

Hidden Talents

The Full Story

By Claire Cray

© 2017 Claire Cray

All Rights Reserved

About this version of Hidden Talents:

_Hidden Talents_ was originally published as a series of free novellas beginning in 2012. In 2015 the series was adapted and published as a trilogy by a short-lived independent press. The trilogy has been remastered here as the final, epic version of Hidden Talents. There's no good reason for this sloppy journey, but here we are—with a bigass book full of sexy psychics. Please enjoy it.

Table of Contents

PART 1: REBEL HELL

1. Telepath Seeks Asylum. Smoker. Pets OK.

2. Make New Friends but Keep the Old

3. It's Always Something

4. Sky Doesn't Listen

5. Ken Just Wants a Snack

6. Aki Keeps at It

7. Jin wakes up in Sadland

8. Monkeys, Ghosts, and Sky

9. Aki's Nightmare

10. Ken Walks Along

11. Mark Lets Go

12. Jin and the Pussycats

13. Lip and Kel at Work

14. Aki is Not in the Mood

15. Two Guys and a Heavy Bag

16. Ken Learns Something

17. Shopping with Lip and Ken

18. Blood on the Tracks

19. Mark Sees Redhead

20. Sky Makes a Mess

21. What's the Antichrist?

22. Junkie Whore

23. Jackson Gadamer

24. Midnight in Paris

25. Round One: Fight

26. Fresh Tracks

27. Aki Steps Out

28. Round Two: Fight

29. Look Sharp

30. Playing Chicken

31. Inside Affairs

32. Slumber Party!

33. Sky Lights a Beacon

34. Together Again

35. Six Months Earlier

PART 2: WIND CHANGE

1. First Class

2. Economy

3. Good Talk, Mark

4. Checking Traps

5. Driving Lessons with Ken

6. Inevitable

7. 2 AM

8. It Takes a Train

9. Meet the Family

10. Rearranging

11. Get Used to It

12. Aki Tunes In

13. Dare

14. Jumping Through Hoops

15. Getting Higher

16. Happy Graduation, Sky

17. City of Angels

18. New Tombs for Talents

19. Ken Meets Girl

20. Mark Gets the Message

21. It's All Jin's Business

22. Jackson Thinks Ahead

23. Fever Pitch

24. The Worst That Could Happen

25. WTF, Jen?

26. Lip Makes a Call

27. Jin's Desert Adventure

28. Aki Faces Facts

29. Ken Gets a Room

30. Burn!

31. O'Reilly Family Reunion

32. Ken Touches Trouble

33. Mark Loves Dylan. Or Jen. Or Dylan.

34. Paging Dr. Gadamer

35. Ken Does The Right Thing

36. Jin Gets In

37. Ken Goes Deep

38. Biting the Bullet

PART 3: HARD GAMES

1. Jin, Jackson, Jen, Jealous

2. Ken Comes Home To A Mess

3. Mark Gets Some Lip

4. Testing the Water

5. Aki Comes Clean

6. Finally

7. Death and David

8. Sky Clears Up

9. Telepaths Need Friends

10. Trust

11. Sky Gets a Little, a Little Late

12. Jin Finds the Beat

13. Baby Steps

14. Lip Takes a Vacation

15. Moves Like Jackson

16. David Doesn't Like It

17. Ken Lets the Cat Out

18. Kel Sees a Bad Moon Rising

19. Not Trying to Make It Weird

20. Mark and Dylan Never Say Die

21. Jin Does Not Know What the

22. Another Perfect Storm

23. Lights Out

24. Kel Watches the Weather

25. Closing Time

26. A Complicated Eulogy

27. On Another Planet

28. Ken's Bad Trip

29. Aki Sees Double

30. Jin Remembers Something

31. Jen Steps Up

32. Jin Does Jin

33. Lip Gets Real

34. Joke's on Ken

35. Squad Problems

36. Ken Takes a Swing

37. Jen Jumps In

38. Choose Your Friends

39. Just Like Old Times

40. Jin Wishes They Could Just Not

41. Jackson Admits It

42. Aki and the Devil

43. Jin Hits the Spot

44. Strauss Cuts the Shit

45. The Gang's All Here

46. Back to Reality

47. Benevolent Ghosts

48. Good Morning

49. Ken Figures It Out

50. Life After Fate

51. You Say Goodbye

52. O'Reilly Peace Treaty

53. Jackson Feels the Burn

54. Teamwork

55. Pizza Power

56. New World Order

Note from the Author

Part 1:

Rebel Hell

#  1. Telepath Seeks Asylum. Smoker. Pets OK.

Jin hopped expertly from rooftop to rooftop, high on anticipation as he drew closer to his target. This part of Paris was packed with tiny tenement apartments, which swarmed with crowds of thoughts that buzzed gratingly around his mental shields. He was a telepath, and an exhausted one. This was like running through clouds of locusts. A plague of noise.

His target, though, was silent. Unnervingly silent. He was a young guy, maybe even a teenager, and his shields were so strong that Jin couldn't read a single thing about him—not even what kind of Talent he was. He slipped through the shadows and crowds like a weird little ghost. Since Jin couldn't follow the kid's thoughts he had to track him the old-fashioned way, scanning minds in the vicinity for sightings whenever he lost his visual.

The novelty of an honest chase had kept him entertained for half an hour, but now it was time to cut the shit and catch the mouse.

He took a running jump to the next rooftop, cleared another street, swung down a fire escape and jumped straight down into the alley—right in front of his target. His new friend.

Jin flashed a cat's grin up at the waif in front of him. "Bonjour," he chirped as he stood.

The kid took a backward step, and he looked pissed.

So this was him. His face was as fine as bone china, pale and sharp, with mismatched green eyes—the left one dark as the deep sea, the right one pale as an emerald. Ink-black hair fell over his forehead, grazing his temples and covering his ears. His thin neck disappeared into a black hooded sweatshirt, and he wore dark jeans cut close to his long legs. On closer look, Jin saw he had scars. They were smooth, almost invisible, but they were there. A lot of them.

"I'm Jin," Jin said.

The kid was silent. Then he bit out, "And?"

Somehow, Jin felt that unexpectedly husky voice in his spine. He gave the smartass another look. Not exactly his type, but hard to look away from. Interesting. "And yours is?"

"Who are you?" the kid asked acidly.

"I'm Jin," Jin repeated, studying the scars. They were faint enough that they probably went unnoticed by many, but Jin's eye could see how heavily the kid's face had been messed with. There were so many scars they almost blended together at this distance, except for a few, like the long, clear slash extending from the outer edge of his dark eye to the corner of his mouth.

Jin felt a weird little throb in his chest. Exhaustion was making him goofy. "I'm a Talent. Like you."

"So?"

"Not enough to impress you, huh? " He took a step closer, wanting a better look at this odd creature with shields as strong as Jackson's. "What's your name?"

The kid stood his ground, glowering. "Harriet."

Well. Jin grinned. "Okay, Harriet. Take me to your leader, all right? "

"Why?"

"You're tough," Jin laughed. He took another step closer, wondering if the kid would retreat. He didn't. He was a few inches shorter than Jin, a few years younger, and skinny as hell. Razor sharp bones. Not Jin's type, no, but he did wonder what the rest looked like.

"Wonder what your Talent is," Jin murmured, enjoying the hard gaze of those mismatched gems, though he wasn't sure why.

Suddenly he sensed another Talent approaching the opening of the alley. Jin kept his eyes on the kid for another moment before he turned to look at the newcomer.

"S'goin' on?" It was a tall, athletic blond who approached. He looked like an Abercrombie model. The greeting was casual, and his posture was relaxed to match. But the energy was unmistakable: Like the kid with the weird eyes, this Ken Doll was a Talent—either some kind of psychic, or some kind of superman.

Jin gave his mind a scan, though even this exertion sent stale pulses of pain through his skull. The blond Talent's mind was well shielded, designed to blend in with a healthy outer layer of mundane thoughts. It would take a very clever telepath to see behind that facade, to find the hard protective walls that Talents built in their minds to hide their thoughts from prying psychics.

Jin gave him a look of approval. As a very clever telepath, he appreciated a good set of shields. They couldn't stop him, though, if he really wanted to get underneath them. "Lip, right?"

Lip came to a natural stop facing Jin and spoke in an Australian accent. "Who are you?"

"I'm Jin. Talent. On the run. I'll tell you everything. I just need a place to stay."

Lip raised an eyebrow. He looked to the kid, who looked back apathetically. _Cold!_ Jin thought.

"All right," Lip said. "Jin. Let's get a car."

A taxi swerved and screeched to a stop at the closest end of the street. "Got it," Jin said.

Lip looked from the taxi to him with a resigned expression. "Telepath?"

"Yep."

"Great," Lip said dryly. "Let's go."

Jin turned back to the kid. "Do I get your name now?"

"Ricardo."

"Next one you say's gonna stick," Jin warned, examining the planes of his face. There was definitely something weird about this one. It was like someone had crossed a baby deer with a wolverine. But those shields were on another level. Jin couldn't find a single opening. Not a crack. Not a peep. How could that be?

Maybe Jin was just more tired than he thought. That was probably it. He watched the kid take the front seat of the car.

Lip gestured for Jin to follow him into the backseat, and Jin forced himself to pay attention. The Australian's eyes were on him, curious and sharp.

"You look like hell," Lip noted.

"No sleep for a week."

Lip was about to say something when something else caught his attention: the kid had directed the driver to turn into a fast-food drive-through. "Ken," the Australian groaned.

Ken.

"What?" Ken asked. He ordered three cheeseburgers, fries and a large shake.

"No mustard on mine," Jin said.

Ken shot him a narrow-eyed look. "It's not for you."

"What do you want?" Lip asked Jin. Jin didn't hesitate to order a couple of burgers of his own. After a week on the run, with his Talent in a constant state of high alert, he was running on fumes. He'd take all the calories he could get until he could sleep.

"Can I play the radio?" Ken asked, piquing Jin's interest again. Was he young enough to be asking for permission? Or was he actually capable being polite? At Lip's nod, the kid turned it on and filled the car with American hip-hop before starting in on his food. He wolfed down the burgers like he hadn't eaten in days.

Jin noted this with interest. If he always ate like that, it could mean he was approaching a peak development period. Powerful Talents always ate and slept more when they were headed into a growth spurt. He was getting impatient to know what this kid was all about. He watched Ken lift the milkshake, slip the straw between his narrow lips, and suck.

Ken swallowed, then turned his head to fix Jin with a dark glare.

Jin smiled and took a bite of his own burger.

"Who's after you?" Lip asked.

Oh, right. There was a reason he was here. Reasons. There were reasons.

"KGA," Jin said around a mouthful. "I'm a deserter."

Lip's eyebrows went up. Jin wondered how much he knew.

\- - -

Before Klaus Gadamer founded KGA in the 1950s, Talents were the stuff of rumor and superstition. Gadamer, an esteemed scientist and a precognitive himself, was the first man to have the vision, timing, and ambition to make a study of this growing phenomenon in human evolution.

But his scientific interest in Talents was inextricable from his drive for power and profit. KGA was a nefarious venture from the start.

Gadamer was a master manipulator with ruthless ambitions. Using his precognition for all it was worth, he quickly collected a stable of psychics and sent them out to find others. Things snowballed quickly. Before long KGA had cornered the market. There was never any competition. And for the past half a century, the KGA monopoly had maintained a stranglehold on the world's Talents.

KGA's sweeper teams covered the globe, its psychics and empaths scanning minds in search of new Talents who were then scooped up and hauled into its headquarters, currently located in Berlin. There they were brutally initiated, brainwashed, and trained to use their abilities for profit. KGA made incomprehensible sums of money by sending its Talents out to manipulate leaders, governments, and corporations around the world.

It was all bad enough to begin with, but it had just become a whole lot worse. Two weeks ago, a coup had taken place at KGA.

The shadowy organization was now under the leadership of Wilhelm Strauss, a sadistic fascist with huge dreams of a new world order.

Strauss was already known and feared throughout the global ranks of KGA. His unusually cruel empathic Talent branded every KGA initiative with lifelong trauma. He had created KGA's keystone training program, the Trigger Method, which pushed Talents to extreme levels of ability slightly more often than it broke their minds. The broken ones kept the research labs in supply. There were always experiments on the schedule.

Strauss had one rival at KGA: Klaus Gadamer's grandson, the precognitive prodigy Jackson Gadamer.

