from your rogue agent Harding?"

Francesco looked at the docket and saw it had indeed been filed by Special Agent Troy Harding. However, he would give more credence to one of his agents' testimony over the NSA.

Christof read the man's expression, so he looked over and nodded to Selina, who already had the projector's connection plugged into her tablet. She tapped out some instructions, and the projector came on, and they could hear it warming up.

"Here now, you can't connect to that unless you're authorized to, and it won't work without an access key!" Francesco growled. Suddenly, the screen filled with an image of Troy Harding with his arm around a grey-haired, thin-faced older man. Both had grins but were looking off to the camera's left as if unaware the picture was being taken, which, of course, they were. Selina stepped through the images showing Troy displaying weapons in the crates and Anton Gorokhov inspecting his purchase. The last picture was of the two men shaking hands. Troy had a thick silver briefcase in his hand. The same one that had been behind Anton in earlier images.

"You do recognize Anton Gorokhov? International drug trafficker, human trafficker, prostitution ring operator, and murderer of his brother and his family? Oh yes, let's not forget arms dealer, as we clearly see him purchasing weapons from Special Agent Harding. Is this the man who leveled charges against my client, who has never left the continental United States?" Christof's voice was just a little louder at the end. Not shouting, just emphasizing.

"Where did you get those images?" Rick growled.

"That's not an answer to Mr. Waechter's question, and it's nowhere near the right question to be asking at this point," Bannon growled back.

"How did you get past the projector's access code?" Francesco barked at Selina, who just smiled enigmatically.

"That's still not the answer to Mr. Waechter's question. If you're going to waste our time with this spurious crap, we will be on our way." Bannon snapped.

The CIA Director glared at Bannon and looked back at the file. When he looked up, he had a smug look on his face. "Why is Mr. Neumann's name mentioned in a recorded transcript from the Gorokhov home on the night of his murder?"

Christof looked to Joe. "Would you care to answer that question, Joseph?"

"Sure. I met Renata Gorokhov two summers ago when she was staying at a mansion on Mille Lacs Lake in Minnesota. She was confined to a wheelchair at the time. I did some... physical therapy with her, and afterward, she could walk. I made that all possible for her." Joe purposefully used the quote from Renata in hopes it was close enough to what was recorded to satisfy their suspicions. Considering the sour look on Francesco's face, he'd guessed correctly.

"If that is the ONLY evidence you have connecting my client to the real criminal Anton Gorokhov, I believe we are done here," Christof said, and the CIA Director deflated. Selina popped the cable out, and the screen went dark. They all stood and left the man in the darkened office.

When they reached the lobby, Director Bannon turned to Joe.

"Are there any more surprises, or can I have a couple of quiet days to prepare the presentation?"

Joe smiled. "I can't think of anything else that might surface."

Bannon shook his head with a small smile, then left with a wave.

On the way back to the hotel, Joe sat in the back seat going over what was said in the surprisingly short visit and was grateful for the assistance of the lawyers. He studied them and smiled to himself. He felt comforted that they were in his corner. He looked at Selina, who he was less familiar with. Something clicked in his mind, so he leaned forward and caught her attention.

"How did you crack the code to access the projector?" he said curiously.

She glanced at him over her shoulder and gave him a small smile. "A hobby of mine."

So, she would remain a mystery. Joe was... okay with that.

Chapter 16

The next day, Doug and Melissa picked up Joe and Amy. They went out for lunch at a lovely restaurant with a sidewalk patio, and they watched for celebrities as they munched their delicious meals.

Joe was able to leave his shades on, so he let his eyes snap to black and scoped out the area around him. Every once in a while, he'd feel eyes on him. Each time, it turned out to be admirers: the women seated across the aisle in the restaurant, a woman parking her car at the curb, a man waiting on the curb with a teacup Chihuahua in his arms until his boyfriend arrived, then both of them as they stopped to look. Joe was trying to see if he could detect intent in the looks, but they all felt the same. It would be really useful if he could learn to ignore the sensation of being watched when the observers were only admiring. Detecting hostile intent would be helpful, but it didn't look like that was possible. He had to admit he was getting a little distracted. When he felt Melissa's bare foot sliding up his leg, his attention snapped back.

"Ah! There he is!" she chuckled. "Where did you go?"

"Sorry, it's been such a chaotic week! Has it only been a week?" he gasped, looking at his sister in fake shock.

She giggled at his silly face. "Leave the acting to me, you ham!"

"Me just muscle-bound fool!" he aped at her and lifted his arms to flex them mightily while flashing his pearly whites at his sister.

There was a terrible crash as two distracted waiters collided, spilling their trays of dirty dishes.

"Joe, for heaven's sake, put those away before you kill someone!" Melissa teased.

Joe's face burned with embarrassment, and Amy giggled some more.

Doug was very relieved that Amy appeared to be returning to her upbeat self. He'd call Jacquie and let her know all was well. He felt a buzz in his pocket and took a peek at his cell without Melissa seeing it. It was Jacquie! Speak of the devil. He glanced at his sister to see her glaring at him.

"It's Amy's agent! I have to take this!" he reasoned.

Melissa rolled her eyes.

"Hey, Jacquie!" he said.

Amy leaned forward but couldn't hear the other side of the call.

"Yes, she's here with me. I'm out having lunch with her, her brother Joe, and you remember Mel? Yes. Amy? She's much better. All better, in fact! Yeah, it is a relief... Wow! Tonight? Hold on, let me ask."

Doug held the phone to his chest.

"Are you up for a party tonight? Jacquie arranged a bunch of invites to a party up in the hills at a famous director's house whose name I can't mention."

Amy was nodding so fast that Joe thought she might vibrate right off her chair. He grinned and nodded as well. Melissa smiled and nodded.

"Yes! We are all in! Thanks, Jacquie! See you there." He hung up. "And that's why you answer your cell at lunch in Hollywood!"

Melissa rolled her eyes again, and they all laughed.

"Uh, Joe? Do you think Selina might like to come to the party tonight?" Doug asked, a blush creeping up his throat.

Joe grinned at the man. "You should ask her. The worst thing that could happen is she might say yes."

Doug thought about that and grinned.

After lunch, Doug and Melissa dropped them off at their hotel so they could get cleaned up and dressed for the party. He said he'd pick them up at eight in the lobby that night.

Joe was resting in his room when he heard a rapid knocking on his door. He hurried over and opened it. Amy burst into his room, and she was almost frantic.

"It's ruined!" she cried.

"What is?" he said.

"My best dress! It must have snagged on something in my luggage." She showed Joe the big tear in the fabric.

"Oh, Amy, I'm so sorry," he said in sympathy, then flashed her a big smile. "Good thing we happen to be right on the edge of an amazing shopping district!" Joe exclaimed.

"I didn't budget for getting a new wardrobe!" Amy said.

"Luckily, your brother is loaded from working all those years. I'll buy you a dress, and when you become rich and famous, you can name an Oscar after me... and pay me for the dress."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Definitely," he replied.

"Then let's go! We only have four and a half hours until Doug picks us up!"

Amy was a tireless shopper, and Joe had to admit she looked good in everything. But she was looking for a cocktail dress with a wow factor of thirteen on a scale of ten. Joe already had his clothes for the party ready, thanks to Mr. Fukui. While Amy dragged him from shop to shop, he did spot a few nice things for himself, but they only replaced the shirts, shorts, and underwear that had been blown up recently. He had only one small bag for himself, but he bought a sundress, two skirts, three blouses, and some casual wear for Amy.

But no party dress. Amy was becoming despondent.

Then Joe spotted a small boutique near the end of the block, a little off the beaten trail. He dragged Amy there and pushed her through the door. He heard her gasp before he entered the door himself. Amy was standing before a mannequin wearing a dazzling black cocktail dress. It was bare on one shoulder, and the fabric was deepest black, but from left shoulder to right hip, it glittered like the Milky Way.

Additionally, cutouts were strategically placed across the torso and over the hip, hinting at the wonders beneath.

It was stunning!

A woman came to stand beside Amy, and they shared a silent appreciation of the dress. She was a tiny, delicate, older Japanese woman and dressed elegantly. Joe looked around and guessed that she might have been the proprietor as no one else was in the store.

Amy trembled as she reached behind the neck of the dress and looked at the tag.

Joe saw her begin to vibrate, so he knew it was the right size. The next question was, would it fit well?

Amy looked at the woman who reached over and carefully removed the dress from the mannequin. She handed it to Amy, who held it up in front of herself as she looked in the full-length mirror. Joe was amazed at how good it looked already. Amy caught a look at the tag and froze. Joe glanced down and saw it was two-thousand-eight-hundred and fifty dollars. He looked closer at the dress and realized it was probably hand-sewn and one of a kind.

Amy looked stricken. Like someone had just yanked her out of the grandest dream she'd ever experienced. Joe thought that's probably exactly what happened.

"Try it on," he said gently.

"Joe, I can't. If I love it, I'll die. If I don't love it, I might die anyway. It's so expensive."

"Amy, this is your future calling. Get in the freakin' dress," Joe said.

She flicked a glance at him, then slowly stepped into the dressing room with the dress. Minutes passed. Joe looked around the store. As the dress was off one shoulder and Amy had such lovely, long blond hair, he thought it might look nice if it cascaded over the bare shoulder. He spotted a few combs with glittering stones that she could probably use to arrange her hair that way. The Japanese woman watched him, and the light came on behind her eyes as she realized what he was going for. They found three identical combs that might work when they heard the creak of the dressing room door open. Amy stepped out, and Joe gasped. She looked incredible in the dress! She began to turn to face the mirror.

"Stop! Wait!" Joe said urgently, and Amy froze.

Joe and the woman stepped forward, teased Amy's hair up, and pinned it in place with the combs. They stood back and smiled at each other, pleased with the effect they'd produced. The woman looked down and examined Amy's foot. She raised her finger and went into the back room. A few seconds later, she came out with a dusty box. She carefully opened it, and inside was a pair of black glittery shoes. The heels weren't high but lovely, and their design complimented the dress. She placed them on the floor, and Amy stepped into them.

Joe's eyes widened when he saw the entire package. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

"Oh, Amy. Take a look," his voice cracked. She was trembling as she moved in front of the mirror.

"Oh my god, Joe! Oh my god!" She was shivering so hard that the dress threw off glittering light reflected from the halogen spots above.

Joe turned to the woman. "We'll take it. The dress, the shoes, the combs. The lot."

"JOE! You can't! It's too expensive!" she cried, but her eyes begged him to do it.

He turned to the woman and bowed deeply. He wasn't sure what the etiquette was, but he wanted her to know he was deeply impressed with the craftsmanship and quality of the dress.

The woman was very pleased and bowed in return. She moved away to begin the transaction. Joe walked back to Amy and stood behind her. She was still admiring how the light seemed to shimmer across the dress like shooting stars. She reached up gently to touch the three combs, which gave her hair the cascading waterfall effect over her shoulder.

"Oh, Joe, I can't repay this kindness! It's just too much!" she whispered. Joe saw tears brimming up in her eyes. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and dabbed her eyes.

"Amy, it's your future calling. Don't cry on the expensive dress!" he smirked.

She nodded, and he pushed her gently toward the change room. A few minutes later, she was out, and they brought the items to the cash. Joe dropped his credit card into the little brass tray with his driver's license by the cash register. The woman nodded and rang through the purchase. They were ready to leave the store thirty-eight hundred dollars later with Amy's neatly folded and bagged purchases. Joe had picked up a couple of the woman's business cards and asked for more, which pleased the woman even more. Joe expected to be handing some out at the party tonight. He also wanted one for a certain gentleman who made him some outfits. He'd ask Christof to pass it along.

The woman held up a finger to Joe when Amy headed for the door. She reached below the counter and brought up a small glittery clutch purse with the same stones as the combs. She smiled and put it in Joe's shopping bag. She held a finger to her lips and winked. It was a surprise for Amy. He bowed once more quickly, and she smiled.

They returned to the hotel, and Joe dropped her packages off in Amy's room. She clung to his chest for a full minute, squeezing as hard as she could and thanking him repeatedly. He promised to return just before eight to put the combs back in her hair.

"How did you know how to do that?" she asked.

"I don't know. When we were kids, I used to play with your hair a lot, and I just knew it would look better that way. We were just lucky she had three identical combs. See you soon," he said, returning to his room to lie down. Shopping with women exhausted him like nothing else.

His alarm went off at seven-thirty. He freshened up and got dressed. He put on the black shirt to compliment Amy's dress. He went to his sister's room and knocked on her door. She answered, wearing the dress. Again, it took his breath away. She hadn't put the combs in, but she'd washed her hair so it shone like gold. It had been easier with the shop woman's hands assisting him, but with the clever use of the bathroom mirror and positioning Amy's helping hands just so, he was able to recreate and maybe even improve on his prior design. He grabbed her brush and teased the hair on the opposite side of her head until it showed some shape and seemed to compliment the golden cascade he made over her other shoulder. He was concentrating so hard on making it look right he missed the look on Amy's face. It was a mix of astonishment and suppressed laughter.

"Oh. My. God. You should have seen your face, Joe! If this bodyguard thing gets dull, you have such a career in hairstyling!" Then the laughter came. Joe wasn't sure how he felt about that, so he answered the door when he heard a knock.

"Amy! Mom and Dad are here!" Joe yelled.

"Wait, wait! I don't have my shoes. Joe! Bring me my shoes!" she closed the bathroom door so they wouldn't see until she was completely dressed. His Mom and Dad walked into the seating area and sat down. Joe handed the shoes in through the door, then sat down next to his Mom.

"Ready!" Joe called out, and his dad got his camera ready to take her picture.

A few seconds later, Amy stepped out of the bathroom and approached the seating area. The smile on her face was precious, and it was all for Joe. He heard his Mom gasp and squeal, a sound he'd never heard from her before, and his father was stunned speechless. Joe had tears in his eyes and realized his dad did too. His mom leapt to her feet and rushed to her daughter to hold her hands. The two of them were grinning at each other like fools. She couldn't get over how lovely Amy's hair was. When she found out that Joe did it, she looked back at her son with something like awe.

"Mom! It's just hair!" he said, embarrassed.

"No, it's art!" she refuted.

Joe wiped the tears away and said, "Well, there's one more item to complete the look. Joe pulled out the little clutch purse. Amy and Clara squealed again, and Karl and Joe held their ears in mock dismay. Amy opened up the clutch and saw something inside. There were two silver rings. One was a crescent moon, and one was the sun. They assumed they were just costume jewelry, but they really completed the celestial theme. She put one on each hand and held the clutch in her left hand.

"You look incredible, sweetheart!" Karl said to his daughter, a big lump in his throat.

"You are so beautiful!" Clara gushed.

"My little sister's all grown up. No longer the ugly duckling." Joe agreed with a grin.

While Clara and Amy gushed about her hair, Karl pulled Joe aside. "How much did that outfit set you back?"

"All in it cost thirty-eight hundred. The most I've spent on anything. Aside from the reno on the house, I've barely touched the money I made on that, so I can afford it. Amy's worth it; tonight, she is meeting some really big names, so she has to impress. It's an investment in her future, and I think it'll pay off."

"I'm really proud of you, son," Karl said, that lump in his throat returning.

Joe gave his dad a big hug, and the man returned it. Suddenly, Joe felt two more sets of arms encircling him as his mom and sister got in on the hug action.

"Can I get some pictures before you two go?" Clara asked, grabbing the unused camera from her husband's hands.

"Sure," they said in unison.

Doug was downstairs standing in the lobby when Joe and Amy stepped from the elevator. His head did a double take when he saw Amy.

"Wow! You look stunning!" he gushed.

Amy did a little curtsey and smiled broadly.

"We're just waiting for Selina," Doug said. When he saw the siblings grinning at him, he pinked up.

The elevator dinged, and Selina stepped off to walk toward them. Considering the tight sheath of her dress went down to just above her knees, it was amazing that she could walk at all. Her toned athletic body was gloriously wrapped in a gold material that hinted at the wonders within. Doug's jaw dropped, and he froze.

"Good evening, Douglas," she purred.

Doug's mouth snapped shut. "You look exquisite tonight, Selina." That earned him a demure smile.

"Where's Melissa?" Joe asked.

"She's waiting for us in the car," Doug said, unable to tear his eyes away from Selina.

"Let's not keep the lady waiting then," Joe said, and they left.

-=-

When they arrived at the party, they left the car with the valet service, and Joe finally got a good look at Melissa. Her red hair shone like fire, and her slinky red dress showed a daring amount of cleavage, which Joe had difficulty tearing his eyes from... much to her delight. When she chuckled at his embarrassment at being caught, the vibrations did wonderful things to distract Joe even more. She hooked her arm through his and walked up to the door. Doug was there with Selina on his arm, giving their names. The doorman nodded, and they all walked inside.

Jacquie Rosen was obviously keeping an eye on the door as she swooped in when Amy made her appearance.

"AMY! You look GORGEOUS!" the woman said, just a little too loud. It had the desired effect as heads turned to take in the ravishing blond beauty standing under the lights at the entrance. Her dress also had its desired effect and used that light to shimmer like it was alive. As the light show danced across Amy's torso from shoulder to hip, more heads turned.

Jacquie took Amy's arm and led her away before people had gotten a good look at her. Better to keep them wanting more, she thought. They were on a mission, and she had people for Amy to meet.

Joe watched Amy's agent scoop up his sister and lead her away. He smiled. "It begins," he thought.

He looked at the beautiful woman on his arm and felt... good. He stepped into the party.

-=-

Joe was standing alone out on the balcony overlooking the lights of Los Angeles below. He was feeling the effects of his drinks and was nursing a water at Melissa's suggestion. She was inside reminiscing with an actor she'd partied with years before. It was not something Joe felt comfortable sharing, so he'd come out to get some air. He wasn't jealous. They weren't a couple, so he had no expectations of her. But he wasn't as much of a free spirit as her, so it made him a little uncomfortable to watch her get touchy-feely with someone else moments after she had been pressing up against him.

He took another swig of his water and watched the twinkling lights.

He felt that sensation of being watched tingle up his spine. He'd felt it all night. Kind of hard to avoid at a party. But this time, it was sustained and felt like more than one person. Joe turned his back to the lights below and saw a gorgeous dark-skinned beauty roaming her eyes over his body. Joe quickly guessed that she was in her late forties, but it was hard to tell because her doctors did an excellent job keeping time at bay. The dead giveaway of this surgical intervention were her hands. While she had a twenty-year-old's perfectly round and gravity-defying breasts, her hands told a different story. Doctors had yet to be able to keep hands looking young. Behind her stood a large black man with a cold look in his eyes. Joe didn't recognize the man, so he wasn't sure where the hostility came from.

"Hello," the woman said.

"Hi," he replied.

"I'm Sasha Gordon."

"Joe Neumann."

"Yes, we know. The fellow behind me is my personal bodyguard, Ven. I believe you met his cousin backstage at Talia's little concert," she said, making Talia's little concert sound like a frivolous waste of time.

"I met a few people backstage. Would you be referring to the little man who tried to make a point with a right hook?" Joe asked calmly.

Ven moved forward, and Sasha pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

"Indeed, that would be Marcus. Too much temper and not enough wit," Sasha said with a grin. She obviously had no part in this dispute, so Joe was intrigued.

"Is there something Ven would like to say to me?" Joe asked her.

She chuckled. "He would, but as I'm at this lovely party to have fun and not to witness wanton property destruction, I'm acting as arbiter and envoy. This way, he remains in my employ."

Joe thought about that for a moment. "Am I to assume Ven would like to participate in some demonstration of physical superiority in an effort to regain lost family honor or exact revenge?"

Sasha grinned widely. She was enjoying this. "Yes, I believe that is the case."

Joe pretended to think deeply about the issue. He looked up to them both. "Does Ven realize that his family honor could be restored simply by a public apology from Marcus?"

"My boy Marcus almost lost his fingers, and he lost his job because of you," Ven started forward again to be held back once more with a hand on his chest.

Joe remained calm. "No. Marcus lost his job because he wasn't doing it properly. Instead, he was picking fights with me. I hadn't heard about his fingers, but maybe he'll think twice about wearing brass knuckles again."

Ven glanced nervously at Sasha, who realized that he was behaving much like his younger cousin. She seemed to be reassessing his value.

Joe saw the wheels turning in Sasha's head and didn't want to be responsible for another man losing his job, regardless of being at fault.

"Okay, I'll tell you what. I'm not interested in a big knock-down brawl, but I haven't exercised in a few days, and I'd really appreciate a little workout. To settle this like the gentlemen we are, how about we arm wrestle on that table over there. It looks sturdy enough." Joe pointed to the small, welded iron table next to the railing. It had two iron chairs, so Joe was sure it could withstand a fair amount of stress. Gauging the enormous size of Ven's biceps, Joe expected quite the epic battle.

Ven grinned when he saw Joe checking out his guns. By contrast, Joe was not as developed.

Sasha's eyes flashed. This was definitely becoming exciting.

Ven and Joe picked up the heavy table, carried it to the center of the deck, and moved the chairs next to it. They sat down opposite each other. People at the party caught the activity on the patio, and a crowd gathered.

"Before you two get started, let's discuss the terms. Should you win, Joe, what do you want?"

Joe looked into the sneering face of his opponent. Ven obviously thought he had this one tied up. He stared the man directly in the eye and said, "I want Ven to convince his cousin to formally apologize for his breach of professionalism. I want him to take his cousin under his wing and teach him how maintaining his cool is far more impressive than brute force. I want him to help Marcus get another chance."

Ven was taken aback. He hadn't expected that.

Sasha smiled. She liked how Joe worked. He'd just undermined Ven's reason for winning.

"Do you agree to these terms, Ven?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure," he said gruffly.

"And if you win, Ven?"

He needed to rattle Joe like he'd been. Get back some ground. Nothing like going after family.

"If I win, Joe has to convince that pretty little sister of his to go on a date with me," he said, looking into Joe's eyes. He pulled back and blinked, feeling a little uneasy. For a split second, he could have sworn that Joe's eyes were completely black. Scary as fuck!

Sasha was displeased with Ven's choice, but it was his to make. "Do you agree to these terms, Joe?" she asked.

"No. He just proved he isn't worthy. Choose again," Joe growled.

Ven was seriously pissed now and losing ground with his boss. Maybe there was something she wanted. He looked at her. "After I beat him, I'll have all I need. Maybe there's something you'd like from him?" From the sparkle in her eye, he guessed he'd just saved his job.

"What could I possibly want? Let me see..." She eyed Joe like a delectable piece of chocolate she was ready to devour. "There was something about a kiss for which there are no words."

Joe felt uneasy under her predator's stare, but he nodded. "Agreed."

By now, a good portion of the party had gathered to watch the battle. Joe sat forward and placed his right elbow on the lovely glazed tabletop tiles, with his hand ready for Ven. He wrapped the fingers of his left hand around the table's edge. Ven positioned himself similarly across the table. Sasha guided their hands, and once they had locked their right hands together, she put hers on top.

"When I release, you will begin," she said loudly for the audience's benefit. She looked into Joe's eyes and licked her lips.

He wasn't prepared when she suddenly yanked her hands away, and Ven went in for the kill. Joe managed to stop Ven's progress, but he was at forty-five-degrees and barely holding.

The crowd yelled their dissatisfaction with how Sasha had distracted Joe, but she kept her eyes on him. Ven's muscles trembled and jerked as he tried to force Joe's arm back and down, but the arm wouldn't move.

Joe's muscles didn't tremble or budge no matter how hard Ven slammed his strength against the arm. Joe looked around the crowd until he caught the eye of his sister. She smiled back at him, full of confidence in him. He nodded to her, then turned to face Ven. The man was breathing hard, and sweat was beading on his head.

"Are you ready to concede?" Joe asked Ven through his teeth.

Ven ignored the man's bravado. He knew he could take him. It was just a matter of physics. He was stronger. He wasn't sure how Joe had locked his arm like this, but he would break it off it he had to. He continued his surges.

Joe got a better grip on the table with his left hand. He didn't notice the thick iron frame folding inwards under his fingers, nor did he hear the creak of the protesting metal. He was totally concentrating on the timing of Ven's thrusts. Just as Ven eased off between pushes, Joe unlocked his muscles and began to push in earnest.

Ven felt the lock give and immediately poured his strength into his next thrust. He grinned as Joe's arm dipped down another five degrees, and the crowd yelled as they saw his victory getting closer. Then he realized he was losing ground. Joe didn't slam against him. He just pushed. Steadily, slowly, but with an undeniable force. Ven redoubled his efforts and grimaced with the painful struggle. Joe was breathing like a bellows through his nose, but his face was calm, and his eyes were focused directly on Ven's.

Soon, they were back to vertical. Ven couldn't believe this was happening. Sasha was yelling at him to start pushing. He looked at her like she was mad. START pushing?!? He looked back at Joe.

"Last chance," Joe said.

"FUCK YO- AARRGH!" he screamed as Joe suddenly poured it on and slammed the man's arm to the table. Ven fell to the floor, nursing his strained arm.

There was an enormous cheer. Joe stood up and helped Ven to his feet. "You okay?" he asked.

Ven was a little dazed, but he nodded.

"I trust you're a man of your word," Joe said.

The bodyguard looked at Joe and just saw an earnest expression there. He nodded. Joe held out his hand, and they shook gently. More cheering ensued.

Joe turned back to Sasha, who wasn't pleased with Ven.

"That was a dirty trick you pulled," he told the woman.

She shrugged. "All's fair in love and war." She moved closer and closer. "You're not going to hold that against me, are you?" She tried a sexy pout as a last chance to sway him.

"Yes, I am, but that's the only thing I'm going to hold against you," Joe replied and walked away.

Ven glanced at the table and saw the edge that Joe's grip had bent in. He walked to the other side of the table, but his side showed no sign of the hold he'd had. He tried unbending the metal on Joe's side, but it wouldn't budge. He looked at his fingers and saw the raw scratches. "The man's a fucking machine!" he mumbled to himself.

Joe found his sister surrounded by some of his friends and a chubby man with wild hair and a full beard. This man rushed forward and pumped Joe's hand while grinning almost manically. "You made me ten thousand dollars tonight!" he said excitedly.

"Hi, I'm Joe," he said.

"Oh! Sorry! I'm Ben Gordon! The host of tonight's party."

"My apologies for not recognizing you, sir! Lovely party!" Joe blushed as he saw Amy's mortified look.

"No worries! You were amazing out there! Bent the SHIT out of that table, then tossed the guy to the floor. Wow! Amazing!" He was seriously excited.

Joe glanced over his shoulder and saw many people inspecting the table's edge. Each made an attempt to straighten the metal to no avail.

"I'm so sorry about the table. I can go fix it if you like?" Joe blurted and started moving towards the patio.

Ben grabbed his arm and looked up at him in shock. "You can? I mean—of course you can, but please don't! That will be a conversation piece for years. I was worried the party would be dull, then Jacquie introduced me to Amy, and I saw what she could do. She's as talented as she is gorgeous!

Then I had Clash of the Titans re-enacted on my patio! The betting action was hot and heavy, and I'm sorry to say I was seriously going to bet against you! I mean, look at that guy's arms! But Amy had such unshakable confidence in you. She knew you were going to win. Odds were ten to one against you, but I threw in a thousand bucks based on that little lady's smile. Boy, did it pay off!"

Joe smiled, and Melissa rescued him by swooping in and hooking her arm through his. "And I heard you almost had to give away the goodies to the Wicked Witch herself."

Ben's name finally sunk into Joe's mind. Same surname as Sasha. He glanced in shock at Melissa.

Their host saw the lights come on in Joe's eyes and smiled. "Yeah, she's my ex. Always crashes my parties and typically leaves with someone to take back to her lair to drain the life from. It was especially satisfying to see you put her in her place. Hey, listen, I have to speak with my producers about a project Amy inspired. Jacquie, I will be speaking with you this week. It was so great seeing you all. Joe, thanks again for that epic win! And the bet, too!" He shook Joe's hand vigorously, then scuttled away to grab three balding men standing by the bar. They headed to a room off limits to the party.

"Wow, he has a lot of energy!" Joe remarked.

"I don't think we've been formally introduced. I'm Jacquie Rosen." To Joe, her sharp features reminded him of a fox. It was just an observation and not a criticism. She was doing good things for Amy, which made her okay, in Joe's opinion.

"Hi, Joe Neumann."

"Yes, you are. Ever do any acting Joe?" she asked.

"No, thank you. I have no skill for it and no desire to do it. Amy won that genetic prize." Once the words were out of his mouth, his mood dipped. Amy noticed immediately and touched his arm. Jacquie missed the real context but thought it was a sweet gesture none-the-less.

Joe smiled weakly at his sister and then asked Melissa if there was any food.

"The party is starting to break up, so we were talking about heading back to Doug's for a late dinner. Apparently, he was preparing something this afternoon on the off chance that we might do exactly that. I'm not sure where he is, though." She looked around and didn't see her brother. Or Selina, for that matter. Interesting.

Joe saw Selina approaching their group from the hall that led to the billiards room and the washrooms. She still looked stunning! Joe thought something was different about the woman, but he couldn't quite place it. She had a faint smile on her lips, and something about how she moved reminded him of a jungle cat, a top predator. He casually directed Melissa's attention, and she immediately began to chuckle. It turned into a groan when she caught sight of her slightly disheveled brother, trying to look casual but failing miserably. Melissa handed Joe the valet ticket as she slipped away to save her brother's dignity.

Amy kissed her agent on her cheek, and Joe shook her hand. Selina tipped her head and smiled, and Jacquie bid them all good night. Joe put out his elbows, and Amy and Selina placed their hands on his arms, and he led them to the front door. Once the car arrived, Joe helped Selina and his sister get into the back seat and slid in beside Selina. Shortly, Melissa came out the front door with her brother. He took the front passenger seat, and Melissa slipped behind the wheel again.

"Melissa, could you drop me off at the hotel? I'm exhausted," Amy asked.

"Sure," Melissa said as she glanced back. She looked at Joe and Selina. "Would you two like to join us for dinner?"

Joe and Selina both nodded, and he saw Selina smile and share a look with Doug, who'd turned in his seat to see their answer.

The drive back to the hotel was pretty quiet; everyone seemed caught up in their thoughts. The four drove to Doug's once Amy was safely delivered to the front door. He served some amazing Spanish wine and brought out a large dish with Paella, which smelled wonderful. Joe's mouth was watering. Selina ate more than he'd ever seen her put away. Melissa ate sparingly, but Joe refilled his plate three times, much to Doug's delight. The conversation centered around travel and Spain in general. Melissa had obviously visited due to her job. Selina traveled extensively for pleasure and business and was intimately familiar with Europe. Doug visited Spain for a vacation and discovered paella. Selina paid him the ultimate compliment when she told him that his dish was by far the most delicious paella she'd ever had. They all raised a toast to that, and the mood continued to improve as the wine diminished. They finished on the lounges out on the patio. Once the wine was gone, Selina stood and took Doug's hand. He stood, and they walked hand in hand into the condo. Melissa smiled at Joe and climbed onto his lounge. She moved up his body until she was covering his with hers.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he replied with a smile. He put his hands on her back and slid them down to cup her ass.

"Ooo! Cheeky fellow!" she giggled, then moaned as he kneaded her flesh in his big hands. She leaned in and kissed him, sucking gently on his lips. Joe caressed her mouth with his, careful to keep his tongue out of the play. With his left hand on her ass, Joe raised his right hand to cup her breast. Melissa sucked in a breath as he gently ran his thumb across her nipple.

Melissa sat up on Joe, pressing herself against the bulge in is pants. She rolled her hips and enjoyed the feeling of him against her. She reached down, undid his shirt's buttons, and pushed it back to expose his smooth chest. Melissa slid down and began to kiss Joe's chest. She ran her tongue over his nipples and felt him respond. She sat up again and thrilled over the feel of his muscular chest under her hands. So much densely packed power. She slid downward some more and undid the button and zipper of his pants. Joe effortlessly arched his body up between his shoulders and heels, lifting Melissa up as well. She yelped, then giggled as she clung to his legs and watched Joe slide his pants down as far as he could with her sitting on his legs. When he returned to the lounge, Melissa got off of his legs and pulled his pants down to his ankles. She looked up to see he was at half mast and rising. She gripped it with both hands, marveling at the heat and smoothness of his skin. She felt his pulse beating and leaned down to press her lips to it.

Joe gasped as Melissa's soft lips explored him. She used her tongue and lips to do things he'd never experienced before, and he writhed with ecstasy. When she suddenly took him into her mouth and pushed as much of it inside as she could, the air left Joe's lungs.

Using her hands, mouth, and tongue, she kept Joe's mind spinning as she began to speed up. She heard Joe begin to pant and say her name. She loved that this huge man was under her control, gasping at her moves and begging her for release, but not yet. Now, she wanted Joe to return the favor. She released him and stood up. She pulled her dress up and over her head and slid her panties off as well. She tugged on Joe's legs, and he got the idea, sliding himself a little further down the lounge to give her room to move up. Melissa straddled Joe's face. Before she descended, she saw him look at her, then up to her eyes. He knew what was expected of him. She lowered herself and got comfortable.

Joe gently used his lips on Melissa as she gasped, pressing herself more firmly against his face. He tried to keep his tongue from touching any surface, but that was easier said than done with Melissa grinding against him. The occasional flash got through, and she'd make a gentle yip sound. He felt her lock her fingers in his hair as she began to rock forward and back on him. By this point, she was breathing hard, so he decided it was time. Pulling back slightly, Joe flattened his tongue and ran it from bottom to top. He clamped down on the surge as best he could, but Melissa still cried out with pleasure as her sensitive nerves exploded with the tingling sensation. Joe dipped his tongue deeply inside her on his second pass, and Melissa's cries went ultrasonic. Her mouth was open, and she was shaking, but no sound was coming out. Her release was pounding through her, and her nerves were close to oversaturation. Joe pulled his tongue back, and Melissa would have collapsed from the sudden removal of the stimulation, but Joe had a good grip on the woman.

He sat up and slid her trembling body down his chest. Before she could react, Joe slid himself all the way to her depths in one move. Melissa's eyes shot open from the sudden fullness. Joe's hands gripped her hips as he lifted and dropped her repeatedly. Melissa's body shook with the sensations exploding through her.

She had no strength left and rested her face on Joe's shoulder as he went faster and faster. She was lost in the feel of his flesh forcing its way deep inside her, only to retreat. She felt another orgasm building, but this one felt huge. She was distantly aware that she was actually feeling their combined orgasms as their nerves synchronized, and she wondered how that was possible. Then they peaked. Joe kissed her.

She was in heaven. It was pure pleasure and a bright, white light. At first, she thought she was leaving her body, but it was right there. She was falling out of sync with Joe. She felt a little sad about that, but the light cleansed her body and soul. It was good, so she rested.

Joe came to his senses, sitting on the lounge with his arms around Melissa's limp body. Her head was on his shoulder, and she was drooling on his chest. He was still inside her, though he was no longer hard. Moving carefully, he spun around slowly on the lounge and rested Melissa on the cushions. He pulled himself free and realized he had nothing to clean himself and Melissa with. He looked toward the condo. Maybe he could reach the kitchen if Doug and Selina were occupied. He went to the door and heard no sounds at all. He hurried into the kitchen and grabbed some paper towels. He snuck back to the patio, cleaned up as best he could, and gathered Melissa in his arms. He returned to the doorway but still didn't hear any sounds, so he stealthily went down the hall to Melissa's room. Just as he rounded the corner, he came face to face with an equally naked Selina carrying her carefully folded clothes. They both froze. Joe got a good look at her. Selina got a good look at him. Then they both smiled and went their separate ways. Joe put Melissa on the bed and pulled the covers up on her. He walked back out and noticed Selina was standing by the front door, looking back at him.

"Joseph, would you be so kind as to lock up behind me? It's a deadbolt, so it must be locked from the inside. I must leave as I have an early call with Natalya I must make with Christof." While she seemed oblivious to the fact that he was standing there naked, Selina seemed more uncomfortable about him seeing her slip away in the night.

"Sure. Please send her my regards," Joe said.

"I will, goodnight!" Then she was gone. Joe locked up and went onto the patio to pick up their discarded clothing. After locking the patio door, he wished he could have shared a cab back to the hotel tonight with Selina. As much fun as he'd had with Melissa tonight, that's all it was. Fun.

He was coming to realize that he wanted more. But then, was that even possible with his... difference? There would be no children. He couldn't offer that to the woman he fell in love with. The thought depressed him terribly.

He put Melissa's dress on her bed and looked at her sleeping peacefully. She was a free spirit and had no real desire to settle down any time soon. Why should she? He thought she was a beautiful and vivacious woman with a warm heart and a good head on her shoulders. But she wasn't for him.

He put his pants on and went to the guest room he had used the last time he was here. He climbed onto the bed to sleep on top of the sheets, but once again, sleep took a long time to drag him under.

Chapter 17

Doug was an early riser. He always had been. He greeted the rising sun from his patio with a mug of coffee in his hand every day. They were old friends, and the routine was familiar and comforting.

But this morning felt special. The rising sun seemed brighter, and the air from the sea felt fresher. He knew why, of course. Selina. She'd opened his eyes to new experiences last night that had brought them both exquisite pleasure. She knew what she wanted and took it, and Doug was just happy to be part of her life for those moments. He had no illusions that he was forming any kind of long-term relationship with the woman. She had already laid in the course for her life, which suited her just fine. She was willing to share moments with special friends, and he felt honored to be counted as one.

Doug felt a sense of peace radiating through his body. He was in the moment, and it was good.

He heard a noise behind him and saw Joe stepping onto the patio. He nodded to the young man and tried to get a read on him to see how his night had been. What his sister did was her own business, but he'd come to like Joe and Amy and knew they had different values. Joe had smudges under his eyes like he hadn't slept well, and his expression was a little sad.

"I hope you don't mind me saying so, Joe, but you look a little down this morning. Everything okay?" he said gently.

Joe looked a little embarrassed like he'd thought he'd hid his emotions better than he did.

"Yeah, I haven't been sleeping too well recently. Too much on my mind, I guess," he said.

"One of the bonuses that comes with age is perspective. I could lend you a little if you feel like talking about it. It's free! Granted, the perspective comes from the mind of a thirty-year-old lawyer from California," he said, smiling.

Joe smiled gratefully. He did need to speak to someone about this. Someone who wasn't family.

"Yeah, if you don't mind, I would like to ask something. Get another viewpoint on it." Joe sat on the edge of a lounge chair and leaned his elbows on his knees. He gathered his somewhat rattled thoughts. He knew he couldn't tell Doug anything he was supposed to keep secret, but there was enough he could say.

"I discovered recently that I'm... not fertile. I can't get a woman pregnant," he said, his throat tightening. It was still too raw a topic to deal with unemotionally.

"I'm sorry, Joe," Doug said. He could see the young man was hurting. He sat down on a lounge across from him.

"I've had a few recent... bumps in my life plan." He snorted softly. "It's funny. I didn't even know I had a plan until the bumps came along and knocked it away. It wasn't even that grand of a plan, but I guess it was comfortable and mine. Now, I can't even see my future."

"If you can't see your future, maybe you're still looking at it through the filter of your expectations," Doug suggested.

Joe looked up at Doug with a puzzled expression.

"There's a song with lyrics that say you see what you want to see and you hear what you want to hear, which is largely true. Our perception of the world is greatly influenced by our expectations, what we expect to experience and want to experience. When life diverts from this, and it will because, let's face it, life doesn't give a crap about our hopes and dreams, we experience either joy or disappointment based on our perception of the difference being positive or negative.

Difference alone is often perceived as negative. Since the expectation wasn't real in the first place, our perception of life not matching it should be meaningless.

We must acknowledge that the purpose of making plans is to give our lives a sense of direction, like a rough outline. If we can learn to accept that change is a major component in life and try not to label what it throws at us as either good or bad, but just different, odds are we'll lead far happier lives as a result. It's not easy, but it is something we can learn to do."

Doug could see Joe digesting his words. "I hope I wasn't too harsh."

Joe shook his head. "No, it was good. What you said makes sense, but I'm so close to it that I'm still reeling from the initial blow. I guess I'll need time to recover from that."

Joe looked at Doug and smiled. Some of the weight seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders.

"Thank you for everything, Doug! You've been an awesome host to Amy and me! And a good friend. Thank you!" Joe said.

"It has been my pleasure. Melissa introduces me to so many amazing people. I'm grateful she brought you two into my life. I wouldn't have met Selina!" Doug said earnestly.

Joe blushed, recalling seeing her last night. "Speaking of the lawyers, I'm going to head back to the hotel and check in with them. I assume Melissa will remain asleep for a few more hours. We had a very good time last night, so I wouldn't worry if she sleeps even until this time tomorrow." Joe hinted, but that's all he could do.

Doug snorted at the idea of Melissa being that worn out. "Did you want some breakfast before you go?" he asked.

Joe grinned. "No, that's fine. You've given me enough food for thought."

-=-

When he reached the hotel's restaurant, Joe found Christof and Selina sitting side by side, having breakfast. Selina's ever-present tablet was active as she pointed something out to her partner. Both looked fresh and ready for the day.

Joe had gone to his room to freshen up and get changed before heading to the restaurant, but his eyes still showed the bruises from lack of sleep. Luckily, his black eye was long gone.

He greeted his lawyers and took the table next to them. As usual, the waitress was at his elbow before he'd had time to put his napkin on his lap. She gave him a big, cheery smile and asked if he'd like coffee. Instead, he asked for a large glass of milk, and she rushed off to get it.

Christof chuckled, and Joe looked over.

"I don't believe I will ever get over how much faster service is at any table you sit at, Joseph," he said with a grin. Joe responded with a weak smile. The waitress had already returned with his milk, so he thanked her. He asked for a minute to look at the menu, and she scooted away dutifully.

"Joseph, have you spoken with your parents? I believe they would like to head home either today or tomorrow. Karl has been away from the farm for too long, it seems. Selina and I will leave with them as we are their flight home, and we will stay in contact with you from New York. I've received word from Director Bannon. He will be making his presentation at the Washington Bureau in three days. He would like you to be present for this if you are amenable. I will join you there."

"Washington? Why do I feel like I'm walking into the spider's den?" Joe said nervously.

Christof paused a moment and looked at Joe, considering the options.

"No, it's all right, Christof. Please let Director Bannon know I'm at his disposal. Wait—don't say it like that."

Christof chuckled. "Not to worry, Joseph. I will be there with you. There is no trap we cannot escape between my words and your strength, yes? And we have the payload ready to be distributed should they fail to cooperate. The test payload is in place and will be released at nine-thirty AM Eastern time three days from now."

Joe nodded at Christof. He looked at the menu, then caught the waitress' attention. She was only two tables away, cleaning a clean fork. Joe gave her his order and smiled at the attentive girl. Beaming, she skipped away to get his food prep started immediately.

One of the front desk clerks stopped at his table and delivered a large manila envelope. Christof raised an eyebrow. Joe opened the envelope, and inside was a short handwritten note signed by Agent Pepper and Agent Ringo. They'd been given some assistance. Joe now had a crew of two for night duty, and inside were their pictures. Again, no names. The photos showed it was another man and woman team. The male agent was black, maybe late thirties, but his hair, like Agent Pepper's, was also salt and pepper, so Joe dubbed him Agent Salt.

The woman was of Native American origin, young, maybe mid-twenties, with long, straight black hair, a strong nose, high cheekbones, and scary-intense eyes. Perhaps it was just a bad picture, or maybe the intensity of her stare was always cranked to the max. He chuckled. She became Agent Max.

The note indicated the switchover would happen sometime between seven and nine each night and seven and nine each morning.

The last part of the note indicated that this was the weirdest surveillance job any of them had ever had. The target was never notified of their presence.

Joe knew Agent Ringo was currently in the lobby, looking like a traveler reading email on her cell. He could just make out her knees and the cell in her hands, which was probably feeding her a live video of him waiting for breakfast. Pepper was nowhere to be seen now, and Joe couldn't feel him watching, so he might be outside.

Joe stuffed the pictures and the letter back into the envelope and asked Christof to add them to his file. It disappeared into the man's briefcase.

"What should I do until the meeting? I had originally planned on visiting some places that offered courses on personal security, but now you've arranged for me to get that from the NSA. I doubt that will start until we've finalized our arrangements with them. I could look for a place to live, but I think I'd better wait to see what happens at the meeting. Everything feels up in the air."

The waitress brought over a tray and placed Joe's breakfast before him. Joe thanked her and gave her another smile. The young girl lingered, and Joe could see she kept touching her cell in her pocket. She was likely aching to ask for a photo, but it was probably forbidden for staff to bother the customers. He thought of a way to ensure she didn't get into trouble with management.

"Excuse me, miss? May I ask you a question?" he said.

"Yes, sir?" she leaned in, giving him a better view of her cleavage than he expected.

He tore his eyes away. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind posing with me for a photo? I've met so many nice people at this hotel and have taken selfies with many of them. Would that be okay? You could take one too if you wanted."

Her eyes lit up, but she glanced over her shoulder anyway. The coast was clear. Joe handed his phone to Christof and pushed his table away to give her room to get in beside him. With a final glance at the front of the restaurant, she scooted in and immediately sat on Joe's lap, surprising him. Christof took a picture, and the waitress took one of her own. Joe posed, kissing her on the cheek, and she got a shot of that, too. She popped back up to her feet and thanked Joe before scurrying away. Joe chuckled and pulled his table back in so he could tuck into his breakfast.

Christof put Joe's cell back on his table. "When you are finished flirting with the hotel staff, I recommend you speak with your parents. I will let Director Bannon know that we are on for Washington. If you do come up with an idea of what you might like to do in the next few days, please, whatever you do, try to keep a low profile."

Joe snorted and grinned at the lawyer. Then he dug into his breakfast with gusto.

-=-

Two days later, Joe sat on the ground behind a dumpster, taking cover between two police officers. He was cursing under his breath. He'd just been walking along the street on his way to a shop selling larger running shoes. Suddenly, three police cruisers came screeching in, and before the cops could even get out of their cars, bullets came crashing out of the bank's doors on the corner. People started screaming and running, and Joe was pushed by two police officers towards a large blue dumpster in the parking lot of an auto shop across from the bank. When Joe reached for his cell to call Amy, he realized it wasn't in his back pocket. He peeked around the dumpster's edge and saw it sitting on the sidewalk, the screen completely shattered.

He thought of Christof's plea and hung his head. All he had to do was play it cool for three days. He'd made it through two, well, one and a half with no problems. He and Amy went out for dinner with his parents, and afterward, they flew home with Christof and Selina. The next day, Joe went for a long run on the beach, and that felt awesome, but by the time he got back, he realized his runners were destroyed. He promised himself he'd get some real running shoes that fit his big feet the next day, and here he was.

Occasionally, a shot would ring out, and Joe would hear the bullet spang off something, often the dumpster he was behind, as the shooters must have seen them duck behind it.

Joe heard another sound. It was familiar. His phone was ringing! Dammit! Maybe it was Agent Pepper or Agent Ringo. He'd spotted them a block behind him on his way to the shoe store. By now, they knew he was in the thick of things again, and they'd call Director Bannon. Dammit, again!

"Julian's been hit!" one of the cops said to his partner.

"Fuck! Where is he?" the other cursed.

"He's on the ground next to his cruiser. Those fuckers in the bank are still taking potshots at him. They're gonna kill him!" he started to surge out from behind the dumpster, but Joe instinctively reached out and grabbed him back. Bullets bounced off the side of the dumpster and the ground where the officer had been seconds before.

"FUCK! You dumbass! They know we're here! You trying to get yourself killed?" his partner yelled. "Thanks for pulling his sorry ass back so quick!" he said, looking at Joe.

Joe realized he was still gripping the back of the man's vest, so he let go. The cop turned around and faced him. His eyes were wide, and he was looking a little ill. Joe looked at the name on his jacket. Ramone. He was a little older than Joe, with dark curly hair and an olive complexion on a face filled with character. Joe glanced at his partner. Willis. He was older, dark-skinned, and a tough, seasoned veteran.

They heard a scream and a man crying out.

"Fuck! That's Julian!" Ramone yelled.

Joe was sitting in relative safety behind the dumpster. He suspected it was full of used tires, making it an excellent thing to hide behind. All he needed to do was sit tight, and the SWAT team or more cops would show up and deal with the robbers.

Keep a low profile.

"Fuck."

Joe turned to face the dumpster. It was really big. They were on the front broadside with the opening facing them, and the lid was closed. There were no handles or anything to grip on this surface. The dumpster sat on four large round metal pads.

Julian wailed in pain again. Joe could hear the cops arguing over their radios. He tapped the shoulder of the veteran to get his attention.

"We're going to go get your friend. We're taking the dumpster with us," Joe said.

"I tried pushing it. It's too heavy. Probably full of tires. It can't be moved," Willis argued.

"I'm going to try. If I get it moving, I won't stop until I get to the cruiser. Can one of you pick up my cell on the sidewalk when we go by? It looks busted, but I just heard it ring."

Ramone cast a nervous glance at his partner like he was worried they were trapped with a loon. "Yeah, sure, buddy. It's the least I could do."

"Okay, here goes," Joe said. He slipped the fingers of his left hand under the lid and got a good grip on the bin's lip. Then he put his right hand on the dumpster's bottom edge and applied pressure.

At first, nothing happened. Then, a sudden and horribly loud squeal began as four feet scraped their way across the parking lot. Joe was panting with the effort and couldn't hear anything other than the scream of metal on the asphalt.

Ramone and Willis were stunned but quickly got behind Joe as their cover slowly moved toward the road. Willis pointed out Joe's cell to Ramone as they passed it. Ramone grabbed it up and put it in his pocket. They held their guns ready, as above the squeal, they heard the impacts of bullets against the dumpster increase.

Joe fed his rage into his muscles. These fuckers were shooting at him! They were trying to kill him and the police officers. The dumpster began to move faster, and Ramone and Willis had to increase their crab walk to remain in its shelter. Sparks were shooting out from the bin's feet. Willis yelled out for Joe to start moving left. The dumpster suddenly bounced slightly, then seemed to slide a little easier, and Joe realized chunks of rust had broken away, and the feet weren't resisting so much now. Still not a smooth slide, but the effort was definitely easing off, which was good because Joe was seriously reaching his limit. He pushed the dumpster between the bank and the fallen officer. Ramone and Willis immediately started to check the man's injuries.

Bullets continued to ping off the dumpster. As he leaned against it, heaving deep gasps, Joe began to wonder how much ammo these bastards had brought to the bank.

On the other side of the dumpster was a police cruiser, which was pretty shot up. Joe noticed Julian's partner was lying across the seat. Joe thought he might be dead as he wasn't moving. He snapped his eyes to black to take another look. There was a tiny motion in the man's outstretched hand. Joe quickly scuttled on all fours to the side of the car, reached in to grab the man's arm, and slid him from the seat onto the road. He pulled the man back to the other side of the dumpster, and the barrage of bullets increased again. In shock, Ramone and Willis looked at Joe and saw he had the other officer.

"Rick!" Willis shouted and moved to check on him. "He's alive but just barely. We have to get them out of here," he said.

"Aren't the SWAT guys supposed to show up to save the day?" Joe said, panting. He heard a weird popping sound and realized it was a news helicopter circling a block away. He groaned.

"They're still ten minutes out. Even when they get here, they need time to set up. These guys don't have that long," Willis said. "If we can move away from the bank towards that street, we can get into the shelter of that building."

Joe looked at what Willis was describing. The distance wasn't great, but the problem would be having to PULL the dumpster. The damn thing was hard enough to push!

"I don't suppose you guys have anything to eat on you?" he asked, feeling shaky and drained.

"I got a chocolate bar, but I was saving it for later," Ramone said.

"Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME? Give him the fucking chocolate bar!" Willis yelled.

"Okay, geez! No need to get testy!" Ramone said. He tossed the candy to Joe, who thanked him.

Joe ate the gooey, melting treat and licked the wrapper clean. He took a few more deep breaths, then positioned himself behind the dumpster. He looked at the two officers and saw they were kneeling but had lifted their friends onto their backs. Joe saw they might be exposed when they stood. Joe lifted the lid on the dumpster and reached inside. He grabbed a tire and jammed it under the corner of the cover. This forced it open at roughly a thirty-degree angle, which should hide the injured officers and hopefully deflect any shots fired at the angled metal. He hoped. Just then, a bullet hit the lid and screamed off over their heads. It was working!

He nodded at the officers and strained at the dumpster until it moved again. Joe poured everything he had into pulling the dumpster. He could only take tiny steps, which was excruciatingly painful for his overtaxed muscles. The farther they got from the bank, the more difficult it was for the gunmen to hit them, so pretty soon, Ramone and Willis were running their fastest with the injured men on their backs. They ducked behind the shelter of the building and into the waiting arms of cops and paramedics. Once the injured were safely on their way to the ambulances, Ramone and Willis turned around and screamed for him to run.

Joe didn't see the curb until it caught the corner of the dumpster and jarred it to a stop. Joe's grip broke free, and he tumbled backward, slamming his head on the pavement. He stumbled to his feet and pushed off toward the corner of the building. He was dazed by the blow to his head and glanced off the corner of the brick wall just as a lucky shot smacked into his right shoulder, sending him into a spin, and his momentum took him over the hood of a parked car onto the street beyond. He felt hands pulling him back, and he looked up to see Agent Pepper looking down at him. Then Agent Ringo was there as well. Ramone and Willis rushed up and got up in their faces as the agents tried to get Joe into the back of their grey sedan. Agent Ringo flashed her badge. Joe reached out with a wobbly left arm and patted Willis on the arm to get his attention.

"S'okay. Frenz," Joe slurred.

Agent Pepper got him into the back, and they quickly left the scene.

"Feds. Fucking figures," Ramone said as they stood watching the car disappear.

"Did you see any blood?" Willis asked his partner.

"What?"

"Was he bleeding? I saw him get hit, but I didn't see any blood," Willis mumbled.

The two cops looked at each other, stunned to be alive and amazed at what they had just witnessed.

Then, they heard a strange ringing coming from Ramone's vest pocket.

He got a big stupid grin on his face when he realized what it was.

Chapter 18

Joe became aware of a droning sound.

He tried to move, but his right shoulder hurt so freaking much that he had to just relax every muscle to lessen the pain.

"He's awake."

Joe cracked open his eyes. Even that made his shoulder hurt, it seemed.

He saw the large green eyes of Safa looking down at him. Her nose was her dominant feature from this angle, but it made her look almost cute, aside from her perpetually serious expression.

Next into his line of sight came Agent White.

"Joseph? Can you hear me?" she asked.

He tried to nod, but that caused a flare of pain. He hissed and clenched his eyes shut until it passed.

When it was gone, he opened his eyes a little and saw the concern in the agent's eyes. He wished it was actual concern for his well-being, but he didn't really think that was the case.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Good. I'll get Roger."

Safa was still within his sight. "Hungry," he whispered.

"I will see what I can get you once you've spoken with Director Bannon," she replied.

Joe heard a noise, and the director came into view.

"Joseph, how are you doing?"

"Lots of pain. Right shoulder mostly, but it hurts everywhere." he hissed out.