Jackson, too, was known throughout the KGA ranks. When he was just a kid, he'd delivered a vision that enthralled the entire organization.

It was called the Key Prophecy. Jackson promised KGA that he would discover a prodigious young Talent, dubbed the Key, whose genetic material would provide the missing ingredient to their struggling Talent Genome Project. With the Key, Jackson said, KGA could finally develop a formula to allow them to clone perfect Talents, however they wanted.

The Key Prophecy stirred the upper ranks of KGA and sent Jackson's career into a steep climb. Being Klaus Gadamer's grandson and an infallible precognitive didn't hurt, either. All told, Jackson enjoyed an unprecedented degree of autonomy. He had complete authority over his assignments and team members, whom he trained as he saw fit.

KGA leadership had faith that Jackson's methods would lead them to the Key. But Strauss did not share that faith. He scorned Jackson's prophecies and resented his status. He was always searching for ways to bring Jackson down, undermining his authority at every turn. Fortunately, his hands were tied by protocol and the other members of the Board that ruled KGA.

But not anymore. Jackson's name and performance record wouldn't matter now that Strauss was in full control.

"You saw this coming, right?" Jin had asked Jackson when news of the takeover struck.

They were in Thailand, working on a project involving corrupt diplomats and opium magnates in the Golden Triangle, which wasn't as fun as it sounded. Jin was sprawled on the leather chair at Jackson's desk, drumming his fingers on his knee, grimly anticipating a likely worst-case scenario that involved being psychically flayed alive by Strauss's terrifying empathic Talent.

Jackson gave him a dry look. Of course he had. He threw an envelope down on the desk. "Go to Paris. You can hide there safely."

Jin laughed, incredulous, and raised his eyebrows at the precognitive towering over him. "Do what?"

The precognitive swept the edge of his suit jacket aside to hang a hand in his pocket. "Strauss will strike us at the first chance he gets. You're the most obvious target."

True. Strauss hated telepaths, and especially Jackson's telepath.

"Which leaves us no choice," Jackson went on. "As of this moment, you are on the run from KGA."

In Paris, Jackson said, Jin would find a cell of exceptional Talents with unusually sophisticated shields who could offer him asylum. Jackson would join him in a matter of weeks.

There wasn't time to have Jackson explain how there could possibly be a cell of exceptional Talents living under KGA's radar, nor how he'd cover for Jin's disappearance. But Jackson rarely explained everything anyway. Precognitives had to be secretive. It was all about controlling the variables, or whatever.

Jin was used to leaping at Jackson's command. This was a bigass leap. But Jackson had a plan, and Jin knew better than to doubt him. So far, Jackson had never failed. So it was off to Paris to find some homeschooled Talents.

\- - -

And here he was.

Fuck.

Lip spoke again, snapping him out of his rumination. "How'd you find us?"

"Wasn't easy," Jin replied. "I've been combing the city for a few days. Then I caught this quiet spot today. You should be careful of that, you know," he added to Ken, baiting him to say something.

Ken ignored him.

"How'd you know we were here?" Lip asked.

"My director sent me. He's a precognitive, and he had some intelligence on you he's been hoarding from KGA." Jackson had told him to be straightforward with these people, that they were vigorously suspicious of outsiders but would be sympathetic to their cause. He'd also told Jin not to underestimate them.

"Since when do KGA directors hold intelligence back from KGA?" Lip asked, as if he was familiar with how KGA worked.

Jin raised his eyebrows. "Do you know who Jackson Gadamer is?"

"Yeah." Lip didn't clarify how.

"That's my director," Jin said.

This could have been a point of pride. Any KGA Talent would kill to be Jackson's right hand. Jin didn't give a fuck about status at KGA. But he did care that Jackson had the brains, power, and Talent to stay ahead of Strauss. Plus, they were fucking.

"Do you know what happened there two weeks ago?" Jin asked.

Lip shook his head. That made sense. Having a bit of intel was one thing, but knowing the latest political developments in the inner departments would have been ridiculous.

"Wilhelm Strauss just took over," Jin explained. "Jackson's rival. Arranged the right death and got himself elected himself president of KGA."

Lip nodded. Despite his casual demeanor, the Aussie wasn't giving anything away. A regular iron butterfly.

They'd entered a neighborhood of subtly expensive homes. In the front seat, Ken was rummaging for his last french fries, ignoring everyone like he was alone in the cab.

"What's your thing?" Jin asked Lip.

"I'm a mix. Physical and mental."

KGA would call that a Hybrid Talent, Physical and Hypercognitive. But of course Lip didn't use KGA jargon. That was refreshing.

Then the Aussie neatly opened his mind up a bit to show his credentials, and Jin realized that Jackson hadn't been kidding about these guys.

Lip wouldn't just rank high at KGA. He'd be unprecedented. Not only could this guy outmatch anyone in speed, strength, and healing abilities, but he had powerful psychic defenses, complex shields designed to keep his mind secret, and significant level psychic skill to top it off: He could likely read unshielded minds.

KGA had been trying to breed hybrid talent like this for decades. They wouldn't even be able to classify Lip. Stunning.

The taxi pulled up in front of a brick house.

"Can I go home?" Ken asked immediately.

"Why don't you stick around for a while, okay, mate? Hang out in your old room."

Ken got out of the car. Jin watched him walk up the path to the house, noting that exchange. Old room—so he'd lived here before, and now he didn't. Had he grown up there and moved out after graduation, or what? "Is he always so friendly?" Jin asked Lip.

"Nope." Lip paid the fare. "Let's go."

# 2. Make New Friends but Keep the Old

Jin had gotten a second wind when he'd pounced on Ken, but his exhaustion returned as he anticipated the tedious introductions that likely lay ahead. A migraine was threatening, and he felt like he was dragging an extra few hundred pounds as he walked from the car to the door. He badly needed sleep.

Just a little longer. Jackson told him he could rest as soon as he was in the company of these Talents. Jin fantasized about the bed they'd have for him.

Inside the well furnished home, several men were spread throughout the living room and the kitchen. Not all were in view. It was clear from their looks, physiques, and relatively quiet minds that they were all Talents. At this point using his Talent felt like punching himself, so Jin stuck to scanning for the basic information that floated on the outside layers of their shields.

There was a tall guy with plum-dark skin sitting in an armchair. Kel, from Senegal. He had the cool beauty of a young prince, with high, noble cheekbones, full lips, and an air of incisive watchfulness. Another "physical and mental" mix, as Lip had put it. And like Lip, his shields were formidable. Kel nodded to Jin with a blank expression.

"Have a seat," Lip said, gesturing to an empty chair. "You need something to drink?"

"Juice if you have it." Calories. Running on calories.

His eyes moved to a man slouched against the frame of the open french doors leading to the backyard. Mark. He was beautiful, even for a Talent, with bronze skin and thick, dark brown hair. He looked like the descendent of a Native chief, with a dark charisma Jin could feel from across the room. He also looked like a killer. When he straightened from the doorway and sat on the sofa across from Jin's chair, he moved with a panther's deadly grace. A physical Talent, for sure. Jin had never been so impressed by one. Damn.

Lip was back with a tall glass of orange juice and a casual smile. It was an amusing contrast to Mark's broody aura. But despite their outward differences, Kel, Mark and Lip were definitely old friends. Jin got the sense they were the ones in charge around here.

Then two more Talents came into the room from a hallway, and things started to get weird. Apparently, not all of the rogue Talents were in perfect shape.

The new ones were a couple. Aki, a sullen-looking Japanese hunk with a mop of shiny black hair, and Luke, another pale, dark-haired beauty with light green eyes and a startlingly frail build. There was something distinctly, disturbingly unwell about them both. Especially Luke. It sent a chill down Jin's spine.

They must have been attacked, or something. _Something_ had fucked them up. Especially Luke. He was dead in the eyes, and when Jin brushed against his head, he heard a kind of strange, distant static that spooked him to his core.

Aki stared coolly at him, and when Jin met his eyes Aki cocked his chin in a haughty greeting. Jin was relieved. This one had been wrecked, too, but he still had his wits about him.

Jin beamed at him, even as he wondered what the hell Jackson had gotten him into. Also, where was Ken?

"So this is Jin," Lip announced, sitting on the arm of the sofa where Aki and Luke had sat. "He's a telepath and he's just deserted KGA. Apparently there's been a change in leadership."

Kel appraised Jin again. "Who?"

"Uh," Jin said. "Wilhelm Strauss just took over."

Kel nodded in apparent recognition. "And who's your director?"

"How do you guys know this shit?" Jin asked, caught off guard. "Jackson Gadamer's my director. He's the one who sent me. He knew about you guys, but KGA doesn't. He said I could hide out here, that you have some trick for staying under the radar."

Most of the Talents looked vaguely surprised, except for Kel, who was possibly incapable of showing emotion, and Luke, whose eyes were fixed somewhere off near the farthest corner of the ceiling.

"A trick?" Lip asked.

"Yeah. How are you doing that? KGA sweepers come through Paris all the time. How are you still here?"

Lip shrugged. "We just use our shields. I guess we share them, sort of."

_"Share_?" Jin leaned forward, forgetting his exhaustion for a moment in his eagerness to learn a new trick. "How?"

"I dunno. We just connect and our shields seem stronger. We've done it for a long time. Can't promise total safety, but it's worked so far." The Australian paused. "If you feel for it, you can do it too."

Surprised, Jin scanned Lip's head again. Like all telepaths, he "saw" minds in visual metaphors—every brain a vast ecosystem of hallways, paths, rooms and walls, trapdoors and secret passages, endless layers of hidden places. When he skimmed Lip's outer shields in search of the protection he was offering, Jin found a sort of veil wafting his way.

"Can you use it?" Lip asked.

Yes, Jin thought could. Jackson had told him to. He cautiously opened his shields and "pulled" the veil over himself until he felt it settling over the surface of his mind. It hummed faintly for a moment, and then he could scarcely feel it at all.

That didn't make sense. Jin showed as much on his face. "So, I'm invisible now?"

Lip shrugged ambiguously. "Guess so."

Jin looked around the room again. Jackson really hadn't been kidding. These Talents were doing all right for themselves, despite whatever drama had befallen Aki and Luke.

Just then another blond came in from the kitchen. And Jin—to his own shock—knew him.

The blond froze in the archway, his blue-gray eyes widening in horror.

No fucking way.

Jin couldn't stop the grin from spreading over his face. Speaking of drama...

"What are you doing here?" Sky asked sharply, using the impeccable British English he'd been taught growing up in Japan.

The others looked between them in surprise.

"Nice to see you, too," Jin said warmly, remembering the last time he'd met Osaka's finest rent boy. It was a good thing he trusted Jackson's assurances that these Talents would grant him safe haven. Otherwise, he might have worried Sky would fuck it up. The whiner. Sure enough...

"Get him out," Sky said, looking at Lip and thrusting a finger in Jin's direction.

"How do you know each other?" Mark asked in a voice that sounded like gold flakes falling through dark chocolate. Not bad for an American.

Jin smirked. Hilarious jabs at the little orphan empath were collecting at the tip of his tongue, but he fought to remain on good behavior. Looking peacefully at his old acquaintance, he waited for an explanation.

"I ran into him in Osaka," Sky muttered, turning shifty.

Jin snorted and gave the blond a once-over, taking in his lithe figure, his creamy skin, his expensive clothes. Looking good. Even better than before. Cut back on the smack, obviously. Jin wondered how much that did for his Talent. Sky had always made such creative use of his empathy.

"And?" Mark asked.

"And he's a... a bad guy."

"I was just working," Jin said innocently. "Same as you were."

"You're an evil, sadistic prick."

"Well, you're the one calling names." _But we both know you're into that,_ he projected into Sky's mind. _Name-calling and sadistic pricks._

It was worth the psychic sting of effort to see those stormy eyes widen in outrage.

Lip broke in. "Sky, he's on the run from KGA, and he knows about us. If they find him, they find us. Is there a real reason to turn him away?"

Sky was incredulous, clearly horrified that Lip had to ask. "Because he's a sadistic asshole?"

"Objection!" Jin exclaimed, and saw Mark lower his head to hide a smirk. Aki was looking at Sky with vague dismay, as if embarrassed for him.

"Do you have a reason to think he's a _threat_ to us?" Lip pressed Sky in a somewhat cool tone, and it was pretty clear, to Jin's amusement, that Sky was having some trouble fitting in here.