"We think you were hit by a bullet, but it didn't penetrate," Bannon said, wonder in his voice.

"So hungry," he whispered, his strength draining.

"We can't give you an intravenous as the needle won't go in. If you can swallow, we'll get you some soup to begin with," he said and nodded to Safa, who left to get it.

"Listen, just relax until it gets here. I wanted you to know that we're currently flying to Washington. Your lawyer will meet us there. I called your parent and let them know you're with us and that you're alive and recuperating. I've spoken with your sister, and she's well. She told me to tell you that she left the hotel and is staying with your friends. I assume she means Douglas and Melissa Wilson."

"Thanks," Joe whispered.

"Your little stunt back there is all over the news. The officers you helped rescue are going to live. But the two officers you helped won't shut up about you."

"I'm sorry, sir. I tried to keep a low profile like Christof asked. I just needed some new running shoes," Joe whispered.

Bannon snorted. The boy had no idea what low profile meant. Everyone wanted a piece of him now. Since Officer Ramone mentioned their hero worked for the NSA, the phones at his offices had been ringing off the hook. Talent scouts, professional league football recruiters, Bookers calling to get Joe for guest appearances on late-night talk shows, movie studios looking for their new action hero, and even hospitals looking for Joe to visit the kids in the chemo wards. Not to mention the nutcases wanting Joe to touch them or their children to invoke God's blessing or the women wanting to have Joe's children. Bannon knew he'd have to ensure Joe didn't hear about that last one, as he knew the young man was having trouble dealing with that.

"Couldn't the police have dealt with this?" he asked.

"They said... there wasn't time," Joe said, his voice getting weaker.

Safa had returned with some broth, but Joe couldn't sit up. She opened a silver case and pulled out a clear, flexible tubing section. She put one end in Joe's mouth and stuck the other in the broth.

"Suck," was all she said.

Bannon's eyebrows went up, but Joe did as directed, and soon, the broth was flowing through the tube. He was swallowing as quickly as he could get the food into his mouth. Not long after he began, there was a slurping sound, and the bowl was empty.

Safa pulled the tube from between Joe's teeth.

"More?" he asked. Safa looked at Bannon, who just nodded. She left.

"What about the bank robbers? Did they get them?" Joe asked.

"It wasn't a robbery. It was just one unstable man. He'd been turned down for a loan earlier that day and returned with an armory of weapons. He killed everyone in the bank, but someone hit the alarm before they died. When the police arrived, he opened up on them. Only the two officers you helped rescue were injured outside the branch. When the SWAT team arrived, the gunman killed himself. When they stormed the place thirty minutes later, they found the bodies. Fourteen dead. Bank staff, the security guard, and seven customers, including a mother and her baby. He killed everyone. It was monstrous."

"God! That's horrible! How could someone shoot a baby?" Joe's eyes were glassy.

"Easy there. Lives were saved, and in contrast to what happened inside the bank, that has taken on great significance. Like it or not, you are the celebrity hero of the day." Bannon said to calm Joe down.

"I don't want to be a celebrity hero!" he said gruffly. "Ramone and Willis were just as much the hero as me."

"That's true, but they didn't move an immovable object to make it happen," Bannon said with a grin. "Did you know there might be a legal battle over the dumpster you pushed over to the fallen officers. The Police took it as evidence. Loaded it by crane onto a flatbed trailer and took it back to their forensic labs. I heard it was full of tires and nearly thirty pounds of spent bullets. The tire shop owner is threatening to sue the police to get it back as he wants to use it for marketing purposes. I'll never get used to how weird Los Angeles is," Bannon said.

"Me either, sir," Joe said. He kept turning his eyes towards the aisle, looking for Safa. Soon he was rewarded as she arrived with a tray containing two more bowls of broth and some dinner rolls.

"Safa, you are an angel in a lab coat," Joe said, feeling stronger just by being in the presence of food.

A most fetching blush appeared on the face of the Forensic Pathologist. Her expression remained serious, but Joe could see her eyes twinkle. She pulled a big chunk of bread from a roll and stuffed it in his mouth with a slender finger. Joe swore he saw the hint of a smile before she turned away to get a bowl of soup. He quickly chewed and swallowed. It was heavenly.

"I'll let you have your dinner. We should reach Washington in a couple of hours. I think Mr. Waechter will be at the airport. Get some rest once you've eaten." Bannon stood up and moved toward the front of the plane.

Safa brought out the tube again, and Joe drank the contents of the first bowl. Once she put the bowl and tube back on the tray, Safa sat on the edge of a seat so she could feed him chunks of bread. Joe couldn't help but find it very pleasant to be fed by hand. She was a little slow in releasing the bread once, and he caught her fingertip between his lips. Safa was slow to remove it as well. Her expression remained serious, though her gaze was focused on his mouth. Joe wasn't sure what she was up to. He suddenly recalled his sister's encounter with his tongue and involuntarily pulled back from her digit. Safa's eyes widened as she seemed to realize what she was doing. She became flustered and turned around to get the last bowl of broth and the tube. Before Joe could say anything, she jammed the tube between his lips and looked away. Joe drank the broth but bit down on the hose so she'd look at him when he was done. When she did, he could see she was still embarrassed. He released the tube.

"Safa, I didn't mean to pull away like that. I just got nervous you would touch my tongue. That would have been rather intense for both of us, and considering how much pain I'm in right now, I don't think that would be a good idea." he tried to explain.

"Mr. Neumann, just how sheltered do you think I am that touching a man's tongue would set me all aflutter. Really," Safa said, insulted and embarrassed.

Joe stuck his tongue out as far as he could.

Safa's indignant look became one of puzzlement. She looked closer, then began reaching her hand out. Joe sucked his tongue back in his mouth and gave her a glare.

"Look, but don't touch. Think of the lines as a cattle prod for the pleasure center in your brain," he said.

She gave him a suspicious look. "Is that some strange pick up line, Mr. Neumann?"

Joe looked at Safa, stunned. Then he began to laugh but immediately stopped as his shoulder sent pain spikes through his torso. He hissed in pain, and his eyes teared up. When his head stopped swimming, he felt the gentle touch of a tissue against his closed eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Neumann. Perhaps you should rest now." Safa said.

He nodded. The food felt good, but the pain wore out his reserves. He slipped into unconsciousness.

Chapter 19

"Son of a BITCH!"

Joe jolted awake, swearing, as the foot of his stretcher banged into a doorway, sending bolts of pain shooting through his shoulder. Joe glared murderously around him, and the agents pushing him along jumped back from the stretcher. Christof and Bannon jumped forward to grab and stop the free-rolling cart.

"Joseph, your eyes, please," Christof said calmly.

Joe rested his head back and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply and willed the anger to abate and the pain to go away. After a few seconds, he felt calmer and opened his eyes, which were back to being brown. He glanced down at the agents standing a few feet away and apologized to them.

"Maybe he could wear sunglasses all the time," Bannon suggested.

"Not terribly practical." Christof returned.

Bannon looked at the man on the stretcher and his lawyer. Then he looked at his watch. It was almost time. Agent White was waiting a few feet away from him with Safa. Both looked nervous as they would also be called upon to speak. Rachel had already felt the scorn of some of the superiors they were addressing today. He could tell she was dreading a repeat performance. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. He could see her relax a little as she placed tremendous faith in him.

He turned back to the agents who had been guiding the stretcher. "Please be a little more careful. Mr. Neumann was shot and is in a fair amount of pain. Be gentle. We are just a little further down the hall."

The two men took their positions again and carefully guided the stretcher forward once more. The group arrived outside of the conference room. Bannon turned to Christof.

"I'm going to make the presentation. I suspect that with questions, this could take an hour. We'll call you both in once we're ready. Can we get you anything while you wait?" he asked.

"An extra-large pizza. Loaded. No anchovies." Joe requested.

"Uh, I'll see what we can do. You may have to wait until afterward as food is restricted to the cafeteria." Bannon replied. Joe looked grumpy.

"Water?" Christof asked.

"That we can do." He nodded to an agent standing by who immediately left on the errand.

"Here we go," Bannon said. He pulled the door open and gestured for Rachel and Safa to precede him. Bannon entered the room and walked down the aisle to the table set up facing what should have been a council of five senior NSA administrators. He was surprised to see who occupied three of the chairs facing them. In one sat the current director of the CIA, Greg Jefferson. Next to him was Kevin Hughes, Head of the FBI.

Finally, the third extra chair was occupied by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Dan MacAvoy, whose expression was grim and clearly indicated he didn't want to be there.

Roger looked to the other two seats and saw his boss, Director of Operations Hillary Scott. Next to her was the Director of the NSA, Frank Little.

Bannon nodded to each and took his seat. Agent White sat on his right, and Safa sat on the bench behind them until he directed her to move up to take the seat on his left.

Frank Little was not a man to waste time, so he got right to the point. "Director Bannon, we've read your preliminary report, and if it had come from anyone else, this meeting would not be happening. You have an excellent reputation for cutting through the bullshit and delivering facts, which made reading this report a bit of a shock. It also demanded we implement a protocol that calls together the heads of the organizations you see represented here. Let's not waste anyone's precious time. Please proceed."

Bannon heard the message in this opening very clearly. Cut the bullshit and keep it simple. He could do that.

"Some of you are aware of a report my colleague Agent White wrote a number of years ago. Some of you are not. I won't go into the report's details except for one critical fact. The report identified a potential pattern between anomalous gravity measurements and spikes in violent criminal activity. In itself, this isn't that meaningful, as there could be a number of alternate theories to explain or deny the connections. It's just a theory and not a welcome one without some physical evidence linked to one of these events."

Bannon gauged his audience and saw that he hadn't lost anyone yet.

"A little over a week ago, an incident occurred at the Fargo, North Dakota, airport security clearance area. A passenger set off the metal detectors for no visible reason, and a manual wand test also proved ineffective. He was directed to a Full Body scanner using Millimeter Wave Scanner technology. What you are about to see is the result."

He turned to Rachel and nodded. Her tablet was connected to the room's projection system, so she started the video, and the large screen lit up with the security cam's footage of the event.

Bannon didn't bother watching as he was more interested in the expressions of his audience. He saw the surprise when the machine exploded in sparks. As the picture showed Joseph stepping from the scanner, the back of his shirt ablaze, Roger saw flinches and tightening of eye muscles. He looked back at Rachel, who was ready for the next few slides.

"The machine malfunctioned. As you see here, the initial scan of the subject indicates he's opaque to the scanner. Again, the most likely scenario is that the machine wasn't working when it took the scan. The shirt, seen here, which the subject removed from his back after the security agent doused him with the extinguisher, shows considerable damage, and you can see from this still from the security footage the flames not only reached the subject's hairline, it engulfed the back of his head. Chemical analysis of the shirt proved the flames were considerably hotter than expected, and the subject should have been badly burned. He was not. Not one hair was singed, and his skin showed no signs of burns. Chemical flame retardant in his hair and on his skin, perhaps."

"After this happened, the subject should have needed to be hospitalized for his injuries, but he had none. He certainly should not have been allowed to board his flight to Los Angeles, but he was. Agent White received notification of this anomalous activity and contacted two agents from my office she'd previously worked with. They went to the airport to meet the subject and detain him until Agent White arrived to interrogate him."

"You are aware of the E.M.P. event at LAX if not from the news, then from my report. When I was notified two of my agents were injured and an E.M.P. pulse had taken out the security systems and power of a large portion of the airport, I went to investigate. The pulse went off in a washroom across from the gate where the subject arrived, and the agents were found there. We know the agents met with the subject. I learned in their debriefing that the agents failed to identify themselves as NSA agents, and based on the target's physical size, they decided to immediately launch an attack to render him unconscious. Here are the images from the first agent on the scene."

Again, Agent White played the slides while Bannon watched his audience. He knew what they were seeing. It looked like a war zone. There were also some close-ups of both agents' injuries and the x-rays of Ryan's shattered ribs.

"Are you trying to tell us one man did this? What weapons was he using?" the General asked gruffly.

"I'm getting to that, General. The destruction is significant, and the injuries sustained were severe. The two agents only recently regained consciousness, at which time I debriefed them. Agent Cooper has lost two fingers and his thumb from his right hand. He would have bled out from this injury, but the subject tied his own shirt around Cooper's hand as a tourniquet. The injury was sustained when his standard issue Taser overloaded and exploded. Our Forensic specialists went over every spec and crumb in that room and used all of their toys to determine the location of the source of the explosion. It was the Taser."

"Tasers don't have the energy needed to cause that level of destruction," Kevin Hughes stated.

"You're right. They don't. Even if the Taser was fully charged as it was, you'd need to amplify its energy by a significant factor to generate that kind of explosion and an E.M.P., but let's move on." The panel looked frustrated that he hadn't answered their question, but he also saw he had their curiosity fully engaged. He nodded at Rachel. She displayed the image of the bent police baton. "After the explosion, Agent Ryan struck the subject with considerable force across the top of his cranium. This was the result on the baton. When the subject didn't drop unconscious to the floor, Ryan dropped the baton and tried to pull his firearm. That's when the subject punched him."

The General was getting upset. "Wait! How many times?"

"Excuse me?" Bannon asked.

"How many times did he punch Agent Ryan?"

"Once, but it threw the agent across the room where he impacted the bathroom wall and suffered additional broken bones."

"You're saying the subject is some kind of robot from outer space?" the General sneered.

Bannon remained calm and looked directly at the General. "No, sir, I'm not. May I continue?"

The General was upset, but he sat back and nodded. Bannon looked at the other council members, and they all gestured for him to proceed. He knew he had their full and complete attention.

"After the E.M.P. event, the subject disappeared into Los Angeles. We ran a story on the news requesting aid in finding him, and the following night, his lawyer contacted us. They arranged to come in. When confronted with the evidence against his client, the lawyer disclosed that there were some significant differences in the subject. Differences that his parents had been keeping from the subject during the twenty-one years they raised him. Until the night they contacted us, the subject had been unaware that he wasn't just another average twenty-one-year-old American, albeit stronger than most."

"This is where we return to the report Agent White produced. There was one particularly significant gravity anomaly twenty-one years ago near the northwest corner of North Dakota. On the outskirts of Glennville, North Dakota, in fact. To be more precise, on the property of the subject's adoptive parents."

Bannon knew this next part was going to be the hardest sell. But he still had his trump card.

"The issue most have with the report Agent White presented is that while it presents a compelling theory and disturbing pattern, none of these events had any credible eyewitnesses, and worse, there was no physical proof. On the night in question, Glennville's Sherriff and the property owner investigated some strange lights in a back field that are on record as being seen and reported by a local glider school. What I'm going to show you now is a video recording made by Karl Neumann, the property owner." With a nod, Rachel started the video. Bannon poured himself a glass of water while the video played. He wet his throat and watched the faces of the men and woman seeing it for the first time."

He gave them time to absorb the information when it was over. The General's face was even more closed off. The others were not so easy to read.

"While that was very compelling footage and not the typical histrionics one is accustomed to seeing related to such a story, it isn't really proof, is it?" Greg Jefferson asked.

"You're right. It's not. The next part of the presentation will be from Senior Forensic Pathologist Safa Neema from Washington's NSA Bureau." He nodded to the woman who stood up. Agent White slid her tablet over in front of Safa.

"Hello. I'm Safa Neema. My credentials are on file with this organization. Before I'm asked, the information you are about to see has undergone multiple cross-checks, and every data integrity protocol was followed to the letter. There were no mistakes. Please look to the screen." She displayed the first of her slides.

"I've been told to keep this non-technical and restricted to the basic facts. This is human DNA. It contains twenty-three chromosome pairs. We've mapped the human genome, so we are familiar with what it looks like, and we are learning how it works." She changed the slide. "This is the subject's DNA. It has seven-hundred-and-sixty-six chromosome pairs. Twenty-three of them are human. The rest don't match anything we've ever recorded. They match no known species of creature we've ever mapped DNA from. The subject was originally completely human, and now he is more."

The council seemed frozen.

"As swabs from his mouth proved unsuccessful for procuring DNA and we could not penetrate his skin with needles to take a blood sample, we took the DNA from two samples of the subject's ejaculate. Both were identical. One significant physical change to the subject's physiology is with his reproductive system. There are no spermatozoa in the subject's ejaculate. Instead, there are eggs, thousands per sample. However, due to the vast difference in his DNA, these eggs are NOT compatible with any form of spermatozoa we know. They cannot be fertilized. The other half of this reproductive system does not exist to our knowledge. Thank you."

Safa sat down.

Bannon hadn't expected Safa to be quite this concise or brief. He stood back up. The faces of the men and the woman were showing shock. Physical proof was an amazing catalyst.

Frank was the first to speak. "Is the subject in custody? Do we have containment?"

"Containment?" Bannon said.

"It is the primary step for the protocol this situation demands. Do I really need to spell out to you what the impact would be on our society if this information were to reach the general populace?" Frank growled.

"Containment," Bannon said again. He looked at Rachel and smiled. She played the next video.

The footage was from a slightly shaky camera mounted on a news station helicopter flying above a street and zoomed in significantly. The detail wasn't terribly good, but you could tell what was happening, especially with the reporter's play-by-play commentary.

"This is Mike Reynolds in News Chopper Ten flying above the stand-off between gunmen and the police at National Express Bank on Lincoln and Dremner. Two police officers are pinned down behind a dumpster with a civilian, and one officer is down on the road next to his cruiser. Oh god! The gunmen are shooting at the down officer. Wait! The civilian is trying to push the dumpster. It's... It's moving! The police are following. They are going for the down officer. I'm seeing something happening. Sparks are coming from under the dumpster. It's not on wheels, people. HE'S SLIDING IT ACROSS THE PAVEMENT! Oh my god! This is amazing! They're almost there! The dumpster is taking heavy fire. The gunmen are concentrating their bullets on the dumpster. They made it! They have the officer. Wait! The civilian is going to the cruiser. What's he doing? There's another injured police officer! He's bringing him back behind the dumpster. This is incredible, people! They are looking around. They seem to be pinned down as there is nowhere else to go—wait! They are doing something. The civilian has raised the lid, and he's PULLING THE DUMPSTER! The police have the injured officers on their backs and are running for cover of a nearby building. The civilian is pulling—OH GOD! He's fallen, and it looks like he hit his head pretty bad! No, wait, he's up and stumbling for the corner. GEEZUS! I think he just got shot! He went over the hood of that car! Such a terrible—wait! He's UP! He's being led to a car—" Rachel stopped the footage there.

Bannon pointed to the screen. "I take it you are familiar with this story? It's all over the news. It's all over the internet. The civilian is Joseph Neumann, the subject. He was told to keep a low profile and was just out buying running shoes when he got caught up in this drama. He could have just sat behind that dumpster until the SWAT team arrived, but if he had, those two police officers would have died, so he chose to act. As you saw in the footage, he was successful, but he himself was shot. The bullet fired from a high-power rifle did not penetrate his skin, but he did sustain impact injuries. We cannot determine the extent of his injuries as he burns out x-ray machines and ultrasonic scanners. I've been told that he will heal."

"Joseph is also something of a celebrity, having saved the life of one pop star and publicly dated another. Due to his summer job, he's apparently come into contact with many celebrities and has made a very good impression on many of them."

"So, containment is not an option, but non-disclosure still is. I'm providing you with copies of a... contract his lawyers have prepared." Agent White walked to the front and distributed the documents. "We can have our lawyers read it over, but considering its source, I'm sure it's ironclad. In a nutshell, Joseph will work with us to determine his origin; in return, we will keep his secret. Should we not honor this contract, they are prepared to distribute an info-packet containing every detail of Joseph's unique condition... globally. To prove their capabilities of such a broad distribution, they have scheduled the launch of a test payload today. It should reach saturation by around noon Washington time. I've been informed the test payload tag to watch for is Hello, You, which can be found online and will be televised as well."

"This is extortion," the head of the FBI said.

"Yes, sir, it is. It is also the only means they had at their disposal to protect themselves from their own government's actions from its leader's atavistic responses. You said it yourself, sir. Containment was your first response. A euphemism for imprisonment. You could consider it a mutual annihilation agreement if it makes you feel better. Neither party wishes for the secret to be released. Actions from either side to break the contract will result in... well, you get the idea. While Joseph is no longer fully human, recall that he was an unwilling subject of what we believe was an experiment by these interlopers. His parents were killed during this experiment, and there is a good chance he would have died if not for his adopted father's actions. He was raised in a loving household by parents with high moral standards. He's a good kid. He didn't even know what he was until a few days ago, and when he found out, his biggest concern was being unable to give his parents grandchildren. Personally, I'm more concerned about the beings who did this to him. Getting Joseph's assistance in finding them would be invaluable. And as you said, Mr. Hughes, we don't really have a choice."

Greg Jefferson looked like he was contemplating alternative options. It was time to make it personal. He turned to Agent White and gestured for her to bring in their guests. He turned back to the panel.

"There is one more piece of physical evidence. At the location of the incursion, there is a large circular dead zone. Nothing will grow within the zone, and snow won't collect on the surface. Considering the amount of snow North Dakota gets in the winter, this is more than curious. We need to inspect and potentially excavate this area. None of the other areas where the gravity anomaly occurred was similarly affected."

Agent White returned to her seat, and Mr. Waechter followed the two agents guiding Joseph's stretcher. They had managed to raise him to a semi-seated position so he could converse with others. He still looked very shaky.

Christof came forward to stand beside Bannon's desk. "First Contact protocol?" he asked the people facing him.

Glances passed between them then Frank Little spoke. "I assume you are the subject's lawyer?"

Christof smiled. "Let's not start off on a bad footing. His name is Joseph Neumann, not the subject. My name is Christof Waechter of Waechter, Bergstrӧm, and Volkov, and we represent the Neumann family. I assume you have been given our letter of introduction and understand that we are entering into a delicate relationship that should prove to be very beneficial to all parties as long as we can come to a rational and reasonable decision to behave in a mutually respectful manner. Perhaps we could start with introductions. I have done mine and Joseph's. He is in considerable pain, so I will not ask him to stand."

While they all seemed to be a little annoyed, they agreed. One at a time, they introduced themselves.

"Firstly, I would like to clarify something rather important. This is not a First Contact Event," Christof said. "Joseph is a human who has been augmented by beings who definitely warrant a First Contact protocol. While the symbiote that merged with Joseph is not native to this world, it has not proven to have its own sentience. Joseph's mind is his own." Christof explained. "Determining why they made an effort to come to our world to perform these experiments on humans is paramount. Joseph is prepared to work with an investigating team to study the changes made to him and to assist in any way he can to find answers. As long as the contract is honored."

"I think our own experts will be the judge of whether or not Mr. Neumann is mentally human," Frank Little growled.

Christof sighed. "I mentioned Joseph is willing to participate in the investigation of his unique physiology. I believe what you describe falls into that category."

"Can you guarantee Mr. Neumann doesn't represent a danger to the populace? We've seen the violence he is capable of," General MacAvoy said grimly.

Christof turned to Joseph. "Would you like to answer this, Joseph?" he asked.

"Yes, I would. Thank you." He cleared his throat.

"Sorry if you can't hear me. I'm talking as loudly as I can, but I'm very weak from hunger, and it's all I can do to stay conscious. They won't get me food until after the meeting." He looked beseechingly at Director Bannon, who just looked embarrassed.

"Okay, here goes. General MacAvoy, have I been violent? Yes, in my twenty-one years, I have resorted to violence on a few occasions. In each of them, I responded to violence towards myself or a threat against a family member. I don't believe I have ever initiated violent behavior. The event you are most aware of is likely the airport in Los Angeles. I'm terribly sorry for the injuries the two agents sustained. If I had known they were agents and not muggers or sex molesters, things might have turned out differently. Maybe. I had no time to prepare before the first agent shot me with the Taser. At the time, I didn't know what would happen, and even if I had, there was no warning. The agent I punched was reaching for a gun, and I didn't have time to react in any other way. Can I be violent? Yes. I think that's been proven. Am I violent by nature? No, but I guess I will have to prove that to you. Or you could ask the people I grew up with. There are a lot of really wonderful people back in Glennville." Joe got a little teary. "Sorry, I must be more tired than I thought. I know I'm more than a little homesick."

"So you consider Glennville home? Do you consider Earth home?" Kevin Hughes asked.

"Did you miss the part about me being born here to human parents and growing up here? You were born here. Do you call Earth home?" Joe's voice showed his strain.

Christof put his hand on Joe's arm, and the injured man slumped back to the bed, shaking his head. The lawyer gave the Director of the FBI a disappointed look. The man had the grace to look embarrassed for his question.

"Would it be an outrageous request to get my charge some food before he passes out?" Christof asked.

None of the five moved.

There was a knock on the conference room door, and an agent walked in carrying a large pizza box. He went straight to Director Bannon, who stood and took the box from him. The agent turned and left. Christof looked surprised at Bannon, who'd obviously texted the agents outside to get the pizza. He nodded to the man, took the box from him, and placed it carefully on Joe's lap. The expression on Joe's face was almost desperate, but he couldn't lift his arms without his back spasming.

Seeing Joe's trouble, Safa stood and proceeded to feed him slices by hand. When she heard some noises of outrage, she turned to the Directors. "In studying Joseph's physiology, we have discovered that he is capable of tremendous feats of strength, as you saw by his moving the dumpster, which we've estimated weighed close to twenty-five hundred pounds. This energy output requires an intake of a substantial amount of calories." She fed another slice into Joe's waiting mouth. "His body also seems to be far more efficient with storing and using energy. The chance to study Joseph's physiology alone is worth any price; all he has asked for is to participate in that study with the same rights as any team member."

Joe could tell Safa was way outside her comfort zone by telling off her superiors, but she was taking a stand for her beliefs. She trembled slightly but kept her expression serious and her voice calm and matter-of-fact. He was seriously impressed by the strength of this slim woman! He also wanted another slice but didn't want to break the moment's significance.

Christof's watch vibrated, so he turned to the council. "Sorry for the interruption, but there is something you need to see." He turned to Agent White. "Can you tune into any broadcast stations on the screen? Any of the major ones will do."

A few seconds later, a commercial appeared on the large screen. They waited through it and another one before Amy's smiling face filled the screen.

"Hello, You!" she said with a bright smile. This was followed by scene after scene of Amy saying the 'Hello You!' phrase in one language after another in different acting styles, each interspersed with very short scenes of Amy laughing, reading, applying make-up, practicing the languages, making faces, all the behind-the-scenes magic. The bit was only thirty seconds long and ended with a black screen with white lettering saying Coming Soon.

When it was over, Joe's bark of joyful laughter jolted everyone, and all eyes turned on him.

"I LOVE IT!" he gushed with a huge grin. Christof's eyes were twinkling. "It's brilliant! Wasn't she wonderful? That's my sister!" Christof patted Joe's arm and looked to Safa to suggest she put another slice in his mouth, which she did, and Joe's attention was diverted.

"If you switch to any major web aggregators, you'll note the 'Hello, You!' video somewhere in the top ten links. Within the day, all lower-tier aggregators will also carry it. The final slide on this presentation could easily be a link to a torrent, a URL, or any number of vectors we have at our disposal to distribute the full payload. We've created a meme. I understand these are quite persistent and virulent."

Agent White scanned through several Social Media sites and saw the 'Hello, You!' link in each. This was displayed on the large display so each council member saw clearly how widespread the information had been disseminated.

Even the General wore a thoughtful expression.

"This clip was shown in every televised market around the world. Just a one-time presentation, but the Internet is permanent. We couldn't take it back if we wanted to. They own it now."

"This must have been extraordinarily expensive! Are we to believe you can afford to do these any time you want? Just how rich are your clients?" Frank Little scoffed.