Sky set his jaw stubbornly. "I don't trust him with Ken."

Oh, shit. Jin leaned forward. "Is he your boyfriend?"

"He's my _brother_ ," Sky snapped.

That was too much. Jin started to laugh. And then he couldn't stop.

"Fuck this." Sky turned and stalked out of the room, his perfect shoulder-length hair shimmering.

Aki got up from the sofa with a tired look and followed Sky. Luke didn't seem to notice.

Jin was still laughing, tears welling up in his eyes. He held his stomach; he was beyond help. Bordering on hysterical. "Wait..."

"You're tired," Mark said. "You should rest."

"Look," Jin managed. "I'm not here to..." He pictured Sky and Ken side by side. Nope. Still couldn't deal. The laughter boiled up and over again and he waved his hands, shaking his head.

"You can have the guest room." Mark said. "I'll show you."

Jin rose from the soft chair somehow, finally settling down into snickers. "Goodnight." He bowed to Aki and Luke, to Lip and Kel. "Thank you. Goodnight."

Mark led him down a hallway, into a spotless room with hardwood floors and the softest, most inviting bed Jin had ever seen. His eyelids started to droop. He nodded drowsily as Mark showed him the attached bathroom, the cabinet, towels and a toothbrush.

"We'll have to deal with you and Sky, whatever that is," Mark said, "But he'll keep his distance for now. You're safe here."

Jin toed off his shoes as he sank down onto the bed. For some reason, the Brady Bunch theme song had started to play in his head. "I could be out for a while. Couple of days."

"We'll check in. Anything you need when you wake up?"

"Food," Jin mumbled, rolling onto his stomach. Impressive hospitality. "I'll need food."

"Okay. Sleep well."

As Jin sank down into the warm, dark waters of deep sleep, blurry thoughts ran through his tired mind.

Luke's spooky head.

Jackson and the team.

Strauss.

Last of all—oddly enough—Ken.

#  3. It's Always Something

Jin appeared to fall asleep as soon as his weight settled into the bed. His face was gaunt, and there were purplish circles under his eyes. He looked like hell in the way Talents did when they were psychically exhausted. No one would doubt that he was on the run.

But worn down or not, Jin was clever and alert. Mark didn't miss the way his eyes had sharpened on Luke. He wondered what Luke's mangled head looked like to a telepath. He wondered what Aki's looked like.

They'd never had a telepath in their midst before, not really. Psychic abilities weren't their strongest suit, as a group. Luke was an empath as well as a healer, but he had always done what he could to ignore the empathy; and Sky was an empath, but he didn't know much about it other than the tricks he'd come up with as a man of the night. They were no KGA.

Jen had been a telepath. But she'd been a lot of things. Like catastrophically insane.

Mark joined Lip and Kel in the driveway. Lip was propped against his parked motorcycle, arms crossed, and Kel was sitting astride his own with his phone in hand.

"Is he out?" Lip asked.

"Yeah." Mark stood between them and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. He nodded at Kel. "What do we know?"

"Not much." Kel turned the phone idly in his hand. "Need to find out what's going on at KGA. Jackson Gadamer should be easier to check out."

Of the three of them Mark was the most gifted physically, but Lip and Kel outdid him when it came to deduction and logic. They analyzed information so well it was almost mystical. Kel was especially into gathering intelligence. The stoic Senegalese Talent was always flying around to spy, hacking into highly secured systems, keeping tabs on various paramilitary organizations, government operations, and—to the extent that it was possible—KGA.

It was all in the purview of their own organization, the Alternative Research and Security Institute. ARSI had once been ARI, a modestly funded private group devoted to unconventional research in neuroscience and genetics. Lip, Mark, and Kel had quietly co-opted it for themselves six years back, after the fall of the paramilitary agency where they'd met as young recruits. They poached the most talented scientists they could find and transformed the place into an underground operation devoted to researching Talent and monitoring KGA. As quickly as they could, they expanded the facilities to accommodate a training academy and began recruiting young men and women to teach them the lucrative art of espionage.

ARSI was still growing, funding itself with private security and defense contracts. Lip, Mark, and Kel took on endless missions themselves to keep the money pouring in while they built up a base of impeccably trained agents. Recently they had finally gained enough momentum to focus on research and intelligence.

They'd be ready to start looking for more Talents to bring in soon. None of them much liked the idea of building an army, or dealing with unknown Talents. But it didn't seem like they had a choice. It was only a matter of time before ARSI landed on KGA's radar.

So far they'd stayed out of that brutal organization's grasp. But there was no knowing how strong KGA would get. Whether they liked it or not, a war was guaranteed.

They were taking the telepath seriously, to say the least.

"Do we know anything about Wilhelm Strauss?" Mark asked.

"Just that he's on the Board of about a dozen Talents who've run KGA for years. If this bloke's taken the wheel for himself, that's big news." Lip sighed openly. "Anyone wanna bet it's _good_ news?"

Mark smiled without humor. "Wouldn't recognize good news at this point."

"Been a hell of a couple months," Lip agreed, and glanced over his shoulder at the house. "Luke and Aki still in there?"

"Yeah."

They all went quiet. Mark knew they were picturing the same thing: Luke's frail body, his empty expression, his hollow eyes.

"Luke looks like hell," Lip murmured, his forehead crinkling with the helpless concern they'd all gotten used to since it had happened. There was a long pause before he added, "He looks worse."

Kel nodded slightly.

Mark gazed at the concrete with a bleak look. What more was there to say?

He just didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do anymore.

Apparently Talents went crazy sometimes. Apparently they lost their minds. Apparently there was no stopping it.

That was what had happened to Jen. That was why she'd turned on them. That was why she'd assaulted them six weeks before, mangled Aki's head, lured Luke away for reasons unknown and ripped his mind out at the root.

It was also probably why, just two weeks before that, Luke's twin brother David had abruptly ended his own life.

Apparently these were things that could happen.

What were they supposed to do?

The front door swung open, and they all turned. Aki came out of the house with Luke following like a ghost. He paused and put a hand on Luke's shoulder, murmured something in his ear. Then he approached them.

"Hey," Lip said.

"I told Ken to stay here," Aki said, very quietly. The circles under his eyes had grown darker. "Keep an eye on him. And that new guy."

"Sure." Lip frowned. Mark and Kel were studying Aki, too. The Australian glanced at Luke, then back at Aki, raising his eyebrows. "Everything okay?"

Aki dropped his head and closed his eyes for a moment, then looked up at the sky. "He's not having a good day."

"Why don't I come stay with you?"

The Japanese boy shook his head.

"You sure?"

"It's fine. He'll take a pill and we'll sleep."

Mark looked past Aki. Luke was standing on the porch, perfectly still, his green eyes blank.

"All right," Lip murmured. "Can I come by in the morning?"

" _Aa_."

Mark's gaze shifted back to Aki. God, it hurt to look at him. The Japanese Talent had been so strong before she hit him. He'd fought so hard. "Aki," he said.

Aki looked at him, his dark eyes suddenly guarded.

Mark's heart sank. Everything was so complicated. "You sure you're okay?"

Aki's lips quirked slightly, the bleakest smile Mark had ever seen. He didn't answer.

"I'll come by later tonight," Mark said.

Aki shrugged. "Okay. Goodnight."

Mark, Lip, and Kel watched the younger Talents walk down the street toward their own house. There was a long silence.

"I don't know what to do," Lip murmured.

"Maybe the telepath can help," Mark said. Before Aki and Luke had come out, he'd felt only dull hopelessness. Now he just wanted to change this. He'd do anything to change it.

"Maybe."

Kel picked up his helmet. "I'll handle the research tonight."

"Thanks, mate." Lip was still frowning after the troubled Talents, now out of sight. "I'll be in touch. I got a bad feelin'."

Mark groaned faintly. Even Kel sighed and shook his head. Lip's deductions weren't always precise, but his hunches were never wrong. "Hate it when you fuckin' say that," Mark said.

"Sorry."

They all scattered, Lip and Kel on their bikes, and Mark on foot, headed for the house he shared with Dylan.

Two months ago, Mark had been in Luke and Aki's house when Luke shouted for him. Upstairs in the bedroom, Aki had gone into some sort of seizure. His nose was bleeding, which was rarely a good sign for them. It meant things were straining or snapping in the mind. Shields, usually.

But this time it was worse. Aki had a handful of Luke's hair as they carried him to the bed, and he managed to choke out four words: It's Jen, and Hide Ken.

Mark wished he could forget the screams that followed. But also the silence that came next, when Aki fell into a coma.

They called Sky, the only psychic they had, but when he tested Aki's shields he jumped back like he'd been burned. And that was how he described it. It was burned out in there, charred and smoking.

The senselessness of it was staggering. Mark didn't know what she would want with Ken, or why she would have to hurt Aki. Jen's unruly psychic Talent had been twisting her mind for a long time. This went beyond any chance of redemption.

And if there was more where this came from, they could all very well be fucked.

It wasn't clear how Luke figured out what she wanted. Lip guessed he had spoken to her psychically, or used Aki as a conduit somehow.

Luke only said goodbye to Ken. Slipped into his bedroom with a parting gift. At the time Ken was still covered from head to toe in gnarled and pitted scars. Luke used his healing Talent to smooth them out. Didn't completely erase them, for whatever reason, but diminished them enough that Ken could walk through the world as inconspicuously as he wanted.

Then he left.

A fucking note on the kitchen counter explained:

She'll settle for me. I'm going. Don't follow.

Please take care of Aki.

I hope everyone will be all right.

-Luke

Mark wished he could forget that, too.

The question remained: Why?

What did she _want_? A hostage? A lover? A whipping boy? A pet? _What_?

They couldn't track her down. Her Talent was godlike compared to theirs.

The muscles shrank from Aki's bones. Fuck, it was sick. The helplessness was agonizing. All they could do was watch him fall apart.

But they learned not to question Aki's chances of recovery in front of Ken. He scarcely spoke to them, but he didn't have to: one seething glance from those mismatched eyes could silence anyone. Until then the kid had kept to himself like a shadow in the corner, but now he was glued to Aki's bedside. At any hour they could find him with his arms crossed on the mattress and his head bowed close to Aki's, whispering unknown things.

Maybe that was what did it.

Aki did wake up.

And a few days later, Luke came back. Just walked through the front door and sat down on the first chair he saw. In a flat, empty voice, he told them where to find Jen. He'd killed her, he said. Then he fell quiet. And that was that.

Luke's eyes were dead. It wasn't exhaustion. It wasn't trauma.

It was an abyss.

Now it was almost midnight, and Dylan was in bed. He slept on his side, his dark, wild hair tumbling over his forehead, eyelashes fanned out over his sharp cheekbones. Even in sleep, his brow was furrowed.

Hard to comprehend what grief could do to a person. Hard to believe that Luke's older brother was known for his ability to light up a room with a grin.

Hard to believe how fast things could change. Between David's suicide, Dylan's traumatic grief, and Luke's—whatever this was, all three O'Reilly brothers had been taken down in a matter of weeks.

Dylan stirred when Mark slipped into bed behind him. Mark curled an arm around his waist, kissing his shoulder. There was no response.

After a long hesitation, Mark said, "Lip has a bad feeling."

Dylan's only reply was a slight shake of his head.

"Dylan." Mark pressed his forehead to the nape of his neck. Grief had a horrible hold on the Irishman; Mark dreaded the day Dylan woke up and realized the cost of his detachment. "Go see Luke and Aki. I'm asking you. Okay?"

Dylan didn't answer.

Mark sighed against his back. It didn't seem like Dylan could even feel him anymore. It was deeply troubling. He wished he knew what to do. But he never did. He never had.

#  4. Sky Doesn't Listen

Sky ignored Aki's advice not to bring Jin up with Ken. Not because he didn't respect Aki's opinion. But because Aki just didn't understand.

None of them did. And Sky wasn't going to wait for them to come around.

There was no way to speak to Ken in Lip's house. The Australian turned into a guard dog, always trying to stand between them, like he thought Sky _meant_ to bother Ken. Like he thought Sky _meant_ for things to get so heated and confusing every time. Like Sky wanted anything but to be there for his brother. _His_ brother!

Ken ignored his first two calls, but around one in the morning, he finally picked up. He didn't even say anything when he did. Ken was still weird about things like that, phones and greetings and conversations. Being this fresh out of lifelong isolation, he hadn't gotten the hang of anything yet.

"Hey," Sky said, trying not to sound nervous. Younger brother or not, Ken was intimidating. "Sorry if I woke you up."

"Were you sorry the first two times?" Ken's voice was deep for someone of his stature, and he had a way of speaking that gave each word an iron weight. At least, he did when he talked to Sky. Or it felt that way.

"Yeah," Sky answered awkwardly. "I just need to tell you something."

Silence.

"About that guy. Jin."

Silence.

Sky cleared his throat. "It's just that I know him. From Japan. And I just want to tell you not to go near him."

Silence.

"Okay? I don't know if you talked to him earlier, or—"

Three quick beeps. Ken had already ended the call.

Sky tossed the phone aside, sweeping a hand through his hair.

Why wouldn't anyone _listen_ to him?

He had a very bad feeling about Ken and Jin. He wasn't sure why, but thinking of the two of them at the same time made him prickle with anxiety. It made his stomach turn. It made him sick.

It made him want a fix so bad his veins _ached_.

He'd been clean for three months, since he'd arrived in Paris and found his little brother living in a house with a bunch of people like them. Ken still didn't want anything to do with him. There wasn't much Sky could see to do about it except keep trying, and in the meantime, break out of the habit that had held him captive for so long. No more heroin for him.

Not that Ken seemed to notice. Sky could only hope he cared. And he knew it wasn't enough, yet, but what would ever be enough?

Ken was little when they were separated. Sky wasn't much older when he alone was bought out of that brothel in Romania, whisked away by Tetsuo Iida, a prominent Osaka gangster. He remembered that in those early years there had always seemed to be a connection between his feelings and those of the small, pale, black-haired boy, but he was too young to contemplate it, and he lost track of it when he was transported far away to Japan.

Iida doted upon Sky obsessively, rarely letting him out of sight. Sky slept with him, bathed with him, and learned to cater to his desires. The man was known for his eccentric decadence and his taste for art and antiques. Sky was eleven when Iida introduced him to his most beloved pastime: opium, smoked from ornate antique pipes.

That was the start of forgetting.

When Sky was thirteen, Tetsuo died of a stroke. His brother and sergeant Takuya took over his estate and affairs, happily adopting Sky and replacing opium with heroin.

Takuya was a more ruthless criminal than his brother had been, and soon found new uses for his underage concubine. Sky was regularly sent out to reward the man's favorite associates and allies, and occasionally to murder his rivals.

Sky's charms kept him safe among these dangerous men. His physical beauty was unparalleled. His drug habit kept him loyal. Most importantly, his empathy allowed him to read and influence the feelings of those around him. Sky honed this Talent to keep them happy. They rewarded him with affection and a steady supply of heroin.

Growing up in this haze of drugs, sex, and luxury, he almost never thought of the world he'd left behind. Even so, sometimes he had nightmares so horrific, so _real_ , that he woke up shaking uncontrollably, groping for the needle.

Maybe, deep down, he had always sensed the dreams were more than dreams. But it wasn't until he was fifteen that he knew for sure.

One afternoon as he was draped across Takuya's silk sheets while the man was out on business, a blast of emotion broke through his drugged bliss and flooded his senses with pain and fear. It felt like something was stabbing him in the eye, tearing, gouging, and his head rang with wordless pleas for help.

All at once, he knew—even as he lurched out of bed, stumbling for the bathroom—he _knew_ that the line between himself and his brother had never disappeared.

Crumpled on the floor, clutching his eye, Sky felt the other boy's desperation reaching over land and sea, gripping him like a vice. Calling him, begging him for help. And as the vision returned to his eye and the pain faded to a persistent throb, Sky became overwhelmed by shock and guilt.

Almost instinctively he tried to call back to the other boy, to comfort him and tell him help was coming. He even started thinking about a plan. Surely he could convince Takuya to take him to Romania. He could convince anyone to do anything. Takuya would probably love it. He'd feel like a hero, and so would Sky. And maybe the boy could live with them.

If so, then Sky would have a little brother. The thought made his heart swell up like a balloon. But as he thought all this out, Sky's eye kept hurting. So he took another hit.

He wasn't sure how long it was before he thought about the other boy again. Time was so hard to hold onto. The days, the weeks, the months, they just kept slipping by.

Each time he remembered, he reached across that link with a fresh surge of desperation. But somehow, each time, things slipped out of reach again.

Years floated by. They just floated by.

It was all very confusing.

#  5. Ken Just Wants a Snack

Ken opened the door of his room at Lip's and peered cautiously outside, listening closely. The house was almost silent, but he could hear Lip's voice on the back porch downstairs. The Australian was talking to someone on the phone.

Sidling out of the room, Ken walked silently down the hall and descended the stairs. He knew they'd put the telepath to sleep in the other guest room. Hopefully he'd stay asleep. Ken just wanted the leftover pizza he'd seen in the refrigerator earlier in the day.

It was still there. Ken pulled a slice from the box, closed the refrigerator, and leaned back against the counter to eat it by the light of a small bulb over the stove. Chewing the first bite, he grimaced in disappointment. The crust was tough and all the sauce had soaked in. It was nothing like the cold slice of pepperoni pizza he'd enjoyed a few days before. He ate it anyway.

He hoped Aki was okay. Luke had looked weird. And everyone seemed tense. Even Sky was somehow more aggravating than usual. Ken frowned thinking about it.

Things had been okay between him and Sky for the past couple of months, probably because there were so many disasters to deal with and the blond was actually trying to be useful for once. Ken should have known better than to think the peacetime would last.

Why did Sky keep trying to tell him what to do? Ken couldn't wrap his head around it. Just because they had the same parents, Sky thought they were supposed to act like brothers did on TV. Well, it was probably because of the link between their heads, as well. They'd always been able to sense each other's feelings, whether Ken liked it or not. He did not. But he was stuck with it until he could figure out how to get rid of the connection.

Maybe he wouldn't hate it so much if it had ever done anything useful. But it hadn't. Even though Ken had used it to call Sky for help, for years. And years. But whatever.

It wasn't Sky's job to save him. But it was notable that he only gave up his silk sheets and gangster drugs after Ken got _himself_ out of Hell, hitchhiked across three countries with a bunch of body parts missing, and tracked down the Talents in Paris. _Then_ Sky came to find him. Ken had only been in Paris for a couple of months at that point, and he was just starting to become a human being. After a lifetime in a dark cage he still had some catching up to do, but he was figuring it out. It didn't hurt to be surrounded by new luxuries like beds, showers, and food. Finally, he'd made it out of the dungeon, and things were looking up.

And _then_ Sky showed up. What a joke.

Ken finished his slice of pizza and considered it for a moment before he opened the fridge and pulled out another.

The first time he saw Sky he couldn't believe it. Not only his beauty, which was so perfect it made Ken think of things like roses and diamonds, but the expectations he arrived with. This tall, pretty stranger tried to _hug_ him.

The audacity of it turned Ken into a ball of rage. How could Sky say "brother" with those pleading, hopeful eyes, like he wasn't the one who'd taunted Ken with heroic daydreams while enjoying a life of silk sheets and expensive drugs? And how could he act so wounded when Ken didn't embrace his arrival? Why did he think Ken owed him anything?

Ken quickly decided to ignore Sky unless absolutely necessary. But the blond hadn't given up. Ken could feel the neediness wafting off of him all the time, and he could expect Sky, at every possible opportunity, to try and snare him into a meeting or conversation. That was one perk, at least. Interacting with the stupid shit did motivate Ken to develop his verbal skills, just to eviscerate Sky's pathetic pretenses and his pleas for family bonding.

What an idiot. Calling him on the phone tonight. Stay away from Jin? What was he talking about? Ken stayed away from everyone.

He frowned at the pizza and wondered if he could figure out how to order another one to be delivered. It didn't seem complicated.

The back door opened, and Lip's quiet footsteps crossed the living room. A moment later he appeared in the archway of the kitchen and blinked in surprise. "Jesus, mate. You're like a fuckin' ninja."

Ken smiled slightly.

Lip noticed the pizza and grimaced. "You're okay with that? Mark picked it up."

"It's not very good."

"No. Mark has awful taste in food."

Ken frowned. Bad taste in food? This puzzled him. It seemed easy enough to recognize what was delicious and what wasn't. So many things were delicious.

"Are you still hungry?"

Ken shrugged. "I just thought this would be good."

"Well, now you know better." Lip opened the freezer, releasing a cloud of steam into the warm, dim kitchen, and pulled out a flat box that he slid across the counter toward Ken. "Here. Pepperoni. Instructions on the back."

Ken picked up the box, intrigued. "Thanks."

"No worries." Lip's phone lit up in his hand and he lifted it to wave at Ken. "Back to work. I'll be around."

Ken nodded and turned immediately back to the pizza. Once he got it in the oven, he leaned against the counter and watched the frozen disc turn toasty and melted. The world was still bewildering, yeah, but he was starting to feel like he was getting the hang of things.

#  6. Aki Keeps at It

Aki sat slumped in an armchair, staring into nothing. Crouched on the floor before him was Luke. Luke had just finished healing the damage he'd done to Aki's body. But for some reason Aki still couldn't move.

He'd known it was going to be a bad night. Even if he hadn't known, he would have seen it in Lip's eyes, and Mark's, and Kel's. And if he were completely honest, he'd seen this exact thing coming. Her poison coming out. Luke turning violent.

Luke was staring at him now, studying him with that strange new mechanical look in his eyes. The old Luke would soothe him now. He'd say something. Old Luke would hold him. Old Luke's eyes would be full of quiet tenderness.

The old Luke wasn't there. But there were moments when Luke remembered who he was supposed to be, or saw the shadow of who he'd been, who she'd ripped out of him. Moments like this, when he spoke up and his voice wavered with uncertainty. "I hurt you."

"It's okay." Aki leaned forward immediately, framed Luke's skeletal face in his hands. Why wouldn't he eat? "But Luke, you can't do that. You can't hurt people." He closed his eyes briefly. It was all wrong. Luke would never hurt anyone. Never. And yet he had. And it could have been anyone. It could have been _Ken_.

Before Luke left and surrendered to Jen, he had doted on Ken. Luke _loved_ Ken. But after he came back from Jen, it was like he barely recognized the kid. Aki sometimes wondered if he'd somehow managed to cut Ken out of his head, protectively, before he went to her. It wouldn't surprise him. Luke rarely acknowledged his psychic Talents, but he was always capable of more than he let on.

Anyway, it didn't matter. Luke had all but forgotten Ken, and sometimes that made Aki more nervous than anything. Not just because it meant one less reason for Luke to want to live, but because the darkness she had left in him was frightening, and Aki was gutted to realize he didn't trust Luke anymore.

Aki dropped his head, kneading Luke's bony shoulders. His chest was tight.

"I'm sorry." Luke's voice was vacant, but there were echoes of him in it.

Aki clung to them.

"It's okay." Aki looked at him again. "If it happens again, I'm calling one of the others. I don't want to, but I'm not strong enough now to fight you."

For a second, dismay flickered in Luke's eyes and he looked almost like himself.

Aki pulled Luke up into his arms, kissing his cheek and holding him close. "It's okay. It's fine. Don't worry."

Luke was silent. But doom radiated from him like the scent of sickness.

If only David were here. Aki stroked Luke's dark, limp hair, eyes shut tightly. Luke hadn't even begun to recover from his twin's death when all of this started. As if he ever would have recovered...

Aki guessed Jen must have taken him weak link because he was only twenty-four, a mere physical Talent, and inexperienced with psychics. She didn't know that he always trained his mind like he trained his body. A lifetime of meditation had served him well. When he first learned about Talents and psychics and shields, he didn't hesitate to expand his combat skills to the mental realm.

When his mind wasn't the open library she'd been counting on, she burned it down and left him for dead.

Why? Would they ever know? She was dead now, as far as a Talent of her strength could be declared dead. Her cold, still, corpse, untouched by decay, lay in a high-security tomb at ARSI.

Luke was still alive. His eyes were still open. He still spoke. But what she'd done to him...

"Aki."

Aki pulled back to look at Luke. He got thinner every day, and his large green eyes now seemed too big for his face. Aki caressed his cheek, wondering if he'd eat today, if he'd drink some juice, if the life would ever come back into his eyes _._

Luke stared back at him silently. He did that often now, said Aki's name and nothing else. As if it was the only thought he could put into words. But this time he managed to get back to full sentences. "It's bad that I hurt you."