"That's the amazing thing! It cost less than ten-thousand dollars to produce and distribute. Most accepted no money to participate. The real payload will go out for free; you can believe they will want it more than anything they've ever wanted. However, we don't want the main payload to be distributed as much as you don't. That's the point, isn't it?"

"Then why did it say 'Coming Soon' at the end of the test payload!" Kevin Hughes barked.

"You do understand that was a teaser ad announcing Amy Neumann's arrival as an actor? It has nothing to do with the main payload." Christof said slowly, as if to a dim student.

Greg Jefferson looked angrily at Kevin. Hillary Scott looked embarrassed for him. Frank Little just looked impatient. The General had a smirk on his lips for the first time in the meeting.

Most of the pizza was gone, and Joe couldn't eat anymore. Safa used a napkin to clean Joseph's mouth. Before she left, he mouthed thank you to her. She dipped her eyes in acknowledgment, then sat in her chair.

"Are there any more questions?" Christof said.

The council members looked at each other, and the General stood up. He walked over to Joe, stood beside the stretcher, and looked down at him. Joe remained quiet and looked up at the General.

"So, you were shot?" he said

"Apparently so," Joe replied.

The General turned to Agent White. "Can you find that section of the clip and play it back at quarter speed?" She nodded and queued up the clip. She zoomed the section, showing Joe stumbling towards the building and bouncing off the edge. Then, there was a sudden flash on Joe's right shoulder, and Joe was slammed forward and over the car hood. "Roll it back to the impact, please, and freeze it." Rachel rolled the video back and slowed to frame-by-frame until they saw the silvery sparkles collect at his right shoulder. She froze the footage, and the image was fairly clear. The flesh under the bullet was almost black, and as she rolled the frames forward, that black color radiated out as a ring.

"Could I see your shoulder?" he asked.

"It is very difficult for Joseph to move—" Christof started.

"It's okay, but someone else will have to lift my shirt," Joe said. He clenched his teeth and pulled himself to a vertical position using his left arm. Safa moved in and gently slid his shirt up his back. The golden brown of his tan became dark grey and black patches the closer the shirt got to his shoulder. The skin was completely black at the impact site.

"Is that bruising?" Greg asked, having joined them next to the stretcher.

"If it's black, then yes. That's what my left side and left leg looked like when I was hit by a tow truck." Joe replied.

"You were hit by a tow truck?" Greg asked incredulously.

"During an attempted robbery, the robbers rammed their truck into the side of mine. I was pretty banged up." Joe explained. The General and Greg shared looks.

Kevin and Frank came over to look as well, followed by Hillary. They all got a look at the bruises then Safa lowered the shirt.

"General, do you have a knife on you?" Joe asked.

The man looked suspiciously at him. "Yes."

"Is it sharp?" Joe asked.

"What's the point of having a dull knife?" the General returned.

"Since we are doing a magic show, for my next trick, the General will attempt to cut my arm," Joe said.

"What?" the man barked.

"It's quite all right, General. Go ahead." Joe exposed his left forearm.

Still looking suspicious, the General pulled out a punching knife. The handle fit in his fist, and the short, wickedly sharp blade projected beyond his fingers.

"Careful that the knife doesn't turn in your hand when you—Oof! Good punch, General. That really hurt my shoulder... uhn... I'm gonna lie down again. The magic show is over. Thanks for coming." Joe sank back down to the stretcher's surface with a pained expression and closed his eyes.

General MacAvoy hadn't held back at all when he slammed his fist into Joe's forearm. He fully expected the man to scream when the blade sunk into his flesh. But the blade was deflected by the man's skin, and he had to bear down on his grip to keep the edge from turning as Joseph had suggested it might. There wasn't a scratch on Joseph's arm. That was all the proof the General needed. He knew how sharp the blade was. He'd used it to kill men more battle-trained than this young man.

He turned to look at the others, who looked at him like he was some dangerous savage.

"The man said cut him! Would you have trusted less than an actual attempt?" he growled. Some of the faces took on a more thoughtful expression.

Christof was still glaring at the General, but he held his tongue.

Bannon stepped forward. "I'd like to suggest we retire for today. It's obvious that Joseph needs time to recuperate from the shooting and the attempted stabbing." That got him a glare from the General and a smirk from Christof. "I would suggest that you read the documents Mr. Waechter has provided, and if we agree, we can reconvene tomorrow at the same time."

Frank Little felt control of the meeting slipping away from him, but he couldn't protest without looking weak. "Where will Mr. Neumann be quartered?"

"I have reserved adjoining suites at a hotel downtown, so he will be staying with me," Christof stated emphatically.

"The surveillance team is still in place, with Mr. Neumann's full consent." Bannon supplied. Frank didn't look happy at all, but that was the deal.

The council members all nodded, and Frank spoke up. "Meeting adjourned until ten-thirty tomorrow morning. Director Scott, Mr. Bannon, my office."

Christof caught the missing title and grew concerned for Director Bannon's future with the organization. He was now doubly glad he'd included him in the contract as their NSA point person. If necessary, pressure could and would be applied to ensure fair treatment for the man. Bannon gathered up his papers and left after Director Little. Christof shared a look of concern with Agent White, who looked a little lost without her partner.

He looked down at Joseph and saw his charge was beyond his endurance. In fact, he'd passed out. Safa was immediately at his side and checked his pulse. Christof caught her eye with a raised eyebrow.

"He is sleeping. His heart rate is steady but slow for a normal human. I believe this is normal for Joseph. If you wouldn't mind, I would like to accompany you to the hotel to keep an eye on him. I believe this is the first time he's been shot, and we don't know what effect this level of injury will have on him. I can observe as well as act as a nurse," she said earnestly.

Christof was hesitant to put Joseph under her microscope, but she correctly stated that he might need a nurse's assistance for the injured man. He nodded and saw the spark in her eyes.

"I will get my overnight bag from my locker and meet you by the entrance," she said, quickly gathering her own items before hustling out of the room.

Kevin Hughes followed her out. Greg Jefferson had been speaking quietly with the General but followed the Director of the FBI out. The General walked back over to Christof, the grim expression back on his face.

"Mr. Waechter."

"Yes, General?"

"I'm going to have to speak with the President now and let him know that something none of us ever expected to have to deal with may actually be happening during his term. He's not going to be a happy man."

"Well, there is currently nothing different he needs to be doing. We haven't met the aliens yet. I mean, aside from Karl Neumann's experience. They haven't returned in over twenty years. Getting a better look at their entry point is an excellent start, but it's been dormant for two decades."

The General's look was piercing. "Dormant is an excellent term to use. If it was abandoned, why is it still barren? Nature abhors a vacuum, Mr. Waechter. We keep runways we no longer use cleared, just in case. I want my people to be part of that analysis and excavation team."

Christof pondered that and looked back at the General. "That might be an excellent idea."

The General nodded and left the room. The two NSA agents who had helped with the stretcher came into the room and took up their positions again.

The lawyer looked to Agent White, who was just putting her tablet away in her briefcase, ready to leave. "We will see you tomorrow, Agent White," he said.

"Hopefully," she replied worriedly, and they all left the room.

Chapter 20

Safa looked around the luxury hotel suite, eyes wide with delight. Christof smiled at her expression.

"My suite is just through that door, which I will keep closed for privacy but not locked. If you or Joseph require anything, please let me know. I must make some calls so I will leave you now unless you need something.

"I'm fine. Joseph?" She turned her attention to the man who had moved from his stretcher to a wheelchair when they arrived.

"I'm hungry again. Any of that pizza left?" he asked.

Safa marveled at how much better he seemed already. It had only been a little more than an hour since she'd fed him most of a pizza, and his energy level was markedly improved. The efficiency of his digestive system alone was fascinating!

"I will order you some room service," Safa said, looking to Christof for permission, and he nodded with another smile.

After the lawyer left to make his calls, Safa wheeled Joseph into the seating area of the lushly appointed suite. She picked up a tablet from the coffee table and saw it had a hotel menu on it. She made her way through the menus until she found room service. Showing Joe the offerings, she selected the items he wanted and one for herself and sent the order. The delivery time was displayed on the tablet.

"Is there a gym in this hotel?" Joe asked.

She scanned the tablet and found the amenities page. "Yes, a nice one with a pool, hot tub, and a sauna."

"Sauna?" Joe's eyes lit up.

"Would you like to use the sauna, Mr. Neumann?" Safa asked.

"I would love to use the sauna, but could you call me Joe?" he asked.

"Once you've eaten, we will see about bringing you to the sauna. I will continue to use your formal name to maintain the propriety of our relationship," she replied.

"We're in a relationship already? It's all happening so fast! You'll be gentle, won't you? I've got a tender heart," he teased.

"I'm going to move my overnight case into the bedroom." She turned to keep him from seeing the smile creeping onto her face.

Joe's stomach gurgled at the mention of food. He looked around the room to distract himself from his hunger. It was pretty fancy, but he was starting to miss home comforts. Speaking of home, he hadn't spoken with his parent in a bit. Joe reached for his phone, but it wasn't in his pocket.

"Safa?" he called out.

She walked back into the seating area. "Yes?"

"Have you seen my phone?" he asked.

"No, I haven't. When was the last time you used it?" she asked.

Joe thought about that. "I was going to call Am—oh no." His face fell.

"What's wrong?" Safa asked. She saw his worried expression.

"Can you hand me the phone? How do I dial out?" he asked.

Safa handed him the handset. "Just dial nine, then the number. Do you remember where you left your phone?" He nodded at her, but his worried look didn't diminish as he dialed.

He could hear the ringing through the receiver, and after four rings, someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, who is this?" Joe asked.

"Who are you?" was the reply.

"I'm the owner of the phone you're holding," he answered.

"It's him! Shut up, you guys! He finally called! Hey! How are you?" the voice said excitedly.

"Is this Officer Ramone?" Joe asked.

"Yeah! Hey, he remembered my name! Hang on, I'm putting you on speaker." Joe could hear Ramone talking to someone in the background. Then, he could hear the noises from the room. It sounded like quite a few people were listening in. He heard Ramone hushing them.

"So, my phone is still working?" he asked.

"I don't know how, but yeah! The screen is smashed to shit, but the button keypad is fine. This thing is ancient! Hey! Didn't you take a bullet? Are you in the hospital? Where are you?" Ramone fired off his questions like a machine gun.

"I'm healing. I don't think I'm supposed to give out any information. I probably wasn't even supposed to call. NSA and all. Sorry, I'm really new at this. I just called to see if anyone had found my phone. I'd really like to get it back. Any chance I could get you to drop it off at the NSA office in LA?" he asked carefully.

"Dude! You gotta come by the station! There are so many people here who wanna shake your hand! The way you saved those guys—"

"Wait a minute, I didn't save them! You and Officer Willis did! I'm so glad to hear Julian and Rick are going to make it. I was worried sick that they wouldn't. You guys were amazing at getting them out of there! All I did was push a dumpster. You two carried them on your backs while being shot at! You two are the heroes!" Joe said emphatically.

There was silence on the other end. Joe listened carefully and heard an odd sound. Was someone crying?

"Dude, I may be a total dirtbag for saying this, but you gotta come to the station to get the phone. You have so many people in this room right now who want to show how much they appreciate what you did. I understand you gotta be all secret and shit, but please, you gotta come. Please!"

Suddenly, Joe heard everyone in the room calling for him to visit them. He was really taken aback by how much these grown men and women were pleading and cajoling.

"Okay, okay, I'll see what I can do!" Joe gasped.

Thunderous applause and whistles came from the phone, and Joe had to hold it away from his ear. Safa's eyebrows went up when she heard the noise.

"Listen! Listen!" Joe tried to get a word in.

"Shaddup! He's trying to speak!" Ramone bellowed, and the room quieted down.

"Okay, like you said, I am supposed to maintain a low profile, so what I did out there really got me in trouble." He heard jeers and boos, and Ramone had to shut them up again. "Hey, I'd do it again in a second, but the next time I see you guys, maybe we can do it without the press, cameras, and publicity? And bullets?" That got a laugh. "I'm not in town at the moment, but I will be coming back shortly, I hope. I'll call you on this phone when I do. Okay? Oh, and Officer Ramone, I won't forget to replace your chocolate bar." The room erupted in good-natured laughter and ribbing at Ramone's expense.

"What the FUCK is going on here?" said a new voice.

"Willis! It's him! He called! He's coming!" Ramone said excitedly.

"Get the fuck outa here," Willis scoffed.

"Officer Willis, is that you?" Joe asked.

"Geezus! It is you! How are you! You got shot!" Willis blurted.

"I'm healing. Listen, I just wanted to say how impressed I was with you and Officer Ramone. It was an honor to witness your heroism. It was a damn scary place to witness it from, but I'm glad I was there with the two of you."

The room had gone silent again, and Joe was positive he heard crying this time.

"Ramone said something about you coming to see us?" Willis said with a tight throat.

"Yes, sir. As soon as I'm able," Joe said.

"That's good. I'd like that. I will see you then. All right, people, let's get back to work. Hang that up—" and the call was over.

While Joe had been on the call, the food had arrived, and Safa set it out for them. She took the handset from him and pushed his chair to the table. Joe's mouth watered when he smelled the steak, baked potato, and green beans. He noticed Safa had ordered herself a small green salad.

"Safa, are you a vegetarian? Does my eating meat offend you?" he said, watching her expression.

Her serious face hadn't changed. "I'm a vegetarian, but I'm not offended by other people eating meat."

"Good! If I do anything that offends you, please feel free to let me know." Joe said.

"I will," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

With that, he tucked into his meal. He still had trouble with his right arm, so he struggled to cut his steak. Safa reached over, took the knife and fork away from him, and cut the steak into bite-sized strips. She returned the fork, and he devoured the meal with quick efficiency. They ate in comfortable silence, Joe enjoying his delicious food and Safa watching Joe enjoy it as she nibbled on her salad. When he was full, he pushed back from the table and was rewarded with a sharp jab in his right shoulder. His right hand fell to his lap as the nerves down his right arm rebelled. A pained look passed over his face.

"Are you alright?" Safa asked.

"Yeah, just hurt my shoulder again. Can we try the sauna now?" he said hopefully.

"Certainly. I won't be able to take you to the gym's changing room, so you'll need to get undressed here. Do you need help with that?"

Joe realized he'd need her help as his right arm wasn't cooperating much. "Uh, yeah."

Safa stood and rolled him into the bedroom. He looked around and saw it was also nicely appointed. There were two four-poster double beds with leather accents on the head and footboards. All of the furniture was deep, rich wood.

She rolled him forward so he was facing one of the bedposts. She locked the wheels on his chair.

"Lean forward and hold the post. Then slide your arms up until it begins to hurt and stop," she instructed.

Joe's right arm had woken up by this point, so he was able to reach forward and do as she suggested. While he held his arms in place, Safa reached down, pulled the bottom of his shirt upwards, and carefully slid it over his shoulders, head, and down his arms. He let go of the post, and she put the shirt on the bed.

Safa knelt beside his chair, undid his laces, and pulled off his shoes and socks. She flipped up the footrests, and he put his feet on the floor. She walked over to the closet, got one of the dressing gowns, and dropped it on the bed.

"Lean forward, grab the post again, and pull yourself up," she said. As she had helped him from the stretcher to the wheelchair downstairs, she was there to help him rise to his feet. He was surprised by the strength in her whipcord-thin body. He tried not to focus on how nice her hands felt on his body. He got pissed off at his bloody hormones or whatever it was that made him so freaking aware of every woman around him. He used that anger and his pain to power himself to his feet. His eyes shuttered to black as he stood there shaking and gritting his teeth. He glanced down and saw Safa looking up at his eyes. With his enhanced vision, he could detect the small motions of the trembling running through her body and in her hands on his chest and back. He forced his eyes back to normal and apologized.

"It's quite alright. It's actually a fascinating autonomous response. I was quite literally frozen in place. May I ask what triggered your eyes to change? Was it the pain?" she asked.

He didn't want to tell her the real cause as it was embarrassing. "Yes, the pain."

"Mr. Neumann, you are a very bad liar." she chastised him gently. "I'm a scientist. I need truth."

Joe's face blushed. "Even when it's embarrassing?"

"The truth is the truth. It carries no baggage like guilt or embarrassment. Those are unnecessary. Please tell me the truth," she insisted.

"Uh, okay. I—I was angry with myself. For being too aware of how nice your hands felt on me... feel on me," he amended as he noticed she hadn't taken her hands off him the entire time.

Her hands tugged away, and it was her turn to blush. "No embarrassment in truth?" he chided. Her eyes flared with anger, but she crushed it to a neutral expression. "Do you wish to go to the sauna or tease me?" she said sternly.

Joe really wanted to use the sauna, so he shut up and looked forward. Safa pulled the wheelchair back so she could move around him. He felt her hands grip the button on his pants and pop it loose roughly. The jolt stabbed his back, and he hissed through his teeth.

"My apologies. I will endeavor to be gentler," she said contritely.

She eased her hands under his waistband and slowly slid his pants and underwear over his hips and down his legs. There was a brief moment when the elastic waistband of his underwear snagged on his partial rigidity, but it snapped free.

Safa knelt at his feet once again to pull the clothes from his feet. Joe continued to rise, much to his embarrassment. She stood and placed his pants and underwear on the bed. She picked up the dressing gown and walked to his right side to have him put that arm through first. It went around his back, and he had some difficulty getting his other arm in. They realized there was no way it would fit around him. She removed it from his arm, wrapped the dressing gown around his waist, and tied it as best she could. She threw a large towel from the bathroom across his shoulders. Once he was ready, she pushed the chair back behind him and helped him sit again. Feet back up on the rests, Joe was prepared to go.

"One minute, please," she said, disappearing into the washroom with the second dressing gown. Moments later, she exited wearing the gown and flip-flops.

"You're coming in the sauna with me?" Joe said with surprise.

"Of course I am. I'm your nurse," she said, equally surprised at his question. She pushed him to the door connecting their suite with Christof's, and she knocked. He came to the door, holding his hand over the receiver. He looked at the way they were dressed in surprise. Safa whispered sauna, and Christof nodded and smiled. He gave them the thumbs up and returned to his call.

Safa and Joe made their way to the gym and grabbed some towels. The gym was empty, as was the sauna when they found it.

"Do you mind if we use the sauna dry? That feels better for me. Grab a bottle of water before you come in," he said.

Safa wheeled him to the wall next to the sauna and locked the wheels. He used the wall to brace himself as he stood. Looking around and finding themselves alone, he dropped the large towel and gown back onto the chair, and Safa wrapped the smaller towels around his waist.

Again, the feel of her slim, graceful fingers on his skin had the expected reaction, and the towel began to tent up.

"I'm terribly sorry about that," he said gruffly.

Safa just shook her head to indicate he needn't apologize and looked away.

Joe shuffled along and entered the sauna. A blast of hot, dry air felt marvelous to him, and he could feel his skin reacting already. The sauna was a large room with two levels of benches all around the perimeter and a large heater in the center of the room. Natural woods and soft lighting made it a welcome oasis, and Joe shuffled his way around the room until he was at the back wall. He eased himself down onto his stomach on the lower bench and stretched out. Just as he settled in, he heard Safa enter the room.

Safa peered into the dim interior and waited for her eyes to adjust. At first, she couldn't see Joseph, and she became nervous. Then she saw his foot resting on the bench from behind the heater. She rushed forward to ensure he hadn't fallen and saw that he was resting comfortably on his stomach, arms at his sides, face turned towards her, and eyes closed. His towel had ridden up, and she could see his butt cheeks. She pulled the fabric down to a more discreet position.

She leaned forward to get a better look at the bruising on his back. Safa was surprised that the black smudges under his skin had shrunk a little since she first looked at it in the conference room. His right shoulder was still the dark charcoal black of a severe weather storm cloud. Her eyes went out of focus for a second, and she looked away. She noticed it wasn't her eyes that had unfocused but rather what she had been looking at. Joe's skin was slowly rippling! She reached out and placed her hand over a section of rippling skin and felt it tickle her palm. She pulled her hand back and saw her palm was lightly abraded. His skin was cleaning itself, maybe? Oh, to have some form of a microscope to see his skin in action! She watched for a while and saw that the bruising under these skin areas was getting lighter.

Safa's eyes were burning, and she remembered she had the bottle of water, which by now was pretty warm. She took some big swigs of water and swallowed them down. She was so tempted to pour some of the water on his back to see the effect of water on his skin. She got an idea instead. She hustled out of the sauna and stumbled when cool, moist air smacked her in the face. Safa oriented herself and made a beeline for the bulletin board she'd seen on the way in. Next to it was a notepad and a suggestion box. She tore off three clean sheets of paper and rushed back to the sauna. Bracing herself, she stepped back into the dry heat. It felt like a blast furnace. She moved to Joe's side, took one of the sheets of paper, and held it over the skin above a bruise. She didn't press down on the bruise but just let the weight of the paper and a gentle fingertip keep it in place. After a minute or two, Safa noticed the paper was taking on a dark tone where it touched his skin. Two minutes more, and the center of the paper was black! Where human skin worked in layers and constantly shed itself, Joseph's skin seemed to be a single uniform layer that provided exceptional protection and expelled the waste products of injuries like a conveyor system. It worked best in dry and hot conditions. My, it was so hot.

The next thing Safa was aware of was the pounding in her head and lying on sheets softer than she had ever experienced in her life. She opened her eyes and saw she was in one of the double beds in their hotel room. She looked to her left and saw Joseph lying on the other one, watching her.

"Hi. How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

"My head hurts! What happened?"

"You passed out in the sauna and fell on me. I woke up and carried you to the wheelchair and brought you back up to the room. We think you're dehydrated. You shouldn't have stayed in there that long. What were you doing? Oh! And I found this in your hand. What is it?" he said, holding up a small square piece of paper with a black smudge in its center.

"Oh, thank goodness you brought it with you! I need to—Ooooo." She tried getting up, but her pounding head pushed her back to the pillow.

"I think you need to drink some water and rest," he said. He slid off the bed, brought her a large glass of water, and helped her sit up to drink it. Afterward, he eased her back to her pillow and picked up the paper again. "Now, what is this?"

"It's your bruise. I watched your skin slowly expelling the waste products of your injury. It was fascinating! I need to analyze that paper!" She tried moving again, but once more, she slumped to the bed.

"I don't think so. Nurse Neema has been fired, and now Nurse Joe is caring for her. He says she has to remain in bed and drink fluids. I will call Agent White for you if you like so she can take this back to a lab."

"NO! Ah, ow, I mean no. No other lab techs gets their hands on that. If you could call her and ask her to bring my portable lab, I can walk her through the process of preserving the sample. Wait! How did you carry me? You could barely move yourself!" she said, puzzled.

"My right arm isn't too good yet, but I have much more energy since lunch, and the heat felt so good it made me feel much better. I held you to my chest with my left arm and carried you that way," he said with a blush.

"Why are you blushing? Did you..." she said, stopping short of accusing him of molesting her.

"My parents raised me to always act as a gentleman. I would NEVER take advantage of a woman like that!" he said vehemently.

"Then why the blush?" she pushed.

"I- I remembered how good it felt. I can't seem to help that. I'm sorry." Joe stuttered out. He reached over and picked up the phone handset. Safa put her hand out for it, so he let her make the call. She wasn't on the line for long.

"She'll be here in an hour with Director Bannon. You'll need to notify Mr. Waechter," she said.

"In the meantime, you rest! Nurse's orders," he replied. He stood and walked over to the door and dimmed the lights.

Safa closed her eyes and allowed herself to rest as she wanted to be the one to work on the paper sample when Rachel arrived. Then she noticed that the only thing she was wearing was the towel she'd worn into the sauna, which had mostly come undone. The next image in her mind was her body pressed up against Joseph's broad chest. She was glad he had left the room, as her face was now burning as brightly as his had been.

Chapter 21

Bannon sat in the same chair he'd occupied the day before and looked around the room. It looked no more welcoming today. Even less welcoming was the fact that none of the agency leaders had arrived yet.

The previous evening, he'd gone to see Christof and Joseph at their hotel to explain that the Director of the NSA had demanded his resignation in the meeting he'd had in the man's office. He warned them that he was unsure of his current status.

He hadn't gone into detail as the meeting was private. Bannon was nothing if not discreet. It came with the job.

The meeting had started off with Frank's immediate demand for his resignation. His direct report, Hillary Scott, had tried to talk reason to Frank, but his ire would not be quenched without blood, and he wanted Bannon's.

Bannon calmly told him he could have it, but perhaps he should read the contract before making rash decisions. Little demanded Bannon explain what he meant by that, so he opened the contract to the section that stated Director Roger Bannon would be the Neumann family's and the law firm's primary contact from the NSA. Agent Rachel White would be the lead investigator. The two would be in charge of assigning any and all required personnel. The lawyers had stamped this section as non-negotiable.

Frank had become livid and had accused Director Bannon of treason. That was when Hillary Scott had had enough. She informed her boss that if he didn't calm down and start listening, then along with Director Bannon's, he could have her resignation and the resignation of most of the Directors under her. It hadn't been an idle threat. She was a straight shooter like Bannon and had the respect and loyalty of her team, and they knew if she was getting out in this way, there would be a good reason for them to go as well. If Frank didn't listen to her, the NSA would be effectively crippled.

Red-faced with suppressed rage, Frank Little sat back in his chair and asked him to explain how he'd allowed this critical threat to society to remain at large. Bannon shared a look with Hillary and took a deep breath. Director Little had made his position very clear.

"This case began with a report that was given no credibility and was considered a waste of time. I believe yours was one of the names I saw on the order for the agent responsible for it to be placed on the watch list for culling. Connecting this report to an anomalous case involving malfunctioning security machinery in an airport was an intuitive leap by said agent. This led to the apparent terrorist attack at LAX, where I became involved. I heard her evidence, and while I did see an avenue for investigation, I understood that the agency would not find it credible without physical proof. The very thing which had damned the initial report. Had I presented this case to you before I had physical proof, please tell me what your response would have been. By the time physical proof became available, Waechter, Bergstrӧm, and Volkov already had their endgame prepared. An endgame, which, for the most part, meets our own requirements. You want containment. We get non-disclosure, which nets us the same thing."

"Please understand one very important thing, sir. They gave us the physical evidence that made this a case you'd be willing to listen to, not because they were afraid of us but because an American citizen was attacked as an infant and unwillingly subjected to an alien symbiotic creature on American soil. He wants to know what he can do to help find out what he has become. He wants to help prepare us for when these aliens come again."

Frank interrupted. "There are protocols we have to follow for the sole reason of maintaining social stability! This situation is now completely outside of that protocol!"

"With all due respect, sir, when was that protocol devised, and how often has it been applied to the events it was designed for? Does the protocol describe the event that happened twenty-one years ago in North Dakota? Probably only by the loosest interpretation. Perhaps the protocol should be considered a guide should the scenario it describes happen. Outside of that, perhaps we should rely upon common sense, good judgment, and core values like honor, courage, and my favorite, integrity."

"Director Bannon, that will be enough. Please wait outside." Hillary said sternly. He knew she agreed with him, but she'd have to find some way to make this right. He just didn't have the stomach to deal with this politically-appointed buffoon. Thirty minutes later, she left the office, and they walked back to her office in silence. Once her door was closed, Bannon apologized for shooting his mouth off.

Hillary held up her hand. "The blowhard deserved it, but you're right. You were out of line. He wants the council to meet before we continue our meeting tomorrow to discuss a unified strategy to replace you and your team. He's still convinced he can fit this reality-based square peg in his untried protocol's round hole. I'll do what I can tomorrow, but be prepared for a fight."