"She did this." Aki said, summoning the strength to speak in a firm voice. "She messed us up. But we're still alive. We'll get better. We just have to keep fighting."

"I'm tired."

"I'm tired, too, but we can't give up."

"I can't control anything." That dead calm look was returning to Luke's eyes. "Can't feel anything."

"Luke." Aki gripped his hands. "We can't give up."

"I can't tell the difference."

"It doesn't matter." Aki's voice firmed up with all the resolve he could summon. "You're going to eat today. You're going to rest. I'm going to call Sky. He said he'd try again."

Luke nodded slowly, his expression unchanged.

Aki had a bad feeling.

#  7. Jin wakes up in Sadland

Jin slept for three days straight and woke up just as the shit was hitting the fan. Somewhere nearby, a Talent was losing it, and his thoughts were _loud._

And they were in Japanese. Aki.

Jin groaned and buried his head in the pillows for another moment, even as he took a peek into Aki's head. Immediately he felt Aki's face pressed into a cold, skinny neck, his hands fisted in limp, silky hair. Then he heard him sobbing Luke's name.

Oh, shit. Luke was dead.

Suicide? Exhaustion? It wasn't clear. Jin scanned for bits and pieces. It seemed he was a depressive type to begin with, and he'd been floundering since his twin brother killed himself. And the weirdness Jin had sensed? He'd been mauled beyond any hope of recovery. And who had done it? None other than Mark's old girlfriend Jen, a hybrid psychic who'd gone bonkers and turned on them. She got her hands on Luke, tore out his mind and crammed something else in its place, apparently.

Jin grazed the details of the story, wondering if any of them could possibly be surprised right now. Of course Luke had caved. _No one_ survived that shit.

That was all he could take of Aki's head before his Talent recoiled. Things still weren't right with him, either. Aki's mind wasn't as messed up as Luke's, but she had fucked it up good. It set Jin's teeth on edge. Spooked, he pulled himself out.

Well. So that was the morning news. The ghost was dead, and these guys were starring in a fucked up soap opera.

Jin slunk out of bed, rubbing his eyes, and waited for the clamor of other voices in his head to settle into manageable tracks. Aki, Mark, Sky, and Lip were all about a mile west, and there was a new one just down the hall.

No Luke. No Kel. No Ken.

No Ken? Had he left with Kel? Or had something happened to him, too? Jin felt a twinge of displeasure at the thought. Ken couldn't be dead yet. Jin hadn't figured him out.

Jin swept the surface of the new mind he sensed down the hall lightly, picking up the basic details. It was Dylan, Luke's brother. Another Irish guy. A regenerative Talent, a healer. Interesting. Jin headed his way, cautiously letting his Talent slip deeper into his thoughts.

Dylan was sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. His fingers were knotted in his wild black curls. Jin paused in the doorway, soaking it in:

Luke was dead. Suicide.

Gave up. Let it happen. Again. How could he

Jin stared, eyebrows way up. Dylan was a mess. His mind was a churning pit of dark sorrows and bitter regrets. As always, after a moment of listening, Jin started to get images and impressions from the deeper layers of thought beneath the surface.

What he saw made him cringe. Maimed bodies in a dark, rotting house. A corpse hanging in decay. A green-eyed boy crying.

Jin jerked himself out of Dylan's head with less finesse than usual, but he'd already gotten the picture. For someone who hadn't been put through the KGA gauntlet of initiations and experiments, Dylan had certainly seen some shit.

Dylan lifted his head, and damn. He was a stunner, with an angular, almost gaunt face that set off his plush lips and large, light green eyes. There was a stark, strange sensuality to him that would normally have hit Jin in all the right spots, but right now he looked wrecked.

"What happened?" Jin asked.

"Who are you?" He spoke in a strange Irish dialect.

"I'm Jin. And pardon my saying so, but you're about to lose your head. You should take a pill or something." These chumps really needed to take better care of themselves. See? He could be helpful. He could hang with the good guys.

Dylan only got up and left the room. Jin heard the door open and shut, and then a car started and drove away.

Jin sighed. This wasn't exactly his kind of drama.

He took a shower, running the water as hot as he could stand, relishing in the thick lather of expensive soap and the squeak of his hair as he rinsed it clean. There was a set of fresh clothes on the chair. Nice bunch of hosts he had. It was almost enough to make him suspicious. Talents weren't known for warmth and hospitality where he came from. And if you walked around KGA with your brains hanging out and crying like that, you'd be sent to the labs.

Standing in front of the mirror with a towel around his waist, he roughed up his hair to make sure it dried nice and wild. He'd dyed it again recently, going for red but achieving more of a fried chestnut that he liked even better. Unsurprisingly, he'd lost weight during his hardscrabble week on the run. He pinched the scant flesh of his abdomen with an appraising look, then checked his slightly hollow cheeks and bony collarbone. He would put muscle back on quickly enough, but in the meantime, he could pull off this look. Kind of a Sid Vicious, Kate Moss sort of thing. He smirked at himself and went to change into the clothes.

Lip was approaching the house on foot, and he was talking to himself. Jin cautiously tuned in, not eager to repeat his experiences with Aki and Dylan, but his impression of Lip the other night had been correct, as well. The Australian's mind was clean, tidy, and almost inviting. That was almost as disturbing in its own right. What a yuppie.

Taking a look through Lip's eyes, Jin found a shocker. The Aussie wasn't talking to himself. He was talking to Ken.

Jin went quickly down the hallway, pleased and perplexed. He was all rested up now, so why couldn't he hear the kid? He should be able to pick up on Ken's thoughts if he tried. He should be able to pin down his presence, at least. The others were loud and clear, but Ken wasn't even a shadow at the edge of Jin's senses. He was nothing. Silent. Just like when Jin had first found him.

What the fuck kind of shields was the kid working with?

"Mark's with him," Lip was telling the kid quietly. "Don't worry."

Through Lip's gaze, Jin saw Ken staring up at him with open dismay. So he trusted Lip enough to drop his guard a little. Cute. "I want to help," Ken said.

"Nobody can help right now," Lip replied, putting a hand on Ken's shoulder. "It's gonna be hard for a bit. Give Aki a little while, okay? He won't want you to see him upset."

Ken's eyes turned woeful.

"C'mere, mate." Lip gathered the kid into a tight embrace. Jin turned his attention to Lip's private thoughts, but suddenly Lip surprised him by sending a cool mental greeting his way.

The sunny son of a bitch had felt him listening. Damn, the guy was good with his shields.

Jin backed off and headed to the kitchen. His body was screaming for food, anyway.

When the other two came in, he was taking a plate out of the microwave with a croissant hanging out of his mouth. Ken passed the kitchen without acknowledging him, while Lip slowed down and sat at the large wooden table.

"Rough day," Jin remarked, studying him.

Lip looked glum, his blue eyes clouded with regret. "You back in shape?"

Jin nodded and took a bite of potatoes. His eyes closed. Heaven.

"So, fill me in." Lip's eyes went to the coffee pot just finishing its drip.

"I got it," Jin said gamely, and grabbed another mug. This was fun. How civil! How suburban! Except for, of course, the Irish guy with all the corpses in his head. And the suicides. And Sky the Death Hooker of Osaka was here, to top it off. But still. Compared to what Jin was used to, this almost felt like playing house.

He sat across from Lip and slid one of the steaming mugs over to him. Lip thanked him. It was then that Jin realized Lip's mind was damn hard to read.

It hadn't _seemed_ difficult at first. It had seemed like Jin was getting the complete picture under the top layer. But he wasn't. Lip seemed to offer a rich field of information, but on closer inspection, many things were missing—like all the things Jin wanted. Thoughts on him and Jackson and KGA, for example. Reading Lip's head, a telepath might think the blond didn't know a thing about any of that.

Jackson's whole _Don't underestimate them_ command was really starting to sink in. "You're _damn_ good with your shields," Jin said, partly because it was true, and partly because he wanted Lip to know that he knew it. "How'd you learn?"

"We figured it out and taught each other." Lip shrugged. "Like everything."

"Huh," Jin said, intrigued. "Well. Anyway, what do you want to know?"

Lip took a long drink of coffee and licked his lips, then crossed his arms loosely on the table and looked at Jin. "Why did Jackson send you off on your own? Why just you?"

Jin swallowed another large bite of food. "Strauss has a special grudge against Jackson, and also me. He hates telepaths to start with, and I'm a pain in the ass." Jin paused to take a sip of coffee. "We were in Berlin already when Strauss took over KGA, and Jackson knew I might be Strauss's first target. So he pushed me out to get a head start. But he and the others will have to bounce soon enough. It won't take long for KGA to find out I'm gone."

"You were brought up at KGA?"

"They picked me up in Russia when I was about thirteen. I went through the intake process. Messed me up. But then Jackson drafted me for his team. That was nine years ago."

"You trust him, then."

Jin reminded himself of Lip's Talent and Jackson's advice to always be as truthful as possible. Hypercognitives of Lip's caliber were almost like baby precognitives. Lip would survey all of information available to him, collect all the potential outcomes like a calculator and choose his course accordingly.

Jackson was confident that the Australian and his friends would allow him in their midst if Jin was as forthcoming as he could be. So Jin opened up, even though it felt weird. "Jackson isn't KGA," he said. "He manages his Talents on his own terms."

"How does he get to do that?"

"Because he's Klaus Gadamer's grandson, and he's the most powerful precognitive ever, and he makes them a shitload of money. He never fucks up. His accomplishments are unprecedented. Talents who work under him always get stronger and get more done." And there was the matter of Jackson's most important prophecy, but _that_ was classified. "Basically, every decision he makes works out for them, so he has more autonomy than almost anyone at KGA."

"And he's willing to threaten that by scheming to break away with you?"

"Well, yeah. They still fucking own him, and us. And they're a bunch of sadistic old shitbrains. KGA wastes so much fuckin' Talent it's a joke. Like, they've got this system for breaking us in called the Trigger Method."

"What's that?"

"Well." Jin scratched his eyebrow. It was weird to be here, alone, talking about these things with a Talent he didn't know. "I don't know how much you know about, uh, anything. But KGA is really into the connection between trauma and Talent. You know? How most powerful Talents have been through some kind of extreme traumatic experience?"

Lip nodded.

"So KGA was always trying to find a way to take advantage of that. You know. 'Why not just traumatize all the Talents? Then they'll all be powerful.'" Jin gave a sarcastic, jazz-hands-like gesture. "But the results weren't consistent until Strauss got involved. He's a seriously fucked up, seriously powerful empath. Whatever an empath can make you feel, he can make you feel it about a thousand times harder. His Talent is making you suffer. Basically."

"All right."

"So Strauss dives in and invents the Trigger Method. Every new Talent KGA brings in goes through it. You meet Strauss, and he tears into your head, and you..." There weren't any words for it, so Jin pinched his fingers together at his temples and then popped them open with an explosion sound. It wasn't meant to be humorous. "It pushes you into a deep panic. A _primal_ panic. And your Talent freaks out and manifests as hard as it can. Boom."

"So it works."

"Yeah! Except it fucks you up forever. Your shields are shattered. The psychics come out crippled, with expiration dates. They die off early. Some don't even recover in the first place. That's how they roll, though. If your shields don't recover, they figure you weren't cut out for KGA in the first place. And they can always use more live specimens in the labs. Or for the other psychics to practice on.".

Lip nodded slowly. "And Jackson opposes these methods?"

"Yeah. He's proved that different strategies lead to psychics functioning longer, and better." He indicated himself with a flourish. "But they don't care. They don't _need_ us to live longer. All they care about is breeding and engineering, anyway, and their genome project, too. They'd like us to be disposable. Single-use only, if they had their way."

The Australian propped an elbow on the table and rubbed his chin softly, mulling this over.

"Listen, Lip." Jin leaned forward like he was going in for the hard sell. "I don't know how long Jackson's known about you, but he told me not to fuck with you, or underestimate you. I see your shields. I see your Talents. And judging from how much you know about KGA, I can see you have some resources at your disposal. As for us, we've just gone rogue—the last thing we need is a new bunch of enemies. We're not fucking you over right now. We couldn't afford to do that. You dig?"

After a moment, Lip nodded. "You're welcome to stay. In fact, now that you're here, I'd prefer it if you did."

Jin leaned back slowly, letting Lip's decision settle. "Appreciate it." He paused. "So what the fuck's goin' on out there?"