The council door slammed open, bringing Bannon back from his memories. Frank Little was first through the door, and his face continued to have the red hue of suppressed rage. Bannon hoped that meant his little campaign hadn't gone as planned. Hillary followed him in, and she just looked tired. Kevin Hughes looked grim, and Greg Jefferson kept his expression neutral.

General MacAvoy entered and nodded to Bannon before sitting in his seat. He looked far happier than he did the previous day. The Director wondered if that was a good or bad thing.

Frank Little began. "We've all had a chance to read your contract, Mr. Waechter. Personally, I think it reads more like an ultimatum."

"Ultimatums don't benefit both sides, Director Little, as our contract clearly does," Christof returned immediately. He got a scowl from the man for that.

"Be that as it may, it appears we are going to move forward with it. General MacAvoy has been given a special commission from the President to work with you to do the initial assessment of the alien incursion. If there is nothing else...." He looked at the other panel members and briefly glanced at Bannon. No one objected. "We are done here." He quickly stood and left the room, followed by Kevin Hughes. Greg had a brief word with the General, then exited as well.

Hillary stopped in front of Bannon. "A Presidential order trumps all. Keep me informed of your progress." He nodded to his boss and smiled. She walked away with a smile on her face as well.

The General stopped in front of Joe, who was sitting on the bench with only his right arm in a sling.

"Weren't you confined to a stretcher yesterday?" he said.

"I think that was mostly due to exhaustion. I overexerted myself, got shot, and didn't get to eat for too long. Three strikes and my body needed to recharge. I do heal pretty fast," he replied.

"May I see?" the General asked.

Joe stood up, and Safa helped lift the shirt on his back. The bruise was half the size it was the previous day.

"Sauna's have a remarkable recuperative effect on Mr. Neumann's body. In a hot and dry environment, his skin undergoes an amazing transformation. I witnessed it expelling the waste products of his injuries." Safa's eyes were practically sparkling as she spoke.

"Ewww! Can you make it sound more disgusting?" Joe complained.

The General grunted in amusement. He turned to Christof. "I'd like to assess the incursion site right away. I understand the Glennville airport may be able to accommodate larger aircraft. Is that the case?"

"Yes, General. The original airport was rebuilt to provide a full-scale commercial-traffic training center. This means state-of-the-art equipment and runways that can support any current aircraft. You weren't thinking of bringing in a squadron, were you?"

"No, we understand the meaning of low profile. A single Hercules transport will report a mechanical issue requiring an emergency landing. The personnel will be off duty and given leave while the plane is grounded for repairs. Their transport will be aboard the plane. They will actually be a squad of Marines and a team of engineers. They will join us at the Neumann property to begin the inspection and excavation. May I assume you will be joining us?"

"Unfortunately, no. As much as I would love to fly in a Hercules transport plane, I must return to New York as business awaits," Christof said with genuine disappointment. "I will fly Director Bannon, Agent White, Safa Neema, and Joseph to Glennville as the arrival of our plane is a routine occurrence. We keep two cars parked in our hanger at the airport they can use to get to the Neumann homestead. When can they expect your visit?"

"Oh eight hundred hours tomorrow morning," he said.

Christof turned to his young charge. "Joseph, does your father have excavation equipment?"

"We have a backhoe," Joe said.

"Is that sufficient to begin with, General?" Christof asked.

"As far as I know. The engineers will make their assessment when they get there. We can bring in any additional equipment we need later. Until tomorrow, then." With a nod, he left.

Christof evaluated the group before him. Director Bannon looked like he'd dodged a bullet... then stepped off a cliff. Agent White looked like she'd won the lottery and wanted to share it with Bannon. Christof knew the look she had in her eyes and wondered if Bannon was aware of it. Safa Neema was working on maintaining her serious expression, but her eyes twinkled with excitement.

Joseph, he looked a little lost.

"What's wrong, Joseph?" he asked.

"I don't know. I just got the weird feeling that I've gone full circle. Maybe it's because I'm going home, but I feel like a different person from the one who left. I'm not making sense. Sorry, I don't mean to be a downer," he said, looking uncomfortable.

Christof patted Joe's left arm. "Not to worry. All will be fine. Do you want to contact your parents and let them know they'll have guests tonight?"

"Uh yeah, about that. I lost my cell back in Santa Monica. The police have it. Officer Ramone, in fact. I told him I'd come get it," Joe said.

"You were speaking with the police?" Bannon asked curtly. He'd recovered from his earlier shock.

"Actually, I called my cell, and Officer Ramone answered. Don't worry. I didn't give away any secrets. I just thanked them for getting my phone, and they asked me to pick it up so they could thank me for helping them save the two officers. I told them I couldn't do that unless it was kept low profile," he explained.

"Son, you don't seem to understand what that term means," Bannon said.

Joe just looked embarrassed. "I promised."

Bannon sighed. "Let's not deal with that crisis right now. What hotels are available in Glennville? We'll need three rooms."

"You can stay at the house with us. If the General and his people are going to get there early, it makes more sense for us to all stay in one location. We have six bedrooms and pull-out beds in the games room downstairs. I assume the surveillance teams will be joining us?"

"That's a big imposition on your parents!" Bannon said

"You don't know my parents," Joe said with a grin. "They are the best, most welcoming people you'll ever meet."

"It's true, and what Joseph said makes sense. It is the most practical solution logistically. At least for the first night," Christof agreed.

"When can we leave?" Joe asked, eager to see his parents.

Christof chuckled. "Let me call your parents and let them know you and your party will see them this afternoon. They may be welcoming, but I'm sure they would appreciate some advance warning."

Chapter 22

Joe stood in the middle of his room and looked around. He realized nothing about the room had changed, but the difference he felt came from inside him. His perspective had changed. He felt a little lost like his moorings had come loose and he was drifting.

He heard a gentle knock on the door and looked back to see his mother standing in the doorway. She was smiling, but there was concern in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"That was my question to you. You've been standing in that spot for a few minutes, not moving. Are you all right?" Clara asked.

"Oh. I guess. I don't know. It was only, what, a bit over a week ago that I left, and now I feel like a totally different person now that I'm back. Everything I dreamed of doing and being when I left now feels like someone else's dreams. I don't know what I'm supposed to do next," he said quietly.

Clara came into the room and hugged her son. "I can still recall the days when I could hold your frail little body in my arms and cuddle you against me. Now that you've grown into such a big man, I've become the one who feels small and frail when we hug. But Joseph, what hasn't changed is how much love I feel from you. When you were an infant, I was always amazed at how readily you would smile at me and how much warmth and love I felt from you. Even though you're so much bigger, that feeling remains. You have such a good heart, and I'm so very proud of you!"

"Thanks, Mom," he said, giving her a squeeze.

"As for what you do next, we're all faced with that question from time to time. Look to your heart and think about what makes you happy and feels right. If it's what you are doing now, then keep doing it. If not, then find out what does make you happy. Now, come downstairs and help me set the table for dinner. We have a lot of people to feed tonight!"

There had been a big group of people on Christof's jet. They'd almost been at capacity for the sleek aircraft. Director Bannon insisted that Safa only bring the essentials, so she restricted her baggage to a small carry-on for her clothes and two large silver cases with portable lab equipment. In comparison, the Director and Agent White only brought small rolling suitcases and their briefcases. The four-person surveillance team each carried a small duffle bag. Christof had collected Joe's backpack and a garment bag containing his four tailored outfits.

No one had been very talkative during the flight, and the lights had been dimmed to allow the two overnight surveillance team members to rest. They were currently sleeping in the games room, which was closed off for them.

Dinner had been scheduled to coincide with the hours when both teams were awake so everyone could dine together. Clara began preparing the meal when she heard from Christof that they would arrive in the afternoon. She'd asked about dietary restrictions, so there were two huge lasagnas, one meat, one vegetarian, and fresh baked bread and salads.

When everyone gathered around the table, Joe felt a weird sense of unreality settle over him. Here he was in the familiar setting of his childhood home with his parents beside him, and sitting with them were the people involved in his new life. Joe looked around the table at all the faces. His Dad sat at the head of the table with his Mom at his Dad's right, facing Joe across the table. To her right was Agent Salt, then Agent Max, and Safa Neema. Director Bannon was sitting at the other place of honor at the foot of the table. To his right were Agent White, Agent Pepper, and Agent Ringo.

When the food was served, and people were enjoying their meals, Clara asked Joe to introduce her to his new friends, as she had been in the kitchen when everyone arrived.

Joe nodded, put his utensils down, and wiped his mouth. He pointed out each as he named them so his Mom would put the name to the face. "Well, you remember Agent White, Director Bannon, and Safa Neema." Clara nodded to the three. "Sitting next to me is Agent Ringo and Agent Pepper. They are my daytime surveillance team. Sitting next to you is Agent Salt and Agent Max. They're new and are my nighttime surveillance team." It was the first time he'd used the pseudonyms for the new team members. Agent Pepper began to choke on his food when he heard Joe had named his coworker Salt.

"Agent Salt and Pepper! What an amazing coincidence!" Clara exclaimed.

Pepper really lost it then and held his napkin to his face, which was turning beet red from suppressed laughter. Ringo also had trouble keeping herself from laughing, though she had a big grin. Agent Salt wore a curious smile on his face, and Agent Max just turned her super intense gaze upon Joe, which he tried to ignore.

"Sorry, Mom, I should have explained. Surveillance team members don't usually interact with their target. They're supposed to be invisible. I'm not supposed to know they're there, but that doesn't work for me. In light of that, they've asked to remain as anonymous as possible in the hopes I don't become too familiar with them and give their presence away while they work. Eating dinner with me is about as far from normal for them as it gets.

"Their target? They're still watching you? Whatever for?" Clara said, surprised.

Director Bannon answered that one. "It's our policy to maintain a watch on persons of interest in an investigation. This is why the original agents were assigned. When the case... took the turn it did, I recommended the surveillance team be replaced with a protection detail, but I was turned down as it was considered too intrusive for Joseph. The only option left to me was to keep the surveillance teams going. They do watch him, but they are also watching for other watchers. They aren't tactical like a protection detail, so they are not expected to engage any enemies, but they give early warning."

While Clara absorbed that, Joe looked back at Agent Max, who looked over at him occasionally as she ate. When she saw him looking back, she stopped eating and asked him a question. "Why Max?"

"Uh, it's the intensity of your eyes. They seem to be set to Maximum. So, Max." he said, hoping he wasn't offending her.

"He's got your number," Agent Salt said with a smirk.

They all enjoyed the meal and the wine Karl served with it. Agents Salt and Max drank water as their shift started right after dinner. When they finished, they went out to scout the perimeter.

Agents Pepper and Ringo excused themselves and headed downstairs to retire for the night. Karl and Clara pointed out which rooms their remaining guests would use. There were three unused bedrooms upstairs, so each could have their own.

Bannon claimed to have some work to do, so he thanked them for dinner and retired to his room.

Agent White did the same and retired to hers.

Safa needed to catch up on her reading, so she curled up in a chair in the living room next to the fireplace with her tablet. Karl and Clara were also reading in the living room. Joe felt restless. He decided to use the sauna to speed his recovery along, though he was much better already. He made his way to the basement and turned on the sauna. It would be ready by the time he was.

Joe went back up to his bedroom. He undressed and pulled on a swimsuit with his dressing gown over top.

On his way back down to the basement, he noted Agent Max coming in the front door. She looked cold and unhappy.

"Everything all right, Agent?" Joe asked.

"Any particular reason we had to leave the warmth of Santa Monica, California, for the cold of Glennville, North Dakota, in November?" she groused.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I hope we can go back soon. In the meantime, you can warm yourself by the fire, or if you want a rapid thaw, you can join me in the sauna. It's a dry heat sauna, but I keep it very hot. Ten minutes maximum for you in there, but you'll be toasty in no time," he offered.

Agent Max turned her intense scrutiny on him to see if this was a pick-up line, but could see he was just trying to be helpful. "Sauna it is. I have to get back out there shortly to spell my partner."

Joe descended the stairs and hung his dressing gown on the hook outside the door. He looked back, and Agent Max had taken her overcoat off and was staring at him in his small swimsuit.

"Grab one of those bottles of water. It's hot inside," he suggested. They kept a stash of bottled water on a shelf next to the sauna.

She might change her mind, but Joe slipped inside and went to the far corner. The unit wasn't very large. You could get four adults into the booth or Joe and two others. He sat back on the bench and felt the heat working its way into his muscles.

The door opened, and she stepped inside. Joe glanced over, then immediately looked away in embarrassment. She was down to her bra and panties.

"Ah! That feels so much better!" she remarked, enjoying the heat. "I'm originally from Arizona, so this is what I'm used to, in the summer at least."

"The last time I was in a sauna with someone, she passed out from the heat, so remember the ten-minute maximum," he said.

They sat in comfortable silence. Joe did some stretching exercises with his right shoulder and felt it slowly loosening up. When he glanced at the clock, it indicated twelve minutes had passed.

"Uh, it's time," he said.

"What? Oh, right. I'd better go trade places with my partner." She moved to the door and noticed Joe hadn't moved. "You coming out?"

"I have another forty-eight minutes to go," he replied.

She looked down at the water bottle she'd been sipping and realized it was empty. Joe didn't have any water with him. With a final glance back, she stepped outside the booth and slipped back into her clothes. She recalled her last glimpse of him basking in the heat. Joseph truly was eye candy, but this case was weird and getting weirder by the minute. But she'd learned from her partner not to ask unnecessary questions.

Chapter 23

As promised, the General and his troops rolled their trucks to a halt next to the house at precisely eight. Their ruse had worked flawlessly. The Hercules was parked next to Christof's hanger, and the repairs were underway. The off-duty sailors had been given liberty and used the trucks on board the transport to leave the airport. Eight Marines and four engineers were with the General.

Karl stood on the porch with Joe, Director Bannon, and Agent White. They were waiting on Safa, who burst through the front door as if she expected them to leave without her. She was dragging one of the large silver suitcases. Joe picked up the case for her. With everyone present, they walked down the steps and got into one of the SUVs they'd brought from the airport. Joe put the case in the back. Then he drove as Karl needed to switch vehicles at the barn. Karl got out and went into the big equipment shed. A minute later, they heard the roar of a big engine. Karl drove his combine harvester out of the shed and headed down the lane. Joe pulled in behind him and followed him all the way back to the furthest field on their property.

"Joseph, have you visited this field before?" Agent White asked.

"No, Dad told me years ago that the field had been poisoned and warned me to stay out of it," he replied.

"So, you've never seen the dead zone he spoke of?" she asked again.

"Uh, no. I've never been past the field's leading fence," he said, annoyed.

Karl stopped the combine and climbed down to open the lock on the fence. Joe got out and helped him pull the fence gate back through the overgrown weeds. Karl climbed back into the harvester's cab, and Joe returned to the SUV. Karl started the big farm vehicle and took it into the field. He carved a path through the weeds, which the other vehicles followed. Karl was aiming for the back corner of the pasture in mostly a straight line. When small trees blocked their route, Karl went around them to prevent damaging the harvester's cutting blades. Soon enough, Karl veered right, and they could see the fencing he'd placed around the dead zone. Except now, this area seemed to extend an additional three feet beyond the fence on all sides. Once Karl had driven the combine all the way around the fenced area, he made one extra circumference to extend the open space around the dead zone. After his second pass, he waved at them and drove the large vehicle back towards the homestead. Joe knew he was returning it to the shed, and he'd return in his truck shortly.

They parked the vehicles as far back from the fenced area as possible. Everyone piled out of the cars, and the General walked over to their group.

"Did Mr. Neumann install the fencing inside the dead zone?" he asked.

"No. I believe he said he installed it outside of the area." Bannon replied.

"Then it appears to be growing." the General said grimly. He turned back to speak with his engineers.

Joe got his first look at the dead area. It wasn't much to look at. The ground was grey like ash. He saw Safa wearing a doctor's mask and gloves as she took a sample of the ash. She placed it in a test tube with some water in it. She inserted the tube into the side of a small machine, and it chirped at her. A few seconds later, something appeared on the device's screen.

She pulled the test tube out and used a small glass tube dropper to extract a sample to put on a slide, which she slid under a microscope lens. A few seconds later, she looked up and yelled at Bannon.

"Sir! It's biological! Director! We have to keep people from breathing in the dust! It's an organic corrosive. It's alive and consuming the ground cover," Safa yelled excitedly.

Bannon rushed over to MacAvoy with Safa on his heels. "General! Keep your people back! The dust is some kind of biological agent. We don't know its impact on lung tissue, but it consumes ground vegetation."

Agent White was taking Geiger Counter readings as she walked around the edge of the grey dust area. She had placed a medical mask over her nose and mouth and was staring at the results on her detector. When she saw a spike in the reading, she put a flag in the dirt one foot outside the dust area. It took her twenty minutes, but eventually, she'd circled the entire area and returned to the team.

"What did you find, Rachel?" Bannon asked. The General was next to him and waiting to hear her answer.

Her brow crinkled as she tried to make sense of the pattern she'd mapped. "There are regular hot spots around the circumference of the area. Clusters of three hot spots with nine sets of clusters evenly placed around the area. It can't be natural due to its regularity. There isn't a lot of energy, but something definitely is or was there."

"Karl, can you point out where you saw this light gate?" Bannon asked.

Karl walked over with Joe. "It was probably about twenty feet in from the edge of the fence directly north of where that truck is parked."

"Well, that's nowhere near the center of the circle. It seems like a random placement," the General noted with dissatisfaction.

A small military truck pulled in behind the others, and two men got out. They pulled large cases from the back and opened them up. The Engineers stepped forward, and each took a hazmat suit. Safa had confirmed that the organism was fairly large, so a proper hazmat filter would be sufficient, and oxygen tanks would not be required. They suited up and grabbed their gear. The Marines stepped forward and took gas masks from the second case. The field left them no natural cover, so they took positions next to the trucks, weapons ready.

Two engineers with thin ceramic probes were at the edge of the dead zone, jabbing them into the soil, attempting to determine if something was beneath it.

Two more of the Engineers stepped up to the metal mesh, and one held out a device and touched it to the lock on the fence. A few sparks arced from it. They turned back to look at the General, who listened to an earpiece.

"Mr. Neumann, may I assume you didn't electrify the fence?" the General asked.

"What!? No, of course not!" Karl said, stunned by this new development.

"Abort. I repeat. Abort." General MacAvoy said into his mic. The Engineers immediately headed back. The two by the fence only managed to turn around before they were shot in the back by some kind of energy weapon. They collapsed immediately and lay motionless.

No one saw where the shot came from. Joe snapped his eyes to black and scanned for movement. He saw the slightest ripple at the top of the fence post.

"General, it was the top of the fencepost by the gate!" Joe yelled, pointing. "There is something in the fencepost!"

General MacAvoy said something quietly into his mic, and a single shot rang out and punched right through the fencepost. There was a large flash, and sparks shot from the bullet holes. Joe saw the top of the fencepost on the other side of the gate start to open. "The other side of the gate!" Joe yelled, and a second shot punctured that tube with a similar effect.

"Joseph! Any others?" the General called.

"No sir, those posts are the only ones with sealed tops. And none of the others show any signs of movement," he answered. He looked at the men on the ground and saw them twitch. "General, the men are still alive. I can see movement. They're breathing!"

Then he was running. He heard yelling behind him, but he got to the men in seconds, put an arm around both, lifted them, and ran like hell back toward the truck. The other Engineers were waiting with outstretched arms. They took the men from Joe, and one of the Marines immediately examined the wounds.

Some of the Marines spotted motion over in the dead zone. They called it out, and the General pointed their attention to something rising from the ground. It was roughly cylindrical in shape, and it seemed to be hovering. It was the size of a garbage can but looked much more sinister due to several sharp projections. It had risen slowly, but when it moved across the field towards them, it accelerated very rapidly. As it hopped the fence, it began firing bolts of energy at the Marines, but they returned fire, and several bullets punched through the side of the cylinder. It flipped on its side and lost altitude immediately. It crashed into the ground and slid to a stop near the group beside the SUV. Bannon grabbed Rachel and Safa and pulled them behind the vehicle just as the cylinder started firing on them from the ground. Its shots were wild as it was damaged and struck the earth and the side of the truck. One beam grazed Karl's left arm, and he cried out in pain and collapsed between the SUV and the military truck. Joe yelled and ran for his father.

The cylinder got one more shot at Karl, but Joe jumped in the way. The beam struck his broad back. There was a terrific flash as the energy arced directly back to the cylinder and carved a huge chunk out of the machine. It sputtered and sparks shot out of the gash in its side. It stopped firing, so Joe scrambled to his father's side. Karl was grimacing in pain, and the outer edge of his left arm was scorched from exposure to the beam.

"Dad! Are you okay?" Joe cried out.

"Yeah, but it hurts like crazy, though!"

"Safa! Can you drive my dad back to the house? Have Mom call Doc Watson." Joe said, fishing his dad's keys from his jacket pocket. Safa was at their side instantly and helped Joe get Karl to his feet. He wobbled at first, then leaned on Safa as she led him back to his truck.

Joe returned to the far side of the SUV where Director Bannon, Agent White, and the General all waited with their guns drawn. The dead zone was quiet once more, and the cylinder appeared to be destroyed.

"Joseph, your jacket and shirt are smoldering," Bannon said.

"What?" Joe replied.

"The back of your shirt and your jacket have been burned away. The edges are still glowing," he explained.

Joe dropped to the ground and rolled on his back. When he stood up, Bannon confirmed the embers were out. Now Joe felt the draft.

"What exactly was that trick I just saw with the energy beam?" the General asked.

Bannon replied. "As I mentioned in that meeting in Washington, Joseph seems to have a natural resistance to energy weapons or energy of any kind. His body destroys x-ray machines, airport body scanners, Tasers, and anything that sends energy against it. It might be some kind of amplified feedback."

"General! We have movement!" one of the Marines yelled. Joe's eyes snapped to black, and he stepped around the car to get a better look. He made out the shapes of two more cylinders rising from the ground. "There are two more cylinders incoming!" he yelled.

Joe wasn't paying attention to the downed cylinder, so it caught him by surprise when it shot out a coil of metallic rope and coiled it around his right wrist. It was slightly thinner than his pinkie finger but incredibly strong.

"Son-of-a-GAH!" Joe yelled as the coil tightened painfully. It pulled him closer, and a beam of green light passed over his body. Joe felt dizzy and dropped to his knees. The light snapped off, and he tried breaking the coil but couldn't. The cylinder started making a loud, high-pitched wail, and the other two cylinders immediately stopped their charge. They changed course and flew to the spot Karl had mentioned previously.

"General, shoot the wire! I can't break it." Joe called out. He'd placed his feet against the cylinder and pulled his arm back as hard as he could as the metal rope slowly wound back inside the machine's body.

MacAvoy whispered something into his mic and yelled for Joe to hold as still as possible. Seconds later, a bullet ripped through the field and punched right through the coil half an inch from Joe's wrist. The sudden release of pressure sent Joe tumbling away from the cylinder and up against the side of the SUV. Bannon, Rachel, and the General opened fire on the cylinder, and chunks flew off. They stopped to reload, and Joe crawled behind the SUV.

Suddenly, they heard a weird humming. It made your bones vibrate disturbingly.

"The sound Karl described! It's a portal! They're opening a portal!" Bannon yelled.

"Philips! Paint the target and call in the airstrike! Fall back! Everyone fall back," the General yelled.

As they ran, they looked back and saw a huge rectangle of darkness opening, surrounded by a ripple of sickly-colored flames.

"Thirty seconds, General!"

They reached the field's southern edge and took shelter behind a huge pile of rocks. A decades-old remnant of preparing the area for planting.

"Ten seconds!"

The humming sound was less here but still itched along their skeletons.

General MacAvoy was watching the target on a tablet. It was picking up the direct feed from the camera mounted on the hood of the army truck, which was painting the target for the incoming missiles. The camera's signal was also going to a solid-state drive on his belt, but he needed to see what was happening. The two flying cylinders carried the one the Marines had shot down between them. They flew into the portal and disappeared. Seconds later, a stream of beings like the ones Karl described came pouring from the black doorway, all holding silver tubes. Maybe ten aliens made it out before a series of missiles slammed into the ground at their feet and exploded. The last two missiles went through the black surface. In all, a dozen missiles had been launched from two jets a mile away. The sound was deafening. The explosions were so rapid and close together that their shockwaves rippled and popped.

Then came a colossal thump, and the very ground heaved a foot under them. The shock wave blew the trees down, flung chunks of debris, and the army truck they'd left back at the site crashed into the opposite side of their rock pile. The fireball that roared into the sky was terrifyingly reminiscent of a mushroom cloud from a nuclear bomb. The heat was oppressive.

"We have to get out of here, General, or we'll cook!" Joe yelled. The General nodded and made a hand gesture to get his sailors moving. Three of them were still. The Marine medic checked and indicated that they were dead. With the two injured Engineers, that made five bodies, they had to carry out.

"Joseph, can you see if the portal is closed? Considering that explosion, I can't imagine it would still be open, but we must know for certain. We can't leave it open." the General said.

Joe scrambled to the top of the rock pile and peered over the top. The heat slapped him in the face, and his eyes immediately snapped to black. He was too far away to see clearly. He slid back down the rocks.

"I'll have to get closer. You get people back to the house, and I'll take a look. Does anyone have a camera?" Joe asked.

One of the Marines ran up and handed him his helmet. The man froze when he saw Joe's black eyes. Joe ignored him and inspected the helmet. A camera was mounted on the side and appeared to be running.

"It's okay. He's one of ours," the General said to the Marine.

The sailor nodded to the General and handed Joe the receiver drive, which he tucked into his back pocket. Joe put the helmet on, and he peeked around the rock pile. Again, the blast of heat felt like a physical blow. It felt uncomfortable, but he could tolerate it. He nodded at the General and Bannon and started running towards the inferno. He managed to get considerably close to where the dead zone had been, but the heat pressure finally stopped him. He saw an enormous crater, some bent and distorted metal at the bottom, and flames shooting out. The heat was so intense his jacket ignited, and he had to tear it away with his shirt. By the time he threw them away, they were engulfed in flames. With a final look with his augmented vision, he confirmed he saw no sign of the black door. He turned and ran back towards the rock pile. His shoes melted, so he kicked them off. Then his pants ignited. He grabbed the drive from the pocket and tore off the flaming fabric.

Soon, he was standing in the field naked except for the helmet and the drive in his hand. He started running again and made it to the shadow of the rock pile. Joe almost felt chilly away from the inferno raging in the back field. He didn't want to return to the house naked, but he had little choice now. He started jogging down the lane and was halfway back to the house when he saw headlights approaching him. He took the helmet off and held it modestly in front of himself. His Dad's truck skidded to a halt ten feet before him. He could see Bannon was driving and his dad in the passenger seat. Agent White jumped out of the back door and walked up to him with a Geiger counter extended in her hand. She passed it before his body, but it remained quiet. She leaned back from him as he was radiating so much heat. She gestured for him to follow her to the car.

When he got beside it, Joe took one look at the blanket-covered back bench seat and shook his head. He'd set the interior of the truck on fire. He made a gesture for Bannon to turn the car around. Once he had, they headed back to the house with Joe walking beside them. They rolled their windows down.

"What's with the Geiger counter?" Joe asked. His voice had an odd, hollow and brassy tone to it.

"If you were radioactive, I would have asked you to remain where you were. But you're clean, so that's good," Agent White said impassively.

"If I was radioactive?" Joe looked at his dad with concern.

"But you're not," she repeated.

Joe looked nervously at his dad, who was looking back at him with concern. "Are you okay, Dad?" he asked.

"Yes, your mother sprayed disinfectant on my arm and wrapped it with gauze. When we heard and felt the explosion, I wanted to come back, but Clara insisted I wait for someone to drive me. Then Roger and Rachel got back with the General. What happened?" he asked.

"They opened a portal, and the General called in an airstrike. He must have hit something vital because the whole dead zone is gone. There's a huge crater now, and some kind of structure underground is now burning very rapidly. The heat was crazy intense," he replied.

He saw Agent White put her hand out the window to feel the heat radiating from him. She pulled it back quickly when she got close and shook her fingers. "Your skin is painfully hot!" she exclaimed.

They exited from the farm lane, and Joe could see the house and all the activity surrounding it. Two more army trucks were in the driveway, and a portable command center had been set up on the lawn with large white spotlights illuminating the gloom caused by the black smoke rising high into the sky, blotting out the sun.

The truck stopped beside the house, and Joe stopped next to it.

Clara and Safa immediately ran toward Joe.

"STAY BACK!" Agent White yelled as she jumped out of the truck. Clara and Safa froze and stumbled back as heat waves rippled from Joe's skin. Their eyes widened as they saw his skin had darkened in the heat. Where he'd been a golden brown before, now his skin practically glowed with a deeper reddish gold.

Agent White ran around the back of the truck and went to the side of the house. She uncoiled the garden hose and set the sprayer to mist setting. She turned on the tap, approached the driveway, and held it ready.

Joe looked forward and saw scattered across the lawn and on the porch a bunch of military people he didn't recognize, plus the Marines, the Engineers, the General, all four of his surveillance team, Bannon, his parents, Safa, and even Doc Watson. They were all watching him. His eyes hadn't snapped back from black yet, probably due to the heat coming off his body. They all got a good look at him as he looked back.

Joe looked down, sighed, and tossed the helmet and storage unit onto the lawn, where they sizzled against the grass. With so many people watching him, there was little point in trying to maintain his modesty. He nodded, and Agent White squeezed the trigger. The water shot out in a dense mist, and Joe walked into it. He immediately felt it hissing on his skin and was surrounded by a cloud of steam. He slowly turned in place to let the mist get to all his skin. The hiss went on and on. He rubbed his hair with his hands, and the water hissed extra loudly as the heat was released from it. The steam slowly began to dissipate as his skin cooled. He finally held his hand up, and Agent White stopped the water. Safa was immediately at his side with the towel his mother had gone inside to get for him. Clara stood waiting a few steps away with his dressing gown and a smile.

Joe quickly rubbed the water from his body with the towel and then wrapped it around his waist. He stepped to his mother to get his robe. When he pulled it on, people started to move again. Joe blinked a few times and finally got his eyes to return to normal. His Mom and Dad were immediately before him to hug him, though he was careful of his father's arm. When they left to go into the house, he looked ahead he saw Doc Watson standing there with a strange, frustrated look on his face. Joe turned back to Safa. "Could you please speak with my friend here and tell him whatever he wants to know."

Safa glanced at Bannon, who just nodded. Joe bent down and picked up the helmet and storage unit. He walked to the General with Bannon and Agent White in the command tent. Joe placed the items on the table and warned the General they were still hot.

"Just how close did you get, son?" the General said with an awed voice.

"I don't know. Pretty close. Maybe two-hundred feet?" he guessed.

The group looked at each other, and the General connected the drive to the laptop he had on the table. The computer was connected to a projector that displayed the video on a large white screen set up ten feet away. The General scanned forward in the footage until he saw himself standing beside Joe by the rock pile. The camera's view switched as the helmet was passed to Joe. Then, the footage showed the blast site as Joe ran closer. The camera steadied and slowly panned across the wreckage of the structure. Then the camera jostled as Joe tore off his burning jacket and shirt. The view then showed the field as Joe ran back, stopping a few times to discard his burning clothes. The General turned off the video.

"That's excellent footage, Joseph, but you were much closer than two-hundred feet by my estimation." the General said.

"Joseph, you're getting hot again." Agent White said.

Joe untied his robe and took it off. The others stepped back as his body radiated strongly. His eyes snapped to black once more.

"You'd better return to the hose before that towel ignites," Bannon said.

"Dammit!" Joe cursed and rushed over to the side of the house with only his towel wrapped around his waist. Agent White was right behind him, and she got the hose going on him. More steam swirled around his body and from his hair. Joe felt so many eyes on him. He looked at the Agent with frustration written all over his face.

"I'm tired of all this attention, so I think I'll head inside to stand under the shower in my room. Are we going to have to evacuate?" he asked.

"I'll check with the General," she said.

Joe walked away dripping wet. He blinked his eyes back to his normal brown and went to the front door.

"Mom! Can I get a dry towel?" he called out. He knew better than to walk into the house dripping wet.

Thirty seconds later, Clara showed up at the front door with a towel in her hands. Joe thanked her and rubbed the excess water from his body. His Mom took the old towel, and he wrapped the new one around his waist. Then he made a mad dash up the stairs to his room and got his bedroom and bathroom doors between him and the crowd outside. The creepy feeling of all those eyes on him finally went away.

He tossed the wet towel into the laundry bin and then stepped into his shower. He got the water running on warm and sat on the floor under the gentle spray. There was just a little steam from his hair, and he took that as a sign that he'd dumped most of the heat he'd absorbed at the blast site.

He finally had a moment to process what he'd just gone through. There hadn't been time to think when he'd been in the moment. He just did what he had to do.

And there'd been aliens! The same bastards who turned him from a normal human baby into... what he was now. Something that was able to walk right up to an exploding inferno and not die from the heat. As the water washed over his skin, he looked at his hands and saw normal skin. He didn't feel different.

Now that he'd seen the damn aliens, it felt so much more real to him. It really was too much to absorb all at once.

He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Chapter 24

Joe awakened as the water shut off. He saw Safa drying herself off. She'd had to step in to get to the taps.

"The fire is out. Whatever was burning seems to have depleted. The site is still too hot to visit, but the danger appears to be over," she explained.

Joe rubbed his hands through his hair.

"Where did you get that bracelet?" she asked.

"What bracelet?" he asked, looking at his wrists. The piece of the coil that had latched onto his wrist was still there. He tried to pry it loose, but the broken end appeared to have melted into the surface, forming a tight bond. Joe couldn't slip his fingers under it or get any purchase on it.

"This is a piece of that damn machine that shot at Dad. It grabbed me, and I couldn't break free. They finally had to shoot the wire to break it. This last piece still won't let go."

"General MacAvoy is asking to debrief you," she said, still examining the smooth ring of metal on his wrist and its strange markings.

Joe realized he was sitting on the shower floor totally naked in front of Safa, and she seemed totally unaware. That actually made him feel a little better.

"I need to get up and get dressed," he said, and Safa moved back. He quickly dried himself with another towel. "Am I still radiating heat?"

Safa touched his arm momentarily. "No, you seem to be back to normal. Your color has returned to the golden-brown shade as well. Perhaps a little more gold than before, but the reddish tone is gone."

Joe walked into his room, and Agent White was standing by his bed. He caught her quick glance down before she looked him in the eye. "The General—"

"—wants to debrief me. I was told," Joe interrupted. "Could I get a little privacy so I can get dressed?" he asked. Safa and Agent White left the room, and Joe looked for something to wear. He realized that his wardrobe was quickly diminishing due to the abuse he gave it. He'd have to get himself a new jacket as well. Winter was coming, and he wasn't good in the cold. "Dammit!" he cursed quietly, recalling that he'd need new shoes too. He'd call his old boss, Rene Duval, at St. Germain's Feed and Supply to see if they still had a supply of those black work boots in his size.

He found a pair of worn jeans, a flannel shirt, and some wool socks. He pulled them on and headed downstairs. He stopped by the kitchen and made a quick sandwich, which he wolfed down in no time. Then he tried to call Rene, but the phone had no dial tone on the line. He hung up and thought longingly about his cell.

Joe found his old rubber boots by the back door and his grubby old farm jacket and pulled them on. He went out the back door and saw the backyard was also buzzing with activity. He walked to the front and saw that the General's command center had grown. A couple of trailers had been set up on the wide gravel area at the top of the driveway. One had a series of satellite dishes pointing skywards in various directions. The other was apparently for the General. He approached the uniformed man standing at the foot of the stairs. His insignia wasn't the same as the Marines, so... Army? Joe guessed his current grubby appearance sharply contrasted with how he looked before, as the Soldier showed no recognition.

"Hi, I'm Joe Neumann. The General wanted to see me?"

The man's eyes went wide, and his body went rigid for a few seconds as he processed that the man before him was the fire god they'd all watched take a shower before.

Joe blushed in embarrassment as he watched the recognition play over the man's face. "Can you just let him know I'm here?" Joe said quietly.

"Yes, sir!" the Soldier barked, snapping to attention.

"No, really, not sir. I'm just Joe. Please," he said patiently.

The man nodded and spoke into the mic hooked to his shoulder. Joe heard the send him in over the mic, and the Soldier stepped aside. Joe thanked him, went up the three steps, and entered the trailer.

Inside, he faced two more Soldiers sitting at small desks on either side of a door. One stood up with a metal detector wand, and Joe groaned. The rod screeched and screamed over his body. The inner door opened, and the General looked out to see what that noise was.

"Put that away! Joseph, sorry about that. Come inside, please." he said as he retreated into his office. Joe entered and looked around. It wasn't a lot of space, but it looked much more comfortable than a table on their front lawn. And plenty of displays showing the property and several views of the blast site. He took a chair before the General's desk as the man settled behind it.

"I'm going to record the debriefing. This is standard practice," he said, looking at Joe.

Joe nodded.

"I understand you have never visited this part of your property until today."

"Yeah, my dad told us it was poisoned and warned us to stay away. So, we did," he replied.

"You never snuck away to the field to see if your father was telling the truth?" the General prodded.

"Aside from keeping my encounter with the symbiote a secret, my dad has never lied to me. Why would I have doubted him? And you saw yourself, the field was poisoned. I've never been to the field... until I went with you."

"Okay. We've combined each Marine's camera footage and found something we need help explaining. I've synced up the time codes on these four recordings." The General turned his monitor so Joe could see it. The screen was split into four parts, and each was a view from a different camera. The top two showed what two Marines saw of the two new cylinders coming from the ground. The bottom left window showed a long side-view of Joe standing beside the crippled cylinder. The last one was from the General's perspective behind the hood of the SUV and at Joe's back.

Joe saw the metallic cable shoot out and wrap around his wrist, dragging him forward. In the top views, the two cylinders had cleared the ground and began to move towards the Marines. The green light flashed over Joe's body, and he fell to his knees. The General froze the playback at this point.

"This. We don't know what made you fall at this point," he asked.

"I felt really dizzy after the light passed over me. I could feel it in my bones, like when the portal was open. It just caught me by surprise, and I stumbled." Joe explained.

"So, the light likely wasn't a weapon but some form of scanning technology. We suspected that, and it fits a scenario we've been forming. Now, what it does after it scanned you is more interesting," the General stated before he started the playback again.

Joe heard the cylinder's loud tone and saw how the other two cylinders immediately responded by stopping their attack and moving to where the portal opened instead. The General stopped the playback again.

"So, it scans you and signals the others to open a portal. They were on a direct route to attack the Marines, but a signal from the one that scanned you changed their entire game plan. Any idea why?"

Joe looked blankly at the General. He had no idea what the General was getting at. How would he know that?

The General considered Joe carefully, his eyes piercing and intelligent. Joseph may have a whole host of surprising abilities, but the General didn't believe he'd ever be much of a liar. His face was too transparent, and his body language was too easy to read. The General knew honest bewilderment when he saw it.

"Okay, let me tell you what our brain trust came up with while you were cooling off. Based on the behavior we witnessed, we think they were after you." The General changed his display to show a frozen frame of the open black doorway and a dozen beings carrying silver tubes. "Your father said that twenty-one years ago, these beings crossed through a portal from wherever they come from to experiment on humans. Two died, but they never saw what happened to their third and final experiment because the Sheriff and your dad chased them off. We assume the cost of making that crossing is high based on the infrequency of their visits. If we accept that assumption, it increases the importance of the experiments for those beings. One theory we are leaning towards is that they may have been trying to produce a being like you, a successful merging of the symbiote and a human. They were certainly not looking for a way to destroy us one at a time. If we accept that as fact, then the cylinder that scanned you made it back through the portal with the help of the other two and may have delivered proof that you exist."

"Why?"

"Why what?" the General asked.

"Why did they make me like this? Why do they want me now?" Joe said with frustration.

"Their intent is probably, forgive the pun, alien to us. We may have no way of understanding the purpose behind their actions. We are basing all our assumptions on human reasoning. We may be way off, but to human minds, that's what their current actions appear to mean. They. Want. You."

Joe looked at the metal stuck to his wrist. It was feeling more like a shackle the more he heard.

"What's that?" the General asked.

"It's what's left of the metal rope that cylinder grabbed me with. It melted, and now I can't get it off." Joe complained.

"Have our Engineers take a look. Maybe they can cut it off," he suggested.

"Getting back to aliens, their access technology is destroyed, right? I mean, they can't come back, can they?" Joe asked, suddenly nervous.

"We haven't been able to get too close to the blast site as it's too hot still, but from what we saw in your video and what we see with the zoom lenses, it appears to be a complete wreck. But Agent White is currently compiling a list of possible alternate sites. The gravity anomalies have happened elsewhere to lesser degrees. We will investigate these other sites to ensure they haven't set up the same tech in those locations."

"I guess the cat is out of the bag?" Joe asked.

"Not at all. We've got a cover story for the explosion, and it's already being fed to the press. A Radical Cult set up a base in an unused field and stockpiled military-grade weapons. All without your parent's notice. Joint OP with the FBI and the CIA. Lots of credit to spread around, and the men who died now get recognition for their sacrifice. We came in to capture the baddies, but in a desperate move, they set off their explosives. The public eats this shit up," he said with a grin.

Joe nodded, thinking how much more plausible it sounded than the truth. "But what about my, uh... exposure to everyone when I got back."

"Director Bannon and Agent White are ensuring no images of you were taken. None of the military personnel are permitted to carry personal devices on these missions as they are too big of a security breach." the General explained. "What they saw and what they talk about amongst themselves is fine, but everyone on the military side knows what disclosure outside of the ranks means. Bannon will deal with his people; you can speak with your... people. Now, I have to call the President because he's my people, so if you don't have any further questions...."

Joe shook his head and thanked the General. He left him to make his call.

The front yard was still a beehive, and Joe had no idea where to look for the Engineers to get the damn metal band off. He was tired just watching the activity, so he returned to the house and entered the back door to drop off his boots and jacket. He wandered into the house looking for someone, anyone.

He heard voices downstairs, so he walked down to the games room, where he found Director Bannon, Agent White, Safa, and the four surveillance people. Everyone went quiet as he entered the room, and Joe felt awkward. "Sorry, should I leave so you can finish talking about me?"

Bannon addressed that. "The team has concerns regarding what they should expect to see and do without being brought into the loop."

"That sounds fair," Joe replied. "I've never been a fan of keeping them in the dark."

"We also need to know the level of danger we'll be exposed to because of you. We understand you ran into the blast area and got within a hundred feet of that Hell! We aren't equipped to follow you there. We're surveillance experts. National Security Agents, not superheroes," Agent Salt growled.

"I'm not a superhero!" Joe barked back. "I didn't want any part of this situation or any of this attention! I just wanted to train to be a bodyguard for my sister. I want out of the damn spotlight!"

"Everything you've done has put you in the spotlight! I'm not trained for this kind of duty, and I respectfully request to be reassigned," Salt said, looking at Bannon. He wouldn't face Joe.

Joe's eyes instinctively snapped to black, and he saw the agent flinch and his body tremble. The man was terrified! Joe blinked his eyes back to normal and stepped back unconsciously in shock. The last thing he wanted was to have people afraid of him, especially those he considered friends. A wave of nausea washed over him. He'd never done anything to the man but treat him respectfully, yet the agent was terrified of him.

"Director Bannon, please grant him permission to leave. And to any of the others who feel the same way. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for getting you involved. I wish you the best in your future." With that, Joe turned, quickly went upstairs to his bedroom, and dropped onto the bed. He pulled his blanket over his head and wished with all his heart that none of this had ever happened.

Maybe an hour later, he heard a gentle knock on the door, and it opened.

"Joseph? Honey, are you okay?" said his Mom.

He spoke from under the blanket. "No, Mom. I don't think I'll ever be okay again."

He felt her sit on the edge of his bed and tug the sheet to expose his face. "What happened?" she asked.

"They're terrified of me... because of what I am or what I'm not. People I think of as friends! You can't believe how awful that makes me feel," he groaned.

"Who's terrified?" she asked.

"Agent Salt asked to be reassigned. I could see him twitch and tremble when he saw me. He was terrified, like he thought I was going to kill him."

"Did the others ask to be reassigned?" Clara asked.

"I don't know, maybe. I left so I wouldn't have to hear their fear," he mumbled.

"Joseph, you can't run from this. You need to confront it. Accept that some people won't be able to see the wonderful man behind the amazing things you can do. I'm not saying it will be easy. Some people are just frightened by the unknown. They may react poorly, but that's their issue, not yours." she chided him gently. "Just remember that you have people who love you and know you for who you really are."

Joe sat up and hugged his mom. They sat like that for a few minutes.

"Mom, why doesn't our phone work?" Joe said.

"The General disconnected it as he said it could be used to listen in on us. He said we could use a secure line in the communications trailer if we needed to call someone. You know they will want to listen in and ask all kinds of questions about who you are talking to. I called Amy to let her know we were all okay and the farm is still in one piece. The story about the rebels or radicals or whatever they're saying is all over the news. Doug and Melissa were worried as well. Amy said she tried calling your cell, but someone named Ramone answered. Do you know who that is?"

"Yeah, Officer Ramone of the LAPD. He was one of the officers I helped in that shootout. He picked up my phone and wants me to come get it personally so they can thank me."

"So not everyone is frightened of you?" she teased.

"They don't know what I am!" Joe said, exasperated.

"What do they need to know to know you?" Clara insisted, steel in her voice.

Joe looked at his mom and thought about that. "Who I am. Not what I am," he said quietly.

"See! I didn't raise a simple-headed boy," Clara teased and ruffled his hair.

Clara hugged her son a little longer. "Who did you want to call?" she asked.

"I need to get some new boots, so I was going to call Rene at St. Germain's. They usually have a stock of black work boots in my size. I also need a new jacket since mine burned up. It's too late to call now, so I'll call in the morning. I also need some new clothes, but I can wait until I return to LA. Speaking of LA, have you heard when we'll be able to go back?"

"No, I haven't heard. I'm hoping you stick around for a bit," she said with a grin. Joe's stomach took that moment to agree. They both chuckled. "Come downstairs, and I'll feed your noisy belly."

When the two entered the kitchen, Karl sat at the table with Bannon, Rachel, and Safa. They were all drinking coffee. "Anyone hungry?" Clara asked.

She got grins from everyone, so she and Joe began to prepare a quick meal. Joe made salads and warmed up some pita bread for some hummus his mom picked up in her grocery run. Joe had never had hummus before and snuck a bit on a piece of pita. Clara heated up some casseroles she'd prepared in advance of their visit. The woman loved to cook.

Soon, everyone was crowded around the kitchen table, digging into their meals. There was a knock on the door, and Karl went to answer it. General MacAvoy walked into the room with Karl, who grabbed an extra chair and found a place for it at the table. The General thanked him, and Clara passed him a plate. Seconds later, a forkful of casserole went into his mouth, and he went still with delight. "This is wonderful!"

Joe had finally worked up the nerve to ask Bannon a question. He leaned in to ask quietly. "Director Bannon, how many of the surveillance team are leaving."

Bannon looked at him and read the pain in his eyes. "Just the one. Agent... Max, did you call her? She recommended another agent who, as she put it, has the cojones to work with you. I know the agent she is talking about, and I think you two will get along very well. I can't wait to hear the nickname you'll make for him."

Joe's relief was immense. He still felt bad about the agent. "I don't blame Agent Salt for asking to be reassigned. I can't hold it against him. I'm very sorry it didn't work out, but I could tell he was very... unhappy, which wasn't really under his control. Please don't penalize him for this."

"That's very gracious of you, Joseph." Bannon simply said and returned to his meal, effectively closing the topic.

Joe ate with the others and enjoyed their friendly companionship. He started to feel a little less like an outsider. After they'd had their fill, Joe helped clean up and store the leftovers. Joe was by the sink washing the dishes when the General called out to him.

"Joseph, do you know two women named Rebecca Hunter and Taylor Simmons?"

"Yes, why?" he asked, puzzled that the General would know their names.

"They are at the end of your driveway insisting on seeing you. They heard from someone at the airport that you had returned home, and with all the news stories, they are making a nuisance of themselves, demanding access to you," the General growled.

"I used to date them both—I mean, I dated Rebecca, then Taylor... oh right, I did date them both that one time." Joe confused himself in his embarrassment. General MacAvoy looked at Joe in surprise.

Clara snorted.

"I'd like to go see them. I won't bring them back here. I'll take them dancing," Joe asked.

The General paused and thought about it. "If you go, I want you to bring one of our Soldiers with you,"

"Okay, but he'd better be single, not currently in a relationship, and know how to dance. You don't know Rebecca and Taylor," he grinned at the General's confused expression and dawning comprehension.

"I'll have Sergeant Armstrong meet you by the top of the driveway with a personnel carrier," the General stated.

Joe nodded and went upstairs to put on one of his tailored outfits. Somehow, he'd managed to keep these clothes from being destroyed. The soft grey shirt felt good, and the pants were snug and comfortable. He pulled a few condoms from his backpack and slid them into a pocket, just in case.

He dug into the back of this closet and pulled out his old black leather duster coat. It wasn't that warm, but it was the best he had for tonight. Slipping his dress shoes on, he went outside and found the vehicle parked where the General said it would be. He opened the passenger door and got in. He looked over at the driver and saw his Army insignia.

"Hi, Joe Neumann," He stuck his hand out.

The big man didn't hesitate to grip Joe's hand strongly in a handshake. "Sergeant Craig Armstrong. I understand I may have to dance tonight."

Joe grinned. "It's possible. I have no idea what the ladies have in mind, but they do like to dance."

"Let's not keep them waiting then," Craig said.

It only took a minute to drive down to the foot of the driveway, where a guard gate had been set up. Under the bright white lights, Joe saw the two women standing impatiently. They pulled up to the gate, and Joe got out. He waved at the guard and dipped under the gate only to have the two women jump into his arms and try to smother his face with kisses. He could see they were genuinely concerned for him, which warmed his heart.

"Did you ladies feel like going somewhere to talk? Maybe do a little dancing?" he asked with a smile. They both grinned wickedly. "My friend Craig is my escort for the evening, but I understand that the Sergeant knows his way around a dance floor." Rebecca and Taylor smiled at the man still behind the steering wheel. "Shall we all take a ride in the military personnel carrier?" Joe asked, and they nodded.

The guard raised the gate, and Craig brought the truck out to them. Joe opened the door, helped Taylor in behind Craig, and then walked Rebecca around the back to get to the other side. Halfway around, she grabbed his jacket and pulled him down for a quick kiss. She moaned as the surge splashed across her nerves. Joe pulled back and waved a finger at her with a grin. She smiled wickedly and bit her luscious red lower lip as aftershocks trembled through her body.

Once Joe and Rebecca were in, they were on their way toward town. The dance club in the BigGameZone entertainment complex became a fully licensed adult nightclub after dark. No kids allowed! Joe paid the door charge for the group, and they managed to find a booth near the back. Rebecca pushed Joe into one side of the booth and slid in next to him. Taylor did the same with Craig, whose grin indicated he didn't mind one bit. Joe made the official introductions, and then a young, raven-haired waitress with an impressive array of gothic-themed tattoos and multiple body piercings arrived to take their orders. Black seemed to be her favorite cosmetic color. She kept glancing at Joe while she took everyone's drink order. Joe thought there was something familiar about her. He watched her leave, feeling an inkling of recognition, but before it could blossom, Rebecca took his chin between her slim fingers and turned his face back to hers.

It also became apparent that Taylor had taken a real shine to the Sergeant, and he looked delighted with her as well. They headed out on the dance floor and were soon lost in the mass of bodies.

Rebecca slid closer on the bench to Joe.

"I've missed you, Joe. It's been too long!" the redhead purred at him. She was every bit as gorgeous as she'd been when they'd last dated. Long silky red locks, brilliant blue eyes, slim nose peppered delightfully with freckles, and lips and nails painted with her trademark crimson. Her body was tall and lusciously curved and fit against his so wonderfully as he was rediscovering right that very moment.

Joe knew Rebecca would take him right here at the table and likely get them both banned from the club for life, so he needed to distract her. He really wanted to dance, so he slid his hand down her back and pinned her roughly against his body. He kissed her hard, restraining the surge, and she trembled in his arms. He felt her surrender to his strength as she had the time she'd dragged him into the staff room at the bookstore where she worked. From that time, he knew she secretly craved a dominant partner. While she was swooning, he slid them both from the booth and stood with her, still trapped in his arms against his chest. Joe allowed her to slide down his body so she could stand on her feet. From her widening eyes, he knew she could feel the length of his hard bulge sliding against her. She was panting with need and staring into his eyes as she got her footing.

"First, we dance," Joe growled deeply, sliding his fingers through the thick hair on the back of her head. He took a grip, tilted her head back, and kissed her once again, giving her just the briefest touch of the surge. Her fingers splayed across his chest, and she squealed slightly into his kiss. He released her plump red lips from his kiss, and her eyes were glassy with lust. While it wasn't in his nature to be so aggressive, Joe enjoyed playing the dominant role for Rebecca because she seemed to need it and obviously enjoyed it, and if it made her happy, he was happy.

With a sexy grin, he turned to the dance floor to see their waitress standing in the way with her tray of drinks. The woman's face was red, her mouth was open, and her thin, tight white blouse didn't disguise her excitement... and piercings. "Was she watching us?" he thought, suddenly embarrassed. Joe froze as her eyes went down to his obvious sign of excitement. The tray began to wobble on her wrist, so Joe quickly reached out and stabilized it between his finger and thumb. When she couldn't tear her eyes away, and the tray was at risk of dropping, Joe finally took it from her and placed it on the table behind him.

Rebecca had waited long enough. She pulled Joe by his hand past the interfering waitress onto the dance floor. "Back off, Pam!" she growled territorially on her way by.

The name stuck in Joe's head, but he knew struggling to recall where he'd heard it would make it disappear. Asking Rebecca was out, so he just concentrated on dancing instead. It would come to him.

The beat was pounding, and Joe immediately felt it free his inhibitions. God, he needed this! He started to move with it, and he kept his eyes on Rebecca. She reveled in his attention, and her moves became increasingly suggestive, never overt but always teasingly sensual. Joe enjoyed the show, but seriously, he was more interested in dancing. He needed to burn off some tension, and while Rebecca was damn sexy, that's all she was to him. They really had no other connection, and she really didn't care. Even though she didn't, he still had lingering guilt for their mutual use of each other. It also didn't give him any real satisfaction. He tried to put that aside and let the music and motion distract his mind from all the crazy stuff he'd had to deal with in the past few days.

Joe felt himself being watched and glanced over to see it was his Soldier escort checking in. He nodded to the man, who grinned and nodded in return. It was probably the best duty he'd ever been assigned. Joe saw Taylor moving to the beat, in a world of her own, rubbing up against the big Sergeant and loving it. Craig obviously did, too. Joe felt himself smiling at how quickly they'd clicked. Taylor was the more reserved and level-headed of the two women he'd dated. For her to connect this early meant good things.

He looked back to Rebecca, who had sensed his inattention, slipped right up against his body, and was grinding his pelvis with her own as they swayed to the beat. That felt wonderful, and her eyes closed with the sensation.