Lip sipped his coffee. "An old friend of ours turned on us. Attacked Aki and Luke. Aki's been recovering, but what happened to Luke was more severe. He died this morning. Exhaustion, I guess."

"Sorry to hear that." Jin meant it. It did suck. Insanity was no joke. He had tasted it enough times to know.

"If you're gonna stay here," Lip said, "don't touch Aki's head."

"No problem," Jin replied aloud. He wasn't going back in there anytime soon.

"This is a sensitive time."

"Got it." Loud and clear. No drama allowed, if he wanted to keep his asylum. No pushing buttons.

At least not for now.

When Lip excused himself, Jin went wandering through the house. They weren't exactly settled in, and there wasn't much to see. He wondered where Ken was. If he was giving Aki space, did that mean he'd be under the same roof as Jin for the night?

He retrieved a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his jeans in the guest room, then headed outside through the french doors in the living room. Afternoon faded into evening. He stepped out onto a wide back patio and propped his elbows on the railing, lighting a smoke. A movement in the corner of his eye made him turn.

Ken sat on a bench against the house, arms crossed. He wasn't looking at Jin.

Jin shook his head, amazed. That was far out. The kid was fucking invisible. Nobody had shields like that except Jackson and a few members of the Board. "Some shields you got," he said at last.

Ken ignored him.

"You want a smoke?"

Ken looked at the stick in Jin's hand, then looked away.

Almost. Jin turned to face him, leaning back against the railing. "Sorry about your friends."

The kid made a soft, dismissive sound: "Tch."

Well, that was something. "Anything I can do?" Jin asked, and wondered with amusement if he'd ever said those words before.

"Leave me alone."

"Okay."

Ken finally looked at him then, his face a blank slate. His strange eyes studied Jin for a moment. "Thanks," he said, and stood up.

"Bye," Jin said, surprised by the sudden civility. Apparently, he'd said the right thing.

"Bye."

Weird. But he liked it. He liked those eyes on him.

After his cigarette, he wandered to the garage. His eyes lit up at the collection of impressive motorcycles. He looked them over, wondered if he could get away with borrowing one, and decided to wait until he knew which one was Sky's. Shit. Being good was a pain in the ass.

Sky. There was an idea. Probably his best hope for some fun tonight.

He went to the street and flagged down a car, not even bothering to acknowledge the driver. It was good to have his Talent back. Three days of sleep was a long time. A record, actually. And it meant it'd been ten days since he'd last seen Jackson. He wordlessly compelled the driver to take him west, towards where he heard Sky moping and sulking in a cheap apartment three miles away.

He couldn't wait to see if the golden hooker still had all his old tricks.

# 8. Monkeys, Ghosts, and Sky

Sky sat on the edge of his bed, miserable. Beside his right hip was a respectable quantity of heroin he'd picked up twenty minutes ago. It was too easy. All he had to do was open his senses and feel for that dark well of beautiful numbness being enjoyed by someone in the vicinity, then go there and convince them to share.

Today had pushed him past his limits. He could still feel Aki out there, sending out wave after wave of a grief so large and complex it wasn't like anything Sky had heard from anyone before. He could feel Mark's quiet disappointment and regret covering his sorrow like a field of storm clouds. Lip and Kel were better at keeping it in, and Dylan was long gone. He'd left the city hours ago.

Earlier, Sky could feel Ken trying furiously to block him from seeing his feelings. Now, for once, he was so tired he didn't mind.

Sky had been the one to tell Aki.

He buried his face in his hands.

Just hours after Jin had been given a guest room, Luke flipped again. Violently. Aki bore the brunt of it, but it could have been anyone. It was clear Luke had reached the end. There wasn't enough of him left in there to compete with the scars of violence and perversity that Jen had left him with. He wanted to hurt people.

It was enough to make Aki desperate. He called Sky back, begged him to do whatever it took, even just to rattle Luke's senses, to wake him up. Sky tried. But he still wasn't used to using his empathy for anything but sex, and Luke was so messed up. It was scary, going into his head. The feelings weren't normal. The only ones he had left were settled deep at the bottom of his mind, and they were ugly, and mean, like sleeping monsters. Sky didn't know what to do. He couldn't do anything.

When he gave up, Luke didn't even seem affected. The calm, snowy quiet Sky felt from the Irish boy chilled him to the bone. It wasn't natural. He was a ghost.

Sky had lingered at the house this morning, wondering if he could do a better job with Aki, and if Aki would let him. The Japanese boy looked worse every day. As Luke slipped away to David's old room and shut the door to take a rest, Sky tried to make small talk with Aki, thinking of how to broach the topic without offending him. But then his Talent picked up something strange, like a cold draft. And suddenly he realized Luke had disappeared.

He told Aki. They rushed to David's room. Luke was curled on the bed, his pale arm wrapped loosely around a pillow, cold and lifeless.

Aki broke down. It wasn't fair. He'd fought so hard. His rage and grief felt like chainsaws on Sky's under-developed shields. So, he fled.

Now he was alone with his own grief. Sky had liked Luke. He'd liked Luke a lot. Before all this happened, Luke had done a lot for Ken. More than Sky had ever had a chance to do. It almost made him jealous.

"You seem like a very jealous person," Jin said from the balcony.

Sky looked up sharply. "What are you doing here?"

The telepath burst through the open sliding door with a flourish. "Man on the run!"

"So?"

"You mean, why am I here in your boudoir?" Jin asked innocently, and approached the bed. He reached for the stash at Sky's side. When Sky tried to stop him, Jin caught his wrist and pulled him up.

"Fuck off," Sky spat, his face inches from Jin's.

Jin studied him, amused. "Still got those tattoos?"

Sky wrenched at Jin's hold, to no success. "Fuck _off_!"

"Your brother know you shoot up?" Jin released him abruptly, just as Sky was about to spit in his face. The telepath wandered the room. "Some manners you have. So, how come you never told me you had a brother?"

"Don't act like I fucking know you."

"Sorry, what's it take to know me? I've had my dick in you, haven't I?"

"Where haven't you had your fucking dick?"

Jin grinned and spread his hands, doing a slow spin on his heel. "Just found a whole new scene to explore."

Sky's cheeks flushed with anger. "You touch him and I will slit your fucking throat."

"You mean your brother?" Jin hummed thoughtfully. "You think he'd let me?"

Sky clenched his fists, his mind working. He'd only met Jin a handful of times, but he hated him. Hated his telepathy, how he used it to amuse himself at Sky's expense, how he was always laughing at something.

"Who do you think you're kidding?" Jin taunted. "You don't hate me. You hate yourself because when I'm mean to you, you cream your pants. Anyway, I'm trying to _talk_ to you. I don't know if I believe that kid's your brother."

"We're not talking about him."

"I'll find out anyway. I could find out right now."

Sky gritted his teeth. Maybe he'd just have to keep Jin distracted.

"God, is that always the first thing you think?" Jin asked, laughing in disbelief. "Don't you think that's a little narcissistic? You think you're so much prettier than him you could keep anybody away?"

"Fuck you," Sky snapped, shamed.

"Sad, really." He looked Sky up and down. "Not that you aren't the pinnacle of pretty. Like a pretty, pretty, fairy tale princess."

"Why are they letting you stay?" Sky shouted.

"Because they have no reason not to, you petty little shit. Come on, baby. We've each had a rough week, haven't we?" Jin stepped closer. "Tell you what. We'll have a truce. A nice, clean fuck and we can start fresh."

Sky shoved him back. "Fuck you."

"If that's what you want."

Sky was gifted a sudden vision of Jin, naked and close up, bouncing rhythmically on his lap. And as badly as he wanted to rant and rail and fight until he expelled the telepath from the room, there was no ignoring the fact that the image went straight to his dick.

He turned away and sat on the edge of the bed again, rubbing his face as Jin calmly streamed a few more clips into his head, wearing him down with more ease than the telepath probably expected.

"No, kitten, this is exactly the ease I expected."

"I hate you."

"Yeah, maybe you do. But..." Jin jiggled the little bundle of dope he held at his side. "...you don't really want me to leave you alone with this, do you?"

Sky glanced at the stash. _Three months._ The bleak craving welled up in his chest.

"I got something better," Jin sang softly, his feral smile turning sultry.

Sky looked at him. Ken hated the heroin. What would he think of Sky fucking Jin?

"Why? You gonna tell him?"

"Are you?"

Jin snorted. "Why would I do that?" He tossed the stash onto the dresser behind him and sauntered towards Sky. "As far as weird sluts go, you are number one. Weirdest, sluttiest."

Sky let the telepath sink one knee down onto the bed beside his hip, let him cup his face, and let himself be kissed.

Jin's lips were deceptively soft and tender, with a gentle lewdness that Sky remembered extremely well. The telepath was cunning in bed, but at least in this respect, Sky knew he could give as good as he got. Better.

He kept his hands on the mattress, letting Jin work for it, even as he began to let little tendrils of his empathy uncurl.

"Love the way you use that Talent," Jin breathed, brushing a lock of hair from Sky's face. "Still a pretty boy, too, huh? Thought you'd cut this hair if you ever got out of Osaka."

"It's my hair," Sky muttered, still not lifting a finger.

"I'm not complaining, princess." Jin pressed Sky back onto the bed and deepened the kiss, running his hand down his side and slipping it under his shirt. Sky felt a throb of desire more urgent than before and opened up his Talent even further, letting his empathy drift lightly through Jin's mind and send ripples of pleasure through his body. He relished Jin's groan, the way his limbs relaxed, and the way that pleasure echoed back, his own Talent drinking up the same sensation it had caused in the first place.

Finally motivated, Sky pulled off Jin's shirt and flipped him onto his back, straddling him and sitting up as he removed his own.

Jin smirked mildly when he saw the intricate, colorful tattoos covering the left side of Sky's chest and trailing down to the right side of his abdomen. He lifted a hand to trace the back of the dragon with his fingertips, following the curve of its tail where it wrapped around Sky's nipple.

All Talents were good-looking, but there was something about Jin's sharp, feline expressions that Sky found simultaneously hateful and impossible to resist. Seeing the smirk on the telepath's lips, Sky leaned down and shut him up with a long, obscene kiss. The telepath relaxed completely, luxuriating in it.

The hard fact was that Sky needed it more than Jin did. There was nothing, aside from heroin, that made him feel as right as this. He imagined great musicians felt the same way when they played their masterpieces. It was the one thing he was best at, the thing he had under control, the thing that never defeated him.

Jin was out of breath in minutes, writhing on the sheets as Sky pulled out his cock and gripped it tightly at the base. The telepath had a beautiful dick, smooth and straight. It was the kind of dick he loved to wrap his hands around, loved to wrap his lips around. Sky dragged his tongue from the base to the tip.

"Oh, fuck," Jin breathed when Sky closed his lips around him. He dipped his fingers into Sky's hair. "Sweet little slut. Didn't even ask you to, did I?"

A small gasp escaped Sky's nose as he worked his mouth around the rigid length, soaking up the pleasure he was drawing from the other man and letting it fall back down to him. The breeze from outside hit them, and he reached up to feel Jin's nipples turn into hard pebbles, pinching one sharply. The rough moan he got in response, the shudder of Jin's body and the spike of lust, flowed through him like a song. He pulled his lips off of Jin's cock just to take it down again, working it so deep in his throat he could hardly breathe, pushing until his head started to swim.

"You sick whore," Jin gasped, raking his fingers through Sky's hair. "God, you're so fucking good..."

Sky rose, breathing as hard as Jin, and finished off the rest of their clothing. Then he let Jin pin him on his back and take over, just because he liked how the Russian talked to him.

"I know you do," Jin whispered, flashing a grin as he rocked his hips against Sky's. He seized Sky's lower lip between his teeth for a moment. "'Cause I know how to talk to filthy cunts."

Sky moaned. He was beyond thinking about it—how far Jin could see into his head, how well the telepath understood what he needed, how thoroughly he exploited it.

"You miss being passed around? I know you do," Jin murmured against his cheek, running his hand up Sky's inner thigh, his abdomen, his chest, his throat, over his lips. He slipped two fingertips between them, pushing them back along Sky's tongue. "You're being good here, right? Any of these guys know what a whore you are?"

Sky gasped as Jin's fingers went between his legs again, crept behind his balls, circled his asshole.

"Aren't you gonna show 'em?" Jin probed with one fingertip, sinking his teeth gently into Sky's neck. "I bet they'd love to use you up once in a while. Just gotta say how bad you need it." He nuzzled Sky's earlobe gently. "You're good at that. Finding nice fat cocks to stretch you open."

Sky trembled beneath him, erection straining against Jin's stomach.

He _hated_ himself for how much he loved to fuck Jin. He'd hated himself the first time, and he hated himself this time.

Jin groaned, getting off on Sky's train of thought just like Sky was getting off on his pleasure. "You hate yourself so much you're gonna pass me some lube."

Sky pushed him onto his back, straddling him again and leaning over to the nightstand. He rubbed the gel between his palms for a moment before he put one slick hand on Jin's dick and reached behind himself with the other.

"Yes," Jin hissed, watching through half-lidded eyes as Sky fingered himself. "What's that feel like?"

"Too tight for you." Sky gazed down at him heatedly as he worked himself just enough to make things wet. Jin reached back to feel for himself, but Sky stopped him before he got carried away. Gripping the other man's stiff length, he rubbed it against his slick entrance and pushed himself down.

Jin's breath shook out of him as Sky's ass stretched and squeezed around his cock, and he shut up until Sky was fully seated. Then the telepath sat up, hoisting Sky by the hips to keep them together. When Sky took a rough handful of his hair, Jin hissed and flashed him a hot grin.

"I hate you," Sky moaned, his body singing with pleasure. His fingers dug trails in Jin's back, relishing in his taut skin. He did. He hated Jin. _Hated_ him. It was like taking poison. "Harder."

"Sick fuck," Jin breathed, sucking and nipping at Sky's neck.

" _Harder_." Sky wondered, deliberately, how well Jin could fuck if he actually tried. So far Sky and his Talent had done most of the work.

Jin growled and tipped him onto his back. "Think I need you to wait on me?"

"Yeah," Sky whispered, and felt Jin's amusement just before the telepath's hips snapped forward and he gasped. " _Fuck_ me," he moaned, feeding Jin more thrills with his Talent, egging him on. _Fuck me. Ruin me. Fuck me to death._

Jin slowed down instead, pinning Sky's wrists to the bed near his shoulders with a ruthless smile as he languidly rocked his hips. "You wish," he purred, blue eyes gleaming. "You fucking _wish_ , Sky."

Before Sky could react to that insidious _knowing_ -ness, Jin gave him what he'd asked for. The telepath's hips slammed into his with almost enough force to hurt, but not quite—not until Sky's pulsing hunger and depraved pleas drove the telepath out of his mind.

Then, with Jin's cock pounding him roughly, with Jin's hand clenched on his throat, Sky's thoughts were all blinded and his whole being _burned_ with pleasure.

"Fucking perfect," Jin growled against the corner of his lips, his body moving like a whip as he thrust in again and again. "Sick little cockslut, you're so _fucking_ good."

Sky's body shuddered uncontrollably from head to toe, his head thrown back. _Yes, yes, yes, yes..._

The dam burst. Sky grabbed for Jin's hair and yanked it cruelly with both hands just before his orgasm overcame him, blazing through him in a white-hot fury that he channeled straight back into Jin. The telepath went wild between his thighs, following him over the edge in a violent frenzy, sinking his teeth into Sky's shoulder and shouting against his skin.

When it was over they lay in one gasping heap, neither willing to let go of the afterglow any sooner than necessary. It was Jin who finally got up, went to the bathroom for a shower, came back and dressed.

Sky didn't bother moving. He'd gotten exactly what he needed, and he was glad when Jin left without a word. As soon as he was alone, he drifted off to sleep.

# 9. Aki's Nightmare

Aki had a terrible dream. It receded into his subconscious as quickly as he woke, so by the time he opened his eyes, the only trace left was a groggy discomfort. In the next few seconds, reality sank in. It did not feel any better.

He lay still, blinking his swollen eyelids, studying the folds of the blankets beside him.

Luke was dead.

_Dead_.

Aki gazed at the blankets, unable to comprehend much of anything else through the fog of shock. Luke was dead. He stared like that for several minutes, maybe an hour. He didn't know. But his mind was blank for a long while, until he heard Lip's voice from the doorway. What he said exactly didn't register, but then he felt the bed sink beside him, and Lip's hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Aki."

"We can't bring him back. Can we?"

"Let's just get through tonight," Lip said gently. "All right, mate?"

Aki heard the answer in his voice, but he already knew it anyway. Talents could come back to life sometimes, with the right combination of healing abilities and psychic intervention.

But only two Talents had ever brought anyone back from the dead, and those Talents were Luke and Jen.

That wasn't even the point. Why _would_ they bring Luke back? Just to watch him die again? It wasn't like his body was the problem. It was his mind. There was nothing left in there to resurrect, and he knew it. They all knew it.

"Maybe I shouldn't have made him fight so hard," Aki said, his voice shaking. "Just to suffer and..."

"You did exactly what you should have done. The sufferin' wasn't your fault."

Aki shook his head. Another interminable silence stretched on. It didn't even matter that Lip was there.

"Ken's downstairs," Lip said at last. "He's been there a few hours."

Aki opened his eyes again. He hadn't even realized he'd closed them. But the thought of Ken sent a ripple through the numbness.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be ready to see him or not. Think I caught him givin' me a dirty look when I headed up here instead of him."

"He shouldn't see this." Aki sighed and rolled to his back, covering his eyes with his palms.

"I knew you'd think that, but he already knows you're human." Lip paused. "Kid's got your back. You and Luke didn't go through this for nothin', okay? Just remember that."

No, it hadn't been for nothing. Whatever Jen had wanted with Ken, she hadn't gotten it. Aki had given everything he had to make sure of that. And even though he was knocked out early, he knew Luke was on the same page, because Luke had gone and given everything he had, too.

"You wanna be alone?" Lip smoothed Aki's hair.

Aki nodded.

"All right, mate. I'll be back." Lip leaned down and kissed his temple. "I'm so sorry, Aki," he murmured. "I'm sorry we couldn't save him."

Aki said nothing as Lip left. Silence stretched on again, and he drifted into something between waking and sleeping, a place where all he could do was wonder how any of this was possible. It seemed inconceivable that he'd lost this battle, that he'd never see Luke again. It seemed like it had to be some sick joke. It seemed like Luke would lie down beside him any minute and wake him up with a kiss and a soft smile.

He was still drifting in and out of sleep when he felt a weight on the edge of the bed again. Opening his eyes, he saw Ken crouching beside him, his arms folded on the mattress, staring at him with one of his complicated expressions. It was the sharp, wary gaze of a wild animal, and it held a twinge of woe.

As Aki stared back into those uncanny eyes, Ken reached out tentatively and squeezed his hand.

Aki's lips trembled. He turned his face and pressed them to Ken's thumb, closing his eyes again. He felt two fat tears roll down his cheeks anyway. He wanted to tell Ken to leave, but he couldn't.

"Can I stay?" Ken whispered.

"Yes." Aki choked out, lacing his fingers through Ken's. "I'm sorry."

Ken crawled onto the bed to lie beside him. He did not embrace him, but he stayed close, holding Aki's hand in both of his. That was a lot, for Ken. It was a lot for Aki, too. All of it.

There were several things Aki wanted to say, but they didn't feel right. He wanted to tell Ken that Luke had fought as hard as he could. He wanted to tell him nothing like this would ever happen again. Mostly he wanted to tell him everything would be okay.

But how could it be? It had to be. It had to be okay, for Ken. Or Aki would have to make it okay, if it wasn't. And if it couldn't be, then he guessed he'd have to die a liar, because he couldn't let Ken think it was all like this. Because that couldn't be true. Which meant he had to be okay.

He got tired just thinking about it.

"Aki."

Aki opened his eyes to look at Ken again.

"I think you should rest. Just rest now. Don't worry about anyone."

Aki pressed his face to Ken's hand again.

"I'll be here. I'm okay." Ken bit his lips for a solemn moment, then said, "If I was you, I'd rest for a long time."

Aki nodded, keeping his eyes tightly shut.

Three months ago, hell had opened up and swallowed Aki. And then it had spat him out and taken Luke all the way down to the bottom.

But it hadn't touched Ken. Ken was safe.

Aki held onto Ken's hand, letting the tremors of grief calm down, and then finally drifted back to sleep.

# 10. Ken Walks Along

Ken walked down the sidewalk towards Lip's place, hands in his pockets. Mark was back there talking to Aki, and Ken didn't mind having some time alone. The atmosphere in that house did not feel good.

Then he spotted the weird new guy walking towards him. Ken slowed his pace, suspicious. Where did he think he was going?

"Hey," Jin said. "How's life in the pits?"

Ken looked blankly at him. There were still many words and expressions he didn't know, and he hated to admit it.

Jin sighed and shrugged, walking on as if to pass Ken.

Ken straightened and stepped to one side, blocking him. "Where are you going?"

Jin stopped. He looked surprised, and then his eyes lit up with a curious gleam. It reminded Ken of a cat he'd seen on TV the week before, the way it became alert and ready when someone wiggled a piece of paper at it. But instead of hunkering down to pounce, Jin put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Just thought I'd check out the other house."

"No."

"Why not?"

"None of your business." Jin had no business with Aki. Ken didn't even like Mark or Lip being there. He thought they should all leave him alone for a while.

"Fair enough," Jin said, and spun on his heels to take to Ken's side. "Where _you_ goin'?"

Ken frowned at him, and started walking.

"Don't say much, do you?" Jin kicked a stone. "Hey, you know I met your brother before?"

Ken couldn't help spitting out a reply. "I don't have a brother."

Jin pivoted to walk backwards in front of Ken. "So why does he think he's your brother?"

"I don't know. Maybe we had the same parents."

A slow grin lit up Jin's face. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and hung one on his lips. "Last one," he said forlornly, digging for a lighter. "Know where I could buy some more?"

"A store."

"Right." Jin paused to light his cigarette, and then jogged to catch up. "Know where I can find one of those?"

Ken shook his head.

"Wanna walk around and look for one with me?"

"No."

"Aw," Jin said, disappointed, and followed Ken up the walkway to the house. "How 'bout a movie?"

Ken stopped at the door and turned around, with a scowl. "Why are you bothering me?"

"Maybe I like you."

Ken's scowl held, because he didn't know how to react to that. It became even worse when Jin held out a hand.

"Friends?"

Ken looked at the hand, then at Jin's overly innocent face. The man was obviously enjoying himself, and to Ken's great confusion and annoyance, he sort of got the joke, whatever it was. And it was actually pretty funny, though he wasn't sure why. Ken turned away and went into the house.

"De- _nied_!" Jin's yowl was cut short when the door closed.

Ken sighed and went to the kitchen, where he found a basket of muffins on the counter. Finally, something to be pleased about. He picked one up and took a huge bite, then examined the dark purple spots inside. Blueberry. He recognized the taste from the pancakes Lip had made the other day. Sitting down at the stool in front of him to better enjoy the baked good, he noticed a card in the basket.

For Ken and friends, from Jin

Ken choked on the bite he was swallowing.

Lip rounded the corner from the living room and clapped him on the back before taking the card from his hand. The man read it, and then snorted softly.

Ken liked Lip. He liked the way he looked, with his blue eyes and closely cropped blond hair, and he liked his cheerful, intelligent voice and strange accent. He liked his confidence. And he liked how he turned stern and unforgiving whenever Sky started to whine. He didn't even mind that Lip kept a close eye on him, sometimes even asking the silent and mysterious Kel to follow him at a distance when he left the house on his own. It would have annoyed him if it were anyone else, but Ken found it hard to be annoyed with someone as good-natured, competent, and as sharp as Lip.

Lip tossed the card back on the counter and took a muffin for himself, leaning on the counter.

"What do you think about him?" Ken asked uncertainly.

Lip nodded, chewing. "Funny." He turned to the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of milk, and poured two glasses. He passed one to Ken, pointed between the milk and the muffin, and gave a thumbs up.

Ken took a drink. Food was one thing it was easy to communicate with. Having grown up on nothing but unidentifiable gruel, and then not even that, his first meal at Luke and Aki's six months ago had been a revelation. He'd been eating constantly ever since. The others seemed to enjoy giving him new things to try, and he didn't mind the opportunity to interact without having to say much.

Ken's thoughts turned back to Luke. Yesterday had been very strange. He hadn't known Luke was going to die, but it wasn't half as surprising as when David had done it. Luke had only been pretending to be alive, anyway. Was anyone shocked? Did they really believe he had survived his time with Jen? Hadn't they looked him in the eyes? Ken had. He shivered inwardly.