He still felt like he was being watched, so he glanced around again. Blue eyes framed by long, glossy black hair locked on his from beside the bar. Blue eyes. Straight, raven hair. Pam. Little Pam. Elizabeth's younger sister! The first girl he'd asked out and had gone to prom with, the first girl who'd captured his heart, the first girl whose heart he'd broken, the first girl to break his heart in return. It all came rushing back as he looked into blue eyes so much like her sister's. He was reminded of what he'd been missing for all these years. What he was missing tonight.

The recollection broke Joe's connection to the music, and Rebecca noticed immediately. She looked up and saw the lost look on Joe's face. She saw her night of raw ecstasy slipping away, which pissed her off. She followed Joe's gaze and saw Pam standing in the shadows by the bar. She immediately stalked directly toward the little bitch. Pam noticed her coming and tried to find an escape route, but the crowd by the bar was too heavy. She looked up in fear as Rebecca stopped directly in front of her.

"Did you not hear my earlier warning bitch!" she said and pushed Pam hard against the wall. "I said keep your eyes off my man!" She reached back to give her a slap, but her hand was locked in place as Joe grabbed her wrist.

"What the hell are you doing?" Joe barked.

Rebecca's eyes flared as she spun to face Joe. "You're mine tonight! This bitch needs to learn that!" Her dominant side was back in full swing.

Joe's eyes flickered to black and back instantly as he throttled his rage, and he instinctively let go of her wrist.

Once, he might have been intimidated by her aggressive sexuality. But he wasn't that person anymore; tonight, he'd reached his limit. Their use of each other was over. He hadn't seen this side of Rebecca, and what little desire he had for her snuffed out in an instant. She saw it in his eyes, and her face fell.

"No, Joe, please. Please, you can't do this. Not over her!" Rebecca said desperately.

"This has nothing to do with her. It's just taken me this long to finally acknowledge that what we have isn't good for either of us."

"Isn't good?!? It's the best fucking thing this shithole of a town has to offer!" Rebecca raged. Joe stepped back as if he'd been slapped, his expression frozen.

"Please, Joe! I need this!" Rebecca lunged and grabbed his shirt, pressing herself against his body. She was still beautiful and desirable, but Joe felt guilty that he'd allowed this to go on as long as it had.

"No. It's over. I'm sorry." Joe felt deeply ashamed of himself. He'd been so desperate for a human connection that he'd let that override his judgment.

Rebecca looked up at his face and saw he meant it. The only pleasure she'd found while trapped in this town was being denied to her forever. Her rage exploded, and she turned on Pam, still leaning against the wall where she'd been pushed. Rebecca's crimson nails spread like bloody claws as she reached for the woman's face.

Joe grabbed Rebecca and held her against his chest as Pam dropped to the floor and cowered to avoid her attack. Rebecca thrashed like a wild woman, and the crowd gathered to watch doubled in size as her screams of rage drew them in. Joe was worried she was having a psychotic break. While he had no trouble holding her, and the witnesses could tell he was doing it for her safety, he started to worry that she wasn't calming down. If anything, she was getting worse. Joe looked around and saw Craig and Taylor standing at the crowd's edge. The Soldier's face was completely smudged with lipstick, and Taylor's mouth no longer had any. The man was looking at Joe as if asking what to do.

He knew what he had to do. "Call an ambulance," Joe said grimly. The Sergeant immediately dialed.

Joe spun Rebecca in his arms until she was facing him. He grabbed the hair on the back of her head, and she froze mid-scream and went silent. The crowd did as well. Her eyes were wild and desperate.

"Goodbye, Rebecca," he said and kissed her deeply.

Joe held nothing back. The surge crashed through her nerves, and she clung to him, forcing her tongue deep into his mouth to tangle with his. She moaned and clawed at him, thrashed, and finally went still.

The crowd remained silent as he moved her up into his arms and walked out of the club with her. He found an open bench against the wall by the entrance where it was quieter and laid her out to rest until the ambulance arrived. Joe sat beside her on the bench and put his head in his hands.

As he sat looking at the floor, he saw small black army boots approach and stop in front of him. He knew these small feet didn't belong to Craig. He looked up and saw Pam standing in front of him. She had tears in her eyes, and her black eye makeup was starting to run down the pale flesh of her cheeks. Joe pulled a tissue from his pocket and handed it to her. "Hi, Pam," he said quietly.

"Do you remember me?" she asked carefully.

"Yes, I've met you a number of times, and we were only a year apart in school, though I don't think we've ever said more than hello to each other."

"Well, you were in love with my sister," Pam said softly.

"Yeah... I was. Is she doing okay?" he asked.

"She married a real mean prick two years ago and now has twin girls. She lives in New York, so we only see her every second Thanksgiving and Christmas." Pam said.

"How are you doing? This is a new look for you." Joe said with a smile.

Pam looked at him, her big blue eyes filled with sadness. "I'm angry. All the time. Sometimes, getting a tattoo or a piercing helps. The pain clears my head. Gives me clarity. For a little while at least."

Craig and Taylor entered the hallway and sat a short distance from them. Pam looked at the sleeping form next to Joe. "What did you do to her?"

Joe looked down and felt his own eyes tearing up. "I don't know. Something bad, maybe."

Taylor rose to her feet and knelt before him, taking his hands in hers. "Joe, this wasn't your fault. Rebecca has been getting more and more edgy in the past few months. You know she's always been wild. Now, she's unpredictable, too. She'd had a rough time with her parents. They threw her out of the house, but she wouldn't tell me why. She has a small apartment here in town now. She was almost frantic about seeing you when we heard you were back in town. I didn't think about how she behaved when I agreed to drive her to your place. I didn't know it was this bad."

"I think Doc Watson needs to examine her. Then maybe she should get some help at the psych hospital," Joe said.

"Joe, she can't afford that," Taylor whispered.

Joe's eyes went hard. "I'll pay for it. I got a new job which pays well. I'll get it arranged."

Taylor nodded to Joe and went back to Dan. Pam sank to the bench next to Joe. "Are you here to save us all, Joe?"

"What?" he said sharply.

"When I was in the psych ward after my breakdown, the doctor told me I keep too much bottled up. I have to let things out. I'm going to do that now, okay? If you listen, that will be you saving me. You don't need to do anything or say anything. Just listen." Joe didn't know where she was going with this, but he nodded.

"You probably don't remember this, but I've always been shy. Cripplingly shy. When we were in school together, I was secretly in love with you. I was for as long as I can remember. At home, I lived in Elizabeth's shadow. She got all our parent's attention. She did everything right, and nothing I did mattered. When I was fifteen, my sister got to go to your sixteenth birthday party, and I desperately wanted to go too, but I suffered in silence as I was too chickenshit to speak to you. I started reading my sister's diary to get closer to you. The entry for when she visited you in the hospital turned my world upside down, and for the longest time, I hated you with all my heart. Then, years later, I read that she had made it all up in her head. God, how I hated her then. In the middle of that hate, I found out she was going to prom with you. I read in her diary what Rebecca and Taylor did with you that night and how they described it. My sister was so jealous that the others had felt what she had, so she immediately dropped you. For the first time in my life, I had... strong words with her about that, and that was the last time we spoke.

None of this is your fault; you are not responsible for my happiness. I am. I'm just grateful for this opportunity to say now what I couldn't say then."

Joe looked at her carefully. Measured what he saw against his recollections of her sister.

"Geezus, I was mooning over the wrong sister," he smiled gently, shaking his head.

"Yeah, life's a bitch, isn't it?" Pam smiled and stood up, putting her hands on her hips. "Maybe next time you come to town, you give me a call, and we can talk about old times again."

"I'd really like that. I don't have my cell with me. Can you write your number down for me?"

Pam pulled a small business card from her pocket. She wrote another number on its back. "Personal line."

"See ya, big man." Pam grinned, obviously feeling better for having unburdened herself.

The ambulance arrived, and the paramedics pushed a stretcher in. Joe lifted Rebecca onto the surface and gave them the details of what had happened, leaving out the kiss. He asked them to call Doc Watson. Taylor and Craig walked her out to the ambulance then Joe joined them outside. Craig suggested they call it a night, so they drove Taylor back to her car, which was parked outside the gate at Joe's. He got out and walked up the lane, leaving Craig to say his goodbyes to Taylor privately. People were still moving about with purpose when he reached the yard, which surprised Joe, considering the late hour. He nodded to a few he recognized. He walked up to the house and went inside.

The kitchen light was still on, so he poked his head in to see who was burning the midnight oil. It was Safa who had a laptop open and papers scattered across the table. Joe couldn't make heads or tails of it, so he gave up.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Joseph! How did your date go?" Safa asked with genuine interest.

"It went much better for Sergeant Armstrong than for me," Joe said, a note of sadness still in his voice.

"You didn't get any action?" Safa asked.

Joe snorted and looked at the woman. "Get any action? Sorry, that sounds weird when you say it."

"I don't know the words men use when they speak of their conquests," she replied straight-faced.

"Ugh! Please stop." Joe grimaced.

He walked over to the cupboard, pulled out a bag of cookies, and poured a glass of milk. He offered one to Safa, but she shook her head and pointed to her cup of tea.

She moved some of her papers, and Joe put the cookies and milk on the table and pulled a chair out across from her.

After munching down a cookie and chasing it with milk, Joe looked at Safa and answered her question.

"Rebecca is a beautiful, sexy woman who craves action above all else, so that wasn't the problem. She and I have been enjoying each other for a long time, but there is nothing between us other than that. I don't even think we like each other that much. We went to a dance club, and while we were there, I saw the younger sister of my first love, and she now looks very much like her sister. It brought back all the memories of what it had been like to be in love. I didn't realize just how much I missed that. How much I need it. I realized that I couldn't continue seeing Rebecca. When I told her, she tried to attack the woman. I stopped her, but I think she had a psychotic break. She flew into a rage, and it kept getting worse. Finally, I had to knock her out."

"You hit her?" Safa was shocked.

"What? No! I didn't hit her! I kissed her," Joe growled.

Safa sat there, trying to comprehend what Joe just said. Her puzzlement showed on her face.

"Didn't I tell you already? It feels like I've told everyone!" he growled.

"Ah! The cattle prod!" Her eyes lit up as she recalled their conversation on the plane.

"Yes! Exactly!" Joe sighed with relief. He was really tired of explaining this. "I'm worried that I've done some damage to Rebecca with her exposure to the surge. She's experienced it more than anyone. Dozens of times. What if it caused her personality change? Taylor said she was already temperamental, but what if the surge somehow damaged her mind?"

"Has anyone else experienced it as frequently?" Safa asked.

"No, but Taylor is pretty close," Joe answered.

"Has Taylor exhibited any similar signs?" she asked.

"Uh, not that I could tell. Not really. No," Joe begrudgingly answered.

"Then maybe Taylor's assessment is more accurate. You can ask that she be examined, but don't be surprised that it wasn't your doing."

Joe frowned, munched some more cookies, and drank his milk.

"Can I see your tongue again?" Safa asked, breaking the silence.

Joe looked up in surprise. "Okay, but no touching it," he warned.

He stuck his tongue out and dropped it down his chin. Safa leaned forward and examined the lines.

"Remarkable! Perhaps their functionality is linked to your unique reproductive system. Maybe the stimulus from your tongue triggers a response in a similarly enhanced female to spur the release of sperm to fertilize your eggs!" Safa gushed.

Joe glared at her. She might like this biology lesson stuff, but when he was the subject, it made him queasy.

"Sorry," she said contritely. She noticed that Joe was just laying his tongue flat. "Can you point your tongue?"

Joe stretched his tongue to a point extending two inches past his chin. Safa's eyebrows went up. "That's... exceptional! Can you roll your tongue?"

Joe sucked his tongue back into his mouth so he could talk. "Roll it?"

Safa demonstrated making her tongue into a tube. "Apparently, a percentage of the population cannot do that," Safa said.

Joe tried to roll his tongue but couldn't make it curve up on both sides. He gestured excitedly when he thought he got it, but Safa shook her head though her eyes widened. Joe had managed to twist the tip of his tongue completely around three-hundred and sixty degrees. She didn't think that was possible with a strictly human tongue.

"Okay, so you're in the percentage that can't," Safa indicated. Joe shrugged and ate another cookie.

"So, what happens when someone touches it?" Safa asked.

The image of Amy popped unwelcome in his mind, and he frowned at the painful memory.

"It's... intimate, like a linking of the nervous systems. I feel what they feel, and they feel what I feel, and we both feel one hell of a lot of pleasure. It's not something I like to do with someone I don't feel really comfortable with or who isn't willing. Then, it feels like a complete invasion of their personal space and privacy. It... it's like rape. It's truly awful. Can we change the subject?" Joe was feeling really uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad," she apologized.

"It's okay. I should go to bed anyway. Any idea when we're heading back to LA? I'd like to see how my sister is doing."

"Agent White was working with the General to pinpoint the most likely alternate portal sites. So, I think either tomorrow or the day after," she replied.

Joe walked over to the sink and washed his glass. He put it away and put the cookies back in the cupboard. He bid Safa goodnight, then went up to his bedroom. As he got undressed, he realized that his new grey shirt had tears on his back from Rebecca's fingernails. Damn.

He dropped onto his bed with the card Pam gave him. He thought about her confession and lost opportunities of the past. He wondered what had happened in Pam's life in the past four years, making her who she is today. So radically different from the shy young woman he remembered. He was pretty sure she wasn't still in love with him. She'd apparently been through a lot, and she was still dealing with it. Joe didn't want to add any grief to that young woman's life. Everything about his life seemed to add problems to someone else's. But he'd promised to call, so call he would.

As he sat there thinking over the evening and picking out everything he'd done wrong, he recalled the moment when he'd turned around to see Pam standing there, watching him dominate Rebecca. She'd clearly been excited, but Joe wasn't looking for a replacement for Rebecca. He needed something more.

Pam, being Elizabeth's sister, immediately added complications.

His mind raced in circles between his longing for someone to love and his depressed acknowledgment that what he had to offer wasn't what most, if any, wanted in a relationship. It was hours before he fell asleep.

Chapter 25

The next morning, Joe dragged himself out of bed feeling exhausted. Worse, he felt stiff and flabby. He needed to work out. He looked at his free weights and realized he'd outgrown them. He needed heavier weights and wanted one of those home gyms like Doug had, only with twice the weight in the stack. If the General or Director Bannon had nothing for him to do today, he decided he'd stop by the town fitness club and buy a day pass to get a workout in. He also wanted to shop for gym equipment like the functional trainer he'd used at Doug's condo. There was a store in town that specialized in fitness stuff. He needed to visit the hospital and check in with Doc Watson to see if he'd examined Rebecca. He also needed to visit St. Germain's to get the boots and jacket and touch base with Rene. That was a lot of stuff to fit into his day.

But before all of that, there was breakfast!

Joe walked into the kitchen and saw his parents were just finishing up. Joe started to prepare himself some food, but Clara pushed him over to the table with a smile and said she would make him something. Joe sat next to his dad, and they said their good mornings.

"How was your date last night?" Karl asked.

"Not too good. Rebecca had a mental breakdown, and I had to send her to the hospital. I asked them to contact Doc Watson. I think she's going to need some psychiatric care."

"What happened?" Clara asked from the counter.

"We were dancing, and I saw Elizabeth's younger sister Pam, and the memories that brought up made me realize my relationship with Rebecca wasn't healthy for either of us. I need... an emotional connection. Rebecca doesn't make emotional connections. When I told her I couldn't see her anymore, she flew into a violent rage and tried attacking Pam. I had no choice but to... kiss her unconscious," Joe explained.

"I'm so sorry, Joe," Clara said, bringing him a plate piled high with eggs, hash browns, sausages, bacon, and toast.

"Thanks, Mom! If I'm not needed here today, I want to check on her with Doc Watson and run some errands."

"Roger said he wanted to see you after breakfast but didn't tell me what for. He's working in his guest room upstairs," Clara mentioned.

Joe nodded and then tucked into his meal.

-=-

Bannon was concentrating on writing his report for his boss. He knew this would go from Hillary to Frank, so he did his best to ensure it sounded as factual and dry as possible. Trying to eliminate or at least downplay the fantastic elements without making it sound like he was hiding something was excruciatingly difficult. Quite frankly, it was giving him a headache. His head spinning, he decided to take some aspirin he'd left in his kit in the bathroom.

He forgot to knock when he entered the bathroom he shared with Agent White.

She must have just stepped from the shower as her hair was wrapped in a towel, and a second one was loosely wrapped around her body. She was facing the mirror, applying something to her lips. She looked over her shoulder at Roger when he burst into the room.

"Oh, God! I'm sorry! I should have knocked!" he gasped.

Rachel continued to look at him and noticed he hadn't moved. A smile slid across her lips as she watched the crimson spread across his face. Still, he remained in the doorway, frozen, eyes drinking in the pale, smooth skin of her back, bottom, and legs. She cautiously turned towards him, taking it slow so he wouldn't bolt. She stepped closer, then let her towel drop. She heard him gasp as her full breasts came into view and saw his eyes traveling down her body. She took another step, then another, until she stood directly before the man she had fallen head over heels for. She reached up, took his strong chin between her finger and thumb, and tilted his mouth to meet hers as she leaned in for a kiss.

The first kiss was tentative. Her lips pressed against his gently, and she felt him holding himself back with all his might. She leaned in for a second kiss and slid her lower lip across his in a gentle caress and felt him sucking her lip between his. The smallest smile caught the corners of her mouth as she felt him taking the initiative.

It was her turn to gasp as she felt his strong hands slide across her back, pulling her to him, and he kissed her more passionately. The tip of his tongue caressed her lips, and she brought her tongue into play to slide against his. Soon, they were clutching at each other and breathing heavily, their kisses deep and touches bold.

A minute later, she was about to start tearing his clothes off when there was a knock on his door. They froze. The knock came again, and they heard Joseph calling out for Bannon.

"Just a minute!" Roger called out. He looked back at Rachel with a stricken look, suddenly realizing his professional breach of conduct.

Rachel gripped his shoulders and looked him in the eye. "No!" she whispered to him. "We will not feel guilty about this. I want it. You want it. We will be discreet, and we will be professional." When he looked her in the eye and calmed, she gave him one more quick kiss, then pushed him out of the bathroom and closed the door. Roger straightened his clothes and walked over to open the bedroom door. Joseph was outside, leaning on the wall, waiting.

"Yes?"

"Uh... Mom said you wanted to see me?" Joe seemed to be a bit distracted.

Bannon wracked his brain to recall why he had wanted to see the young man. He certainly wished he hadn't asked Clara to send him up. Ah! The phone!

"Oh, right! Come in!" Roger returned to his desk and pulled a sleek new smartphone from his briefcase. "I got you a new phone until you can get yours back, and maybe you'd consider keeping the new one instead. Has the General spoken with you regarding our theory that the aliens may have been targeting you?" Joe nodded. "Good. Considering our theory, the new phone has a few features that may be critically important. It maintains a global position marker, so we can find you anytime. I know this seems like an invasion of privacy, but think of it this way: We won't act on your position, but we will always maintain an extraction team within a reasonable distance to get to you quickly should you signal it's required. To send that signal, press the first three numbers on the screen simultaneously, then press the dial button. Or break the screen. As a failsafe, it calls for help when it's broken. So be careful with it. Other than that, it's just a smartphone. We will pick up the tab for the services you use. Yes, we will monitor them, but we do that already. Again, we won't act on anything we see there unless you specifically request it." He handed the phone to Joe, who took one look at the touchscreen interface and the lack of buttons and handed it back.

"Sorry, but I burn out touchscreens. That's why my old phone has a keypad and a trackball," he said.

"We know. That's why this one is tuned for you. We dialed down the sensitivity of the capacitive screen and added a bypass if the charge on the screen goes above a safe level. If it trips, the phone shuts down momentarily. Just ground yourself, turn the phone on, and try again. The screen also drains off excess charge and trickles it into the battery. I assume you'll never need to recharge the phone after normal use." He handed it back to Joe.

Joe flipped through the menus and appreciated the larger screen, as his fingers always had difficulty with the tiny keyboard. "Hey! This is pretty sweet! Thanks! I'll have to discuss it with Christof, but I don't see any problems."

"Great!" Bannon said.

"Are you going to need me for anything today?" Joe asked.

"No, I don't believe so," he said.

"Good, I have a bunch of errands to run today. Thanks for the phone!" Joe made his way back to the door. "Oh, and sorry about the interruption."

"What?" Bannon froze.

Joe tapped a finger to his lips as he looked over his shoulder at Bannon. "See you later!" he said as he left.

Bannon walked over to the dresser and looked in the mirror. His lips were still a little puffy from kissing Rachel, but more damning were the traces of the lip balm she'd been wearing. He sighed and wiped it off with a tissue from a box on the dresser. He heard a knock on the door jamb and looked to see Rachel smiling at him from the bathroom doorway. She was fully dressed now but just as beautiful. He smiled back.

"We'll be discreet, she says, and then she leaves me with her lip balm on my lips," he groaned.

She gave him that dazzling smile he'd come to crave, and he knew he was doomed.

But he smiled anyway.

-=-

Joe paused on his way to see the General to take some pictures of his house. Reviewing the shots, he saw the camera on the new phone was way better than his old one.

He made his way to the General's trailer, hoping to be given the go-ahead to have the day to himself. The same Soldier he'd met the day before was guarding the bottom step.

"Hi, I'd like to speak with the General," he said to the man.

The Soldier passed along his request and stepped aside when confirmation came through.

Joe entered the trailer and saw the two secretaries. One was standing and turned to address him.

"I'm sorry, but the General is in a meeting. Is there something I can help you with?" the man asked.

"Oh, uh, maybe. I was wondering if the General would need me for anything today." Joe replied.

The man turned to review something on his monitor and touched a few keys. "I don't see anything on his calendar indicating your name, so it doesn't look like it. Can he reach you if something comes up?"

"Yeah, Director Bannon gave me a new cell, so he can call that," Joe started to take the phone out, but the man interrupted.

"No need, sir, we have the number for that phone," he said and smiled.

"Oh, okay. Well, I'll be on my way then," Joe said, feeling just a little uneasy. He was beginning to wonder how good an idea it was to carry the NSA phone.

"The General did ask that if you are going to leave the property, you should take an escort. I believe Sergeant Armstrong has been assigned that duty and is on standby," the secretary said, looking at his screen.

Joe thought about insisting he go alone, but he liked Craig, and since he no longer had his own truck, he didn't want to inconvenience his dad by borrowing his.

"Sure."

"I'll contact the Sergeant and have him meet you at the top of the driveway."

Joe got the distinct impression that he was dismissed, so he turned and left the trailer. Walking to the top of the driveway, he noticed it was getting cold outside. He really needed to get a warmer jacket, as his duster just wasn't keeping him warm. He didn't cope with the cold very well.

The big truck arrived moments later, a grinning Sergeant Armstrong at the wheel.

"Good morning, Sergeant!" Joe called out.

"Please, call me Craig! The man who introduced me to such a gorgeous woman deserves that much, at least!" Craig's grin grew bigger.

"Then you have to call me Joe."

"Do we have a plan for today, Joe?"

"Yes, we do. Several stops and, if we're lucky, maybe lunch with a certain woman." Joe replied.

Craig's grin threatened to harm his face, so he quickly put the truck in gear, and they were off.

Doc Watson was eager to meet with him when they reached the hospital, and they spoke for an hour just about questions the doctor had through the years he took care of Joe. He answered the doctor as best he could and finally had to direct the conversation to Rebecca. Joe explained why she was still asleep, showed the doctor his tongue, after warning the man not to touch it, described its effect, and outlined his concern of being the cause of Rebecca's current mental state. Doc Watson listened carefully and repeated what Safa had said to him the previous night. He did promise to run some tests to see if there were any chemical imbalances. He suggested a study he could do with Joe and some volunteers to track any changes in them between exposures. Much to the doctor's disappointment, Joe had to say no.

With a promise to keep in touch when he could, Joe left with Craig. They headed over to St. Germain's Feed and Supply. Rene was in her usual position but looking a little frazzled. When she saw Joe come in, her face lit up like the gates of heaven had delivered her an angel to take her away from the madness.

"Joe! Please tell me you've returned to take your old job back!" she begged.

Joe grinned and leaned across the desk to give her a big hug. "Sorry, no. What's the issue?"

"We got two shipments in at the same time yesterday, and both of my stock room clerks called in sick. The stock is piled up in the loading area. We have another shipment coming in today. There is nowhere to put it, and they called in sick again. I've been on the phone all day trying to reschedule the shipment, which they won't do, and trying to find someone to come in to move the inventory, which I can't."

"Two shipments? Piece of cake! I can take care of that for you. Almost twice as fast if I can convince Craig here to prove Army Sergeants are as strong as they're reputed to be." Joe teased.

"Bring it on!" Craig boasted with a grin.

Rene looked delighted, but she put on a stern expression. "Ground rules for the competition. No inventory must be damaged, so Craig will use the dolly and flatbed as required. Joe is only allowed to use his body.

Craig laughed at this unexpected turn in his favor. He set off for the loading area and missed the grin Rene and Joe shared.

Two hours later, the Sergeant was slumped back in a chair in the now empty loading area, gasping for breath, sides heaving, and muscles trembling. His shirt was drenched with sweat, and he was mopping his forehead with a towel Joe gave him. Joe was finishing up the last parts of Craig's order. When he got back, the man stared at him in dismay. Joe hadn't broken a sweat. Rene stood next to Joe with arms crossed and a grin on her face. In her hand was a package of black T-shirts, which she tossed to Craig.

"You can get cleaned up in the locker room, and the shirts are on the house for working so hard," she said. Craig groaned as he climbed to his feet and shuffled into the next room.

Rene turned to Joe and handed him a pair of black work boots. "I imagine your big feet have worn through your boots by now?"

"Wow! How did you guess?" he grinned, looking down at his rubber boots.

"I'm smart that way," she grinned back. "Seriously though, it's the least I can do for your help. When that shipment comes in today, they can dump it here, and I won't have another one coming in for a week. Anything else you need?"

"I do need a winter jacket, but I insist on paying for that!" Joe said.

"That's one of the items that's supposed to come in the next shipment. They're really late this year." Rene complained. "Seriously though, how are you doing? I heard about Rebecca."

Joe wasn't surprised as Rene was one of the most connected people in town and had many contacts at the hospital. "I checked on her this morning. Doc Watson is looking into her condition."

"I asked how you were." Rene pushed.

"Oh." Joe hesitated. Before his parents told him about his origin, he had confided in Rene continuously. She had been an incredible help, and he owed her so much. But now that his situation had gotten complicated, he knew he couldn't confide in her anymore. It just wasn't safe for her to know. That said, he wasn't about to lie to her.

"I've been better. I broke up with Rebecca because a physical relationship without some kind of emotional bond felt wrong. I knew it wasn't what I wanted, but I went along because Rebecca was so bloody aggressive, and it was fun from time to time. But it was so empty. I felt worse after each date. Seeing Pam last night at the club reminded me of Elizabeth and what I felt when I was with her. It wasn't long, but there was something between us besides the physical attraction. Or at least I thought there was. It seems that might have been more one-sided than I thought." Joe said softly.

"Pam is a troubled girl," Rene noted. "She has a lot of emotional pain, but I don't know where it came from. I'm not sure if she'd be capable of a balanced relationship if you were considering that."

Joe recalled Pam's confession and wasn't sure if he should share that with Rene. He opted for discretion. He could always suggest to Pam that Rene was a great listener.

"Yeah, there's also the fact that I was attracted to her sister, who looks a lot like her. That's a lot of baggage to bring into a relationship. I'd like to be her friend, though. I get the feeling she could use one," he said.

"Just be clear on her expectations," Rene suggested, and Joe nodded.

"Thanks for the boots," he said as he pulled her in for a big hug.

"Don't be silly. That was a cheap payment for the work you did. It still amazes me how strong you are," she said as she grinned up at him. Joe shrugged and smiled back. What could he say?

Craig came back into the loading bay. "Did you manage to work up an appetite?" Joe teased the man and received a mock scowl. "We can call Taylor and see if she's available to join us." That got a smile on the Sergeant's face.

"Do you want to join us?" Joe asked Rene.

"Unfortunately, I can't. Enjoy yourselves, though. It was great seeing you again, and it was nice meeting you, Craig."

"Aside from feeling like I was somehow bamboozled, it was a delight to meet you as well," Craig said to Rene with a smile.

"Wait! Craig, take a picture of me and Rene with my fancy new phone!" He handed the phone to the man and swooped in next to Rene.

"You know, people take their own pictures these days. They're called selfies for a reason," Craig said with a grin as he took a picture of the smiling friends. Before they left, Joe gave Rene a quick kiss on the cheek, and Craig got a shot of that as well.

They reached the restaurant after Joe made a couple of calls. Taylor was waiting for them when they arrived, and as they had prearranged, she and Craig went ahead to have lunch together. Joe took a booth against the wall and waited for his guest to arrive. Fifteen minutes later, Pam walked in the door and looked around. Joe held up his hand and caught her attention. She slid into the booth across from him with an odd look in her eye.

"I wasn't expecting to hear back from you so soon. Or at all, actually," she said hesitantly.

"Sorry, it's just that I'm expecting to leave for California in the next day or so, and I don't know when I'll be getting back. I got a new phone, and I wanted to give you the number so, you know, we could keep in touch," Joe babbled nervously.

"Wow, I thought I was the basket case. What's up with you?" Pam asked.

Joe took a deep breath and tried to relax. "Sorry, I feel like I'm back in high school. You weren't the only one who was shy back then. It's only been in recent years that I've been able to talk with a pretty girl without either freezing up or babbling incoherently. Looks like I still have a ways to go."

Pam's face went blank. "Okay. You have to cut the pretty girl shit."

"What?" Joe blinked.

"I'm not a pretty girl, so keep that crap for someone who wants to hear it," Pam said, prickling at the compliment.

Joe was completely thrown and was unsure where to go from here. He didn't want to spook her into leaving. "I'm sorry. I meant no offense. Can we start over?"

Pam sat frozen, on the edge of leaving. "Huh, start over. You don't know how many times I've wished the same thing. But it can't happen."

"You're right. What's done is behind us. There is only forward. But a new beginning can simply be lunch. Then, we see where it takes us. Tiny steps." Joe said gently. He saw Pam relax a little. "I'm famished. I may get two meals. Lunch is my treat, so feel free to indulge."

Pam picked up the menu, and Joe allowed himself to relax a little. The waitress arrived, and Joe ordered the burger and the chili. Pam looked at Joe and asked for the same. Joe's eyebrows went up, but he didn't question her. Joe kept the talk light and struggled to keep from babbling. He didn't know why he had so much trouble talking with Pam.

"So, you're going to California. LA?" Pam finally asked a question.

"Yes, my sister is there auditioning for a role in a movie, and I'm going there to train to be a bodyguard," he answered.

"A bodyguard for her?" she asked.

"Yes. Initially a least," he said.

"You don't think that's a little repetitive? Isn't that what you've been doing all your life? Don't you think it might be time to get on with your own life?" Pam said with more than a little venom.

Joe reigned in his gut reaction to go on the offensive. Instead, he leaned back against the booth seat and cautiously examined the woman across from him.

"You did mention last night that you're angry all the time. Is this an example?" Joe asked softly.

Brilliant blue eyes looked back at him from below her bangs, and he saw anger, pain, and need in them. She nodded almost imperceptibly.

"I'll answer your question if you tell me what you want most in the world right now," he said.

"I want to cut you so you'll stop looking so fucking perfect. And I want you to punish me for cutting you," Pam blurted between her clenched teeth. Her eyes had never left his.

The violence in her answer hit Joe by surprise, and his eyes flicked to black until he got control and blinked them back to normal.

Pam was frozen. She was looking right at his eyes when they suddenly transformed into dark pits of cold rage that sucked her anger away like a wisp of smoke in a tornado and left in its place fear. She trembled as she looked into Joe's warm brown eyes. Suddenly, she recalled how Joe had grabbed Rebecca in the booth at the club. She watched him lift her like she weighed nothing and then rub her against his hard body. Pam almost came when he grabbed Rebecca's hair and kissed her roughly. God, she wanted that!

"Crap! Pam saw my eyes!" Joe thought. He kept watching her to see what she would do next. Her hands slipped into her lap, her blue eyes became glassy, and her breathing shallow. "Crap!" he thought.

"Stop!" he growled when he realized what she was doing in the restaurant. Pam froze again, only this time, the need in her eyes was primal. He couldn't leave her like this. He fought back his embarrassment and put a stern look on his face.

"Go finish in one of the bathroom stalls, wash your hands, and return quickly," he growled.

Pam slipped out of the booth and scurried off to the washroom.

Joe put his head in his hands. He royally fucked up this time. Pam already had emotional issues, and now she'd been exposed to something she couldn't possibly understand. She was acting like Rebecca.

He heard approaching footsteps and looked up to see the waitress bringing over a full tray. She placed the plates on the table and slipped away with a smile back at him.

Moments later, Pam returned to the table and sat across from him. Her eyes were large and troubled.

"Pam, tell me what you saw," Joe said. If he could hear how she interpreted what she'd seen, maybe he could explain it away.

"Your eyes. When I said those things, your eyes went so cold and black I could feel your rage radiating. My anger felt like nothing compared to that. You're not the same person who I went to school with."

Joe twitched at her words but maintained his control. "We all changed. You went from shy to angry. Where did that anger come from?" Joe asked.

"Parents. For treating me like I didn't matter for most of my life. Myself, for letting that happen. Where did your rage come from?" Pam asked quietly.

Joe thought about it. He didn't recall feeling that emotion when his eyes changed. But it wasn't the first time someone told him this. He certainly felt more aggressive when it happened, but rage? He really had to look at himself in the mirror and see what others saw.

"I don't know," was what he came up with. "Pam, are you going to be all right?"

"I don't know, are you?" she whispered, staring into his eyes.

Joe wasn't sure what to say to that. He looked down and saw their meals waiting. "Let's eat."

They both ate in silence, occasionally looking at each other, trying to find an answer to that question.

When Joe was finished, he noticed that Pam had only eaten half of her burger and hadn't touched the rest of her food. "I'll take it to go," she said when she noticed him looking. Joe signaled the waitress and asked for the check and some to-go containers.

"It's important to me to know that you'll be okay. You're important to me." Joe finally said into the silence. Pam trembled a little when he said that, and she frowned.

"I'm not importa—" she began.

"Stop!" Joe growled quietly, allowing his eyes to flick to black. "Listen carefully. You are important. Say it." Joe pinned the girl to the seat with his glare.

Pam was frozen in place. His eyes filled her vision, and her mouth went dry. "I'm important."

Joe slid over on his bench. "Come here."

Pam immediately slid out of her side and in beside Joe. He blinked his eyes back to normal and hugged her, crushing her gently against his chest. He felt her trembling, resisting, but he kept up the pressure until he felt her relax and start returning the hug. The waitress chose that moment to arrive with the bill and boxes, and Joe felt Pam begin to resist again, to pull away. Joe snuggled her more tightly against his chest and rested his chin on her head. He nodded to the waitress, and she left.

"I tell myself this little mantra, and you will too. I am important. I am valued. I deserve love. I need you to know that I consider you important and valued. I want you in my life. We start with this lunch as our new beginning. The past is full of missed opportunities, but none of that matters. What matters is now and the future. What we do with our lives from this point forward. You've already proven that you'll survive. Now, you need to thrive. That begins by accepting you are who you are."

Pam's voice came from his chest as her face was pressed against him. "That's easy when you are perfect."

"Perfect?!?!" Joe looked around, took her shoulders in his hands, and held her back so she could see his face. He allowed his eyes to snap to black and saw her flinch. "Does this look perfect? How about the fact that I'll never have kids? Yeah, I'm basically incompatible with everyone. Is that perfect?" he growled quietly.

Pam was trembling in his hands, trapped by his gaze. Joe's frustration dissipated, and he blinked his eyes back to brown. He moved his big hands to the sides of her head and gently kissed her forehead. He felt her gasp, and she clung to his chest. He slid his hands back through her luxurious black hair, enjoying the feel of the silky strands running through his fingers.

"I'm going to ask you again. Are you going to be all right?" Joe said.

"Yes," she whispered, fully absorbed in the sensation of his hands on her.

"That's right. You will. You're amazing. You're a survivor. But mostly, you're strong."

Her eyes opened, and she smiled. "Thank you."

"Thank you for coming back into my life." Joe smiled back. "Get your cell out. I want you to enter some numbers into it."

Pam pulled out an old beat-up cell, and Joe gave her his new number. "You can call or text me any time. Now enter this number as well." He showed her Rene's number.

"Who is Rene?" Pam asked, entering the number and name.

"She's my old boss at St. Germain's Feed and Supply. She helped me out a lot when I was going through a rough time. She's an amazing listener and gave me some excellent advice. They are also hiring, so maybe you could get a job with them. It's a good place to work. Uh, she doesn't know about my eyes, and I'd like to keep it that way if you don't mind."

Craig suddenly appeared by the table. "Sorry to cut this short, but we just got an evac call. We've gotta go."

Joe looked up at the expression on the Sergeant's face, and he knew something was up. "Right." He looked at Pam. "You have my number. Sorry, I have to leave so soon!" He ducked his head down and gave her a quick kiss. He forgot to hold the surge back, and Pam squeaked when her body jolted. "Oh! Sorry!" She was too dazed to move, so Joe scooped her up and slid out of the booth with her in his arms. He carefully sat her back on the bench on her side of the table.

Joe dropped money to cover the bill plus tip, kissed Pam's forehead, and raced out of the restaurant after Craig.

"What happened?" Joe asked when they were on their way.

"I have no details except to get you back to base ASAP." Craig indicated.

"How was lunch?" Joe smiled.

"Lovely. Truly lovely." Craig smiled back.

Military trucks were lined up along the side of the road just past Joe's driveway. The General and Director Bannon were standing at the end of the lane talking when they drove up.

Craig parked on the side of the road, and Joe hopped out. "What's going on?" he called out.

"Ah, Joseph! Good, we have to move. Hop in." He pointed to the back door of his truck. Joe got in, and Bannon got in after him. The General got in the front passenger side, and the driver pulled out onto the road and raced forward. Joe looked back, and the line of trucks pulled out in sequence and followed.

"Seriously, what's going on?" Joe asked again.

"One of Agent White's alternate sites just went red. There was a big gravity fluctuation, and we have reason to believe a portal was opened. The measurements have been steady for the last hour, so we believe the portal is being kept open."

Joe's stomach lurched. "How close by is it?" He looked out the window, expecting to see the aliens any second.

"It's in Northern Russia." the General said.

"Russia? Then why are we rushing, and where are we going?" Joe asked.

"Because after it opened, we got satellite confirmation that ten small objects have begun flying towards our current location at supersonic velocities. They're expected to arrive in about four hours." the General explained.

"My parents—" Joe yelped.

"Are being taken to a safe location by Sergeant Armstrong," Bannon confirmed. "Only Army personnel will be on location when the objects arrive. We are bringing in some heavy firepower."

"Why are we leaving?" Joe asked.

"If they are after you, we'd prefer you weren't there when they arrive. We're taking you to another safe place." Bannon stated.

"Which is?" Joe asked.

"Classified," the General said.

"Said the spider to the fly," Joe growled.

"Look, son, this is a little bigger than you right now. Could you spare us the melodrama until after the invaders have been dealt with?" the General growled back.

Joe looked at Bannon, who just gave him a stern look. "Can I make a call? I promise it's a quick one."

"Sure," the General said, turning back to look forwards.

Joe dialed Pam's number. After the fourth ring, her voicemail picked up. He left a message telling her he was leaving town on short notice, but if she couldn't reach him, she should call Rene.

Joe hung up, feeling a little lost. Everything was moving so fast. All he wanted to do was go to Hollywood and train to be a bodyguard. Hang out with friends and have a normal life. Yet here he was, racing to... he looked out the window and noticed they were pulling into the airport.

He hated flying.

The truck pulled up beside one of the Hercules transport planes. It looked so freaking big from the tarmac. How was this thing going to stay in the sky? Joe's anxiety about flying kicked up a notch. Joe started the shiver. He still didn't have a bloody winter coat.

The next thing he knew, they hustled him up the big ramp and over to some seating against the wall. Trucks had been loaded inside, and the plane was taxiing to the runway within minutes.

Bannon, sitting next to Joe, noticed his nervousness. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Did I mention I don't like flying?" he remarked.

The engines roared to life, and eventually, the plane dragged itself into the air. The noise was worse than in a commercial airliner and much louder than the luxury jet his lawyers used, but looking around, Joe could easily see why. He tried to relax as best he could and leaned back. There was no recline button on these seats. He closed his eyes and let the drone settle into his bones.

"Joseph! Wake up!"

Joe blinked awake and looked into the General's face up close. "Dammit, boy! You're hard to wake up!"

"What happened? What's wrong?" Joe looked around nervously.

"What's happened is the damn bogeys have changed course and are tracking us. Any idea how they are doing that?" the General growled at him.

"How the hell should I know?" he growled back.

"The metal band, did you get it removed?" the man asked.

Joe uncrossed his arms, and the General seized his right one. The band was still there. "Dammit! I told you to get the Engineers to cut this off!"

"I couldn't find them, then I forgot about it! Are we being tracked by this?" Joe pulled his arm back and held the band up to his ear.

"It's whirring inside," Joe said incredulously. "It's still operating after being shot and melted."

"Why shouldn't it be? You were!" the General barked.

"Do we have anything we could use to cut it off now?" Joe asked.

"Too risky to use a cutting torch in a plane, and the cutting tools are in the other plane with the engineers."

One of the military personnel rushed over. "General! Eight of the bogeys have increased their speed to Mach two-point-eight, and two are falling behind. The new intercept time is now twenty-five minutes. We're thirty-five minutes out from the airbase." He suddenly frowned as he listened. "Three have increased to Mach four-point-two, which means they'll be here in a matter of minutes. Interceptors are unable to track or engage the bogeys."

"We're sitting ducks in this beast. We need to get on the ground NOW. Find us a place to land the plane fast!" the General barked out his commands and strode off.

Bannon looked at the silver band. How something so small could be tracked at this distance was astounding.

Joe desperately tried getting his fingers under the band, but it was totally smooth from its surface being melted. He turned to Bannon. "Do you have your gun? You could shoot it off!"

"Joseph, we can't fire a gun in a plane while in the air," Bannon explained calmly.

Suddenly, the plane began a very rapid descent. Joe felt himself become lighter, and his stomach threatened to empty on him. God, he hated flying!

Moments later, they leveled out, and Joe felt heavier. Again, his stomach rebelled. Bannon handed him an air sickness bag. Joe nodded thanks and opened the bag over his mouth just in case. The plane hit the ground hard and bounced before it slammed down again, and the engine slammed into reverse. It was too much for Joe, and he threw up. Bannon held a second bag at the ready. He slipped it under Joe's nose between retches, and Joe moved over to the new bag before he heaved again. Joe's complexion was as pasty as Bannon had ever seen. There was a loud scraping noise, and the plane bounced two feet into the air before coming down with a final crunch. The rear hatch was already on its way down, and personnel were scrambling to unchain the vehicles.

Bannon unstrapped and began walking to the back of the plane. Joe couldn't move as his stomach was still heaving. He felt weak and limp.

Suddenly, the fuselage on both sides of him smashed in. Silver coils wrapped around the now loose section of the wall and Joe and ripped him, a chunk of the fuselage, and his seat from the plane. Joe felt himself falling backward and saw one of those damn cylinders approaching him from the front. The only thing he had to defend himself was the air sickness bags, but his arms were pinned down. He dropped the bags before they broke open on him.

Then he bounced along the ground as two cylinders tried to lift him and the chunk of plane they'd torn free. It must have been too much for them as they released him all at once. The wall section bounced and broke, and Joe was flung free. He was still strapped into his chair, taking a few bumps as he rolled across the ground.

When Joe finally came to a halt, he was dizzy and nauseous from the landing and the handling he'd received. His muscle tone was lost, and he shook. The cables came in, and he tried to swat them away, but the motions just increased his discomfort. He popped the seat restraints loose and rolled onto his side, retching onto the ground beside him. The tentacle came in again, but he yanked free, and they only got his duster.

When he looked up, he realized he was about half a mile from the plane, lying on his side in the dirt, watching three cylinders hovering above him. One of the cylinders had been the lucky recipient of a sick bag, which had obviously struck broadside and exploded. As Joe lay there dazed, he decided to call that one Stinky. He named the other two Hack and Slash for their brutal job on the plane.

Stinky made some noises and passed that green light over Joe, making his stomach flip flop again, but he had nothing left to give.

With a final loud chirp, Stinky turned off the beam and warbled at Hack and Slash, who wrapped their coils around Joe's upper arms and chest and lifted him to his feet. Joe staggered and then felt his feet leave the ground. He was suspended between the two cylinders. There was a distant roar, and Joe saw a truck come out of the plane and turn rapidly toward him. They were really pouring on the speed. Hack took a hit from a bullet, but it pinged off its side and did no real damage. Suddenly, Joe felt the wind on his back as his captors accelerated away from the plane back in the direction they had come from. Stinky played rear guard and fired some shots at the rapidly approaching truck, which dodged from side to side erratically but successfully. Joe couldn't determine who was in the vehicle but was impressed.

Stinky finally got a lucky shot in, and the truck went down on its undercarriage as both front wheels were destroyed. The three floated away with Joe between them, still accelerating steadily. Joe tried moving his arms, but how the coils went around his arms and chest effectively prevented him from reaching anything with his hands.

"Joe!"

The voice startled Joe, and he looked around frantically. "HELLO! WHO'S THERE?"

"Joseph, it's me, Roger Bannon. I've activated your phone remotely."

Joe realized the voice was coming from his chest pocket, pinned by the coils. While it was a little creepy that they could do that with his phone, he was grateful in this instance.

"Where are you? Are you coming for me?" Joe said.

"We're back at the plane. It's not going to fly again without a lot of work, but I'll stay on the phone with you, and we can track your location with it. The General is arranging a pick-up and is getting air support between you and the coast, so we're working on getting you down." Bannon said.

Joe looked down and realized he was really high up. He couldn't tell how fast he was going, but the wind on his back was intense.

"Uh, oh shit, I'm way up in the air. I hope no one gets the bright idea to shoot the cylinders out of the air because I doubt I'd survive the fall."

"Sorry, Jo—...havin—...hearing you." The cylinders were picking up the pace again. The wind noise was making it hard to hear and breathe, for that matter. A combination of altitude, cold, and velocity was making Joe lightheaded. "Can't... breathe!" he yelled before he passed out.

Chapter 26

The wind noise had diminished considerably, but the cold and thin air was still there when Joe next became aware of Bannon's voice. "Joe! Can you hear me!"

Joe's head was splitting, and he was chilled to the bone.

"Wha—" he mumbled.

"JOE! Can you hear me?" Bannon's voice yelled.

"Jeez! Quiet, please. God, my head hurts. So cold." Joe started to nod off again.

"Joe! Stay with me! Please! Tell me what you can see."

Joe cracked open his eyes and hissed in pain as the late evening sun stabbed at his nerves. He flicked his eyes to black and opened them again. He looked around and saw seven cylinders floating in the sky around him. "I see seven dwarves. Hack and Slash and Stinky, the original three who grabbed me. I see Rusty and Burnie to my left, and to my right, I see Patch and Frank."

"Joe, what does that mean? Are you having trouble with the altitude?" Bannon asked, concern in his voice.

"Yes, I'm having trouble." he snapped. "Why the fuck am I still up here, and how did all of these other ones get here so fast?"

"Joe, you must have passed out. I've been trying to reach you for hours. You're over the Bering Sea." Bannon explained.

"WHAT??!" Joe snapped awake. "What happened to getting me down before the coast? Where are you?"

"They shot down every plane that got close, including a few small civilian flights that crossed their path. We're in Alaska and in touch with the Russian government. There isn't a lot of love between the two world powers at this time, but as this is a common foe, we are working together to find a solution. Unfortunately, the portal in Russia is extremely remote, and getting military aircraft out there to lay down a strike on it is looking next to impossible."

Joe felt the shock seeping into him. The sense of hopelessness. "Oh god. They're going to take me, aren't they? You won't be able to stop them, will you?" Joe said with a terrible sense of dread.

The phone was silent for a while.

"I—I'm so sorry, Joe," Bannon sounded crushed.

"Wow. That really sucks." Joe was stunned. He looked around at his escort. What the fuck were these things, and why did they look so freaking broken down. He was being taken captive by a floating junk pile. Well, except for Hack and Slash and Stinky, which looked newer.

"Can you tell my parents I love them? And Amy? God, I miss her! Tell them I had an amazing life and thank them for it. Ask Mom to tell Rene to contact Pam if Pam doesn't reach out to her."

"Joe, there is no reason to believe you're going to die. They wouldn't go to such trouble to capture you if they intended to kill you. They could have done that multiple times, but they've been very careful to protect you." Bannon argued.

"That may be, sir, but they showed no compassion to my parents when they killed them, so as experimental subjects go, I may end up on a dissection table sooner or later. Even if I somehow escape, and I will try at every opportunity I get, I'll still need to get back to a portal, somehow activate it, and get back through. I'm guessing that's a long shot at best. Even if they don't kill me, my chances of getting home are not good," Joe said, his mood turning dark. Joe felt the green light passing over him again, and his stomach knotted up. "Fuck you, Stinky!"

"Why did you come up with those names?" Bannon asked.

"Hack and Slash appear to be newer and were the ones who cut through the plane. They're also the ones carrying me now. Stinky also looks newer and was with the first two. It got hit with my air sickness bag. Maybe both. Serves it right. Rusty looks... rusty. Burnie has scorch marks on it. Maybe it was one of the ones near the portal the General hit with the airstrike. Patch has patches welded in places, and Frank looks like Frankenstein, bolted together from spare parts. Aside from the three newer ones, they all look like flying junk. What happened to the other three?"

"One turned back shortly after leaving the portal. A second one exploded spontaneously over the Bering Sea on its way to North Dakota. We lost track of the third one. It was one of the slower ones." Bannon replied.

"Wow, so for a planet-visiting race, they sure have a lot of broken-down tech," Joe theorized. He looked around himself. "Not that it doesn't get the job done."

Joe thought for a while. "Maybe you could just shoot us from the sky?"

There was silence from the phone, and Joe thought he heard arguing. "Sorry, Joe, they actually already tried that. A barrage of missiles were fired from several of the jets before they were shot down. None got close to the target."

Joe realized that all happened when he was unconscious. If they had been successful, he might not have woken up. "Ah. Okay."

"I'm sorry they did that, but things got pretty heated when the cylinders started taking out civilian aircraft as well." Bannon apologized.

"No, it's okay," Joe said. "Listen, I'm having trouble focusing. I can barely breathe, and I'm so cold and hungry. On top of that, Stinky keeps hitting me with that green light, making me nauseous. I can't stay awake," Joe's voice was almost a whisper at the end.

"Joe! Try to stay awake, son!" Bannon called out, but Joe had passed out.

-=-

Joe smelled dirt and realized he was lying face down on the ground. His body hurt terribly, and even turning his head was torture. To his left, he saw Hack lying on its side seemingly dormant. He agonizingly turned his head to look in the other direction, and there was Slash standing upright but dormant as well. So they were out of commission? If he could move, maybe he could escape. But his body rebelled when he tried to move. He was in too much pain and felt himself slip into unconsciousness again.

-=-

It was the pain that woke him up again. He was in the air once more. A green light passed over his body, and Joe spasmed into dry heaves. He heard a sharp tweet, and they picked up speed. Joe thought he heard Bannon's voice, but he sank again into oblivion.

-=-

It was dark when he opened his eyes. He was on his back on the ground, and he could barely see trees around him. He moaned from the pain.

"Joe! Oh God! Joe, are you awake!" Bannon said frantically.

"yes..." he whispered.

"GENERAL! He's alive! Joe, you're in Russia now. The crazy bastards set off a small nuke in the upper atmosphere and caused an EMP. We watched the cylinders all fall from the sky. The three newer ones, the ones you call Hack, Slash, and Stinky, seemed to be making a somewhat controlled descent for a while but then fell as well. Were you hurt?"

"yes..." he whispered again.

"God, I'm so sorry! How bad is it?" Bannon's voice sounded ragged.

"bad... can't move... much." he groaned.

"You're on the ground? You don't seem to be moving." Bannon asked.

Joe peered into the gloom, then flicked his eyes to black and made out the outlines of the three cylinders surrounding him.

"on my back... cylinders are here... only three left... seem to be... waiting." Joe panted out, fighting to stay conscious.

"You're very close to the portal. We think they might have run out of power. Can you escape?" Bannon asked.

"huh... huh... no... can't even move..." Joe wanted to laugh, but the effort was too much. He started to hear something. "Someone's... coming...."

"Joe, listen to me carefully. Remain calm. Keep your eyes and ears open, and keep describing what you see and hear to us. Gather as much information about them as you can. If they take you through the portal, do your best to track your movements. Study their patterns and wait for your opportunity to escape. I imagine you will need to heal first. I understand you're good at that. I'm going to stop talking, so hopefully, they leave you the phone. But know that we're here and we're listening. Good luck, son!"

Joe's eyes teared up as he suddenly felt alone.

"I'm scared," he whispered.

Bannon whispered back, "It's okay. Be brave."

"Okay."

Soon, the noises he heard turned into footfalls, and once, he heard a thump of someone falling. There was another sound, like warbling. It got loud after the person fell. Then he could see them. Well, the outlines of them. The woods were almost pitch black, and the only light came from the stars. Joe decided he would start reporting now. He still didn't have enough energy to do more than whisper. He hoped they could hear him.

"I see around... a dozen of... the aliens. I can't see any color... but they seem to have... floppy skin. They are all holding... those rods..., and they seem to be... pointing them... where they walk... but I can't... see the light. Three of the... aliens are inserting... their rods into the cylinders. Sounds... coming from inside... the cylinders. I think... they're charging them. One of the... aliens... is getting close—Ohhhhh!"

Joe moaned in pain when the alien jabbed his chest hard with the rod he was carrying. He almost blacked out from the pain. Two of the other aliens screamed warbles at the violent one and began to strike him with their open hands until he dropped his rod and fell to the ground. They snatched it away and kicked him a few times for good measure.

"Bastard... hit... me. Got a... beating... for it... though..." Joe whispered harshly through his teeth. "If I make it... I'm gonna... give him a... beating too."

There was a deep whirring noise, and the three cylinders began to hover again. Stinky scanned Joe with the green light, and Joe convulsed. Stinky made a shrill note, and suddenly, Joe was being lifted in the air between Hack and Slash. The weight shift sent agony through Joe's body, and he blacked out.

-=-

In a control room in Anchorage, Roger Bannon, Rachel White, and General Dan MacAvoy watched the position marker for Joe's phone accelerate toward then merge with the tag for the portal. With a final squeal of distortion, the phone went silent. Within minutes, the marker for the portal disappeared as well. They looked at each other, shaken to their core.

They had calls to make.