"Dylan's gone," he noted, looking up at Lip. "Is he mad?"

"Yeah, he's mad." Lip looked at his muffin, and for a moment the misery showed on his face. "It's complicated."

There was silence for a few minutes.

Lip's eyes went back to the card. "Careful with this guy," he said. "I don't think he's a threat, himself. But the situation is weird. We're looking into it."

Ken nodded. He knew Kel would be investigating. Whenever Lip didn't know something, Kel seemed to disappear for a while and then when he returned everyone would know everything. Kel was the one who had found out where Ken had come from and how he was connected to Sky.

Ken and Sky had the same parents. That much was true. Ken didn't remember their parents, though, or even if they'd ever met them. He knew that he and Sky had once shared a bed in a large sunny room with many other children. An orphanage, he guessed. But that was a very foggy memory, perhaps from before he could speak. Then he remembered a narrow building with a large basement where children slept on pallets.

There it was a whirlwind of beatings, strangers, heavy bodies and things that left him aching without end. Ken fought them, always. One day, as the woman was trying to lock him in a room with another one of the men who visited in a constant stream, Ken managed to free a hand and jam his fingers into her eye. It was a proud moment, but it didn't end well.

After that he was trussed up, tossed into a van, and driven far from Bucharest. He came close to escaping on that drive, but he was caught, beaten by the side of the road until he couldn't move. At the end of it all he was thrown into a dark and grimy cell underground, and like before, there were men who came. Only these men had crueler urges to satisfy. They had weapons and tools and elaborate fantasies of torture. They came to maim and destroy.

It wasn't long before Ken discovered that he could not die. It didn't exactly make things easier for him.

From that point on, Ken's only link to the outside world was the faint empathic bond he shared with his brother. Sometimes when he was lying alone in his cramped, grimy cage, numb with pain, he'd get the faintest breeze of pleasure from somewhere far away. It was never enough to outweigh the agony, but he savored it all the same. It was the only way to remember what it was like not to be hungry and hurting.

As Ken tumbled further and further into hell, losing his tongue, losing fingers, losing an ear, the only feelings he got from Sky were hints of a strange, thick haze of sluggish euphoria. Now he knew that was the heroin. Back then he couldn't guess.

The day someone tried to gouge out Ken's eyes, it was the first time he tried crying for help. He hadn't known there was anything worse that could happen to him, but the thought of being blinded pushed him into a state of panic. He couldn't really speak, then—they had long ago cut out his tongue—but he _screamed_ across that mental link. To his shock, Sky heard him.

Not only heard him, but soothed him. Ken felt the promise: This was going to end. Sky would come. It was the first hope Ken had ever had. He even stopped fighting his assailant, who moved on and left his left eye intact. Things seemed to be looking up.

But Sky never came.

There was only that haze of pleasure again, until a year later when Sky reached out to him, and renewed that wordless intention to come soon. And still he never came. It went on and on. For years Ken sensed those promises of rescue, rays of hope teasing their way across the indeterminable distance between them. But each time, without fail, Sky would sink back into the haze. He never came. No one did.

One day, Ken woke up in a black garbage bag. His captors must have thought they'd finally killed him. He supposed they had. He remembered wire digging into his throat, a sickening pop, and the sensation of falling backwards. There was no way of knowing how long ago that had been, but in the end, there he was—in an old trash pit at the bottom of a ravine, the world at his fingertips.

First he dug through the rubbish until he found something to wear—shimmering blue pants and a sweater covered in what he now knew were unicorns. Then he climbed out of the pit. He heard the sound of traffic in the distance, and without any destination in mind, headed to the highway. He walked for two days without stopping before he realized he knew where he was going. Later, they would all ask him how. He didn't know. It was like he was following a scent on the breeze.

When Ken arrived at Lip's house, he was astonished. The Talents were unlike anyone he'd ever known, calm and cautious, their appealing faces full of concern. It was Luke who stepped forward and took him away to clean and dress him. He stunned Ken by placing his hands on the worst of his injuries and healing them in a few tingling moments. Ken decided to trust him then, the quiet, sad-eyed boy whose hands erased pain.

Luke was the one who took him to a brightly lit room and coaxed him to sleep, waking him up with the astounding gift of a new right eye, an ear, a mouth, and tongue that worked. They even replaced his missing fingers. "The miracle of science _,_ " Lip had said cheerily. Soon Luke was teaching him to read and write, encouraging him to speak. It was Aki who gave him a name.

Now that Luke was gone and Aki was grieving, Ken knew Sky would be pestering him like never before. Ken wasn't looking forward to it. At least Luke had quietly despised Sky. Ken wasn't sure why, but it had always made him feel better.

Ken was disappointed about Luke, but he hadn't yet experienced enough comfort and pleasure in life to be shocked by tragedy. The only one he worried about was Aki, his very favorite, who wasn't supposed to be suffering. But as long as Ken was there, Aki would be fine. Ken would make sure. Nobody was going to bother him on Ken's watch.

That meant he had to keep an eye on the new guy.

Ken wasn't sure what to make of Jin, except that he was nosy, cocky, and irritating. He wasn't like any of the others. He wasn't like anyone Ken had yet seen, in fact. For some reason the telepath made him think of lightning. Anyway, as long as he kept away from Aki, Ken didn't care if he stayed or went.

# 11. Mark Lets Go

Mark leaned against the wall across from the titanium door leading to Jen's maximum-security tomb at ARSI, staring at the gleaming metal and the discreet lock to the right of the handle. He didn't have clearance. Lip had seen to that. Not that he couldn't get in if he wanted to.

He wasn't in his right mind. He could hardly follow his own thoughts.

Luke was dead.

Jen had killed him.

Mark stared bleakly at the door, imagining her inside. He knew what it looked like. He'd seen her laid in the tube. She would not decay. She would not be damaged. They'd tried to incinerate her. It didn't work. Her cells recovered much faster than they could be destroyed.

Maybe this was all his fault.

No. He was sure it was his fault.

He should have kept the promises he'd made to her fifteen years before, when they were just two love-struck teenagers working as paramilitaries and learning what they were. He should have kept his promises forever. He shouldn't have let her leave him. He should have tracked her down. He never deserved Dylan, anyway—it didn't matter how deep those feelings were. She had come first, and she had _needed_ him.

He should have gone after her. He should have honored the twisted love that had never left his heart. He could have tempered her madness. He could have stopped her from hurting people. Kept her from falling.

And he wouldn't have minded, probably. God. He still loved her.

Luke was dead and he still fucking loved her.

Behind their backs, the ARSI researchers had started to call her The Monster. Mark understood. She was a human-shaped nuclear bomb, and no one knew what death meant for Talents as strong as her. There was never any guarantee that she wouldn't come back to life again.

If she ever did...

"How'd I know I'd find you here?"

Mark turned his head. Dylan had his shoulder propped against the wall several yards away, arms crossed. The startling effect of his beauty never faded. Not for Mark. But now he looked pale and sick. Mark straightened and headed toward him immediately.

"Did you go in there?"

"No," Mark said. "Forget it." He hadn't seen Dylan since Luke had died, and now a rush of sorrow ran through him, gripping his bones from head to toe. He wondered if this could be the final straw for the Irishman. Christ, _Dylan_...

Dylan's expression held reproach, held betrayal. Mark wasn't sure who it was for. Surely for David and Luke, who'd left him as the sole survivor of their sorry family. But surely it was also for Mark, who was here communing with the source of all this misery. Dylan could never understand.

Nor _should_ he. Jesus, Mark disgusted himself. "I'm sorry, Dylan."

"I don't wanna hear it." Dylan's deep green eyes were red-rimmed, with dark circles beneath them. He looked terribly human, and lost, and tired.

Mark wanted to grab him and hold him. He wanted to take him home and pin him to the bed, wrap his limbs around him and let him cry, make love to him, and carry him through this. But he knew he couldn't. This had gone too far. Dylan had lost too much. And Mark had let him down.

"I'm leavin'."

A breath left Mark's chest in a soft rush. He took another, and rubbed his eyes. They tingled. He squeezed them shut, then looked straight at Dylan. "Where are you going?"

"I'm not gonna fuckin' kill myself. So don't worry about it."

"Oh, Dylan, come on..." Mark's chest tightened. How could it have come to this?

"I'm just leavin'."

"I don't want you to."

"Of course you fuckin' don't," Dylan muttered.

Mark shut his mouth and looked down. He couldn't argue with Dylan. Dylan had a right to his feelings. And Mark never did anything except make it worse these days.

"C'mere."

Mark looked at him again, then slowly stepped forward and framed Dylan's face in his hands. For eight years they'd been inseparable. Eight years they'd fought madness, death, and despair. Mark had been happier with Dylan than he'd ever been in his life. Healthier. Safer. They both knew it. So why...

He embraced Dylan in sudden desperation. "Don't go. Dylan, we can..." What? He didn't know what. Only that he didn't want to watch Dylan walk away. Not like this. Not now. Not ever.

Dylan gripped him even tighter, his shoulders trembling. "It's not just this," he whispered at last. "It's not you. I gotta go."

"For how long?"

Dylan shook his head.

Mark made a sound of pain, squeezing him tighter, then pulled back just far enough to take Dylan's face in his hands and cover his mouth with a desperate, searing kiss.

Dylan's fingers dug into Mark's back and he pressed forward, matching his fervor, even pushing him against the wall to take control. It was a kiss of terrible emotion, of unsatisfied longing, regret and grief—all the ineffable torment that had consumed the Irishman over the past two months.

Dylan broke away at last, holding Mark's head between his hands. "You stay the fuck away from her," he whispered fiercely. "Mark." Whatever he saw in Mark's eyes seemed to fill him with dismay, and he dropped his head. "Hopeless son of a bitch."

"I love you." The words were strangled.

Dylan kissed him once more, then pulled away and strode quickly down the hallway, away from Mark, away from Jen. He didn't look back.

#  12. Jin and the Pussycats

Three weeks.

Three uneventful weeks in the realm of the rogue Talents.

Three. Weeks.

Jin lay on his back along Lip's sofa, staring into the bored eyes of the gray cat on his chest. He was holding the thing under the shoulders, moving its front legs to make it dance along to a wordless tune he sang under his breath. "Badum-bum-bum, badum-bum-bum..."

The cat looked as bored as he was. It went along with the routine, limp and sleepy-eyed, staring at Jin like he was an idiot. Puppeteered by Jin, the cat began to gesture in a presidential manner.

"Wait for me in Paris, Jin," Jin intoned in the exaggerated baritone that was his totally inaccurate yet extremely satisfying impression of Jackson. He used to do it whenever Jackson ignored him, sometimes throwing on one of the man's suit jackets and walking around like a robot as he issued mock proclamations until Jackson was irritated enough to either physically remove him, or throw him down and ravish him. He got the latter about two-thirds of the time. "I'll be there ASAP. The Butterscotch Talents will take you in. Don't make any messes. I'm Jackson Gadamer." He raised the cat's arms into the air. It closed his eyes and put its head back, apathetic. "Hail! My dick's bigger than your leg! I sleep on a billion dollars!" Jin jostled the cat a little to accentuate a hearty chuckle. "What did you eat for breakfast today? I had four prime ministers. Where are my hookers?"

The cat blinked slowly at him. "Time to boogie," Jin's Jackson announced, and the cat began to shimmy from side to side.

He caught movement in the corner of his eye and looked quickly to the archway leading to the entry. Ken was standing there, staring blankly at the cat, wearing charcoal jeans and a simple navy sweater that set off his porcelain skin and mismatched green eyes. His gaze moved to Jin's face, cool and unreadable.

Jin hoped he hadn't looked startled. Christ. The kid was always sneaking up. Those goddamn shields! Jin had been trying to get a read on him for the whole _three weeks_ he'd been staying with this rogue band of Talents. No luck. "Hey, friend."

Ken was staring at the cat again. "What's that?"

Jin turned the cat towards Ken. "It's a _cat_ ," he said clearly, ready to explain further.

During a second round of sadistic sex with Ken's ridiculous older brother, Jin had taken it upon himself to dive into Sky's head and find what he could about Ken. Boy, was Sky pissed. There went Jin's booty call. It turned out Sky didn't know much about Ken at all. But Jin did get all the lurid details of their shared history. And it was some juicy shit.

Six months ago, Ken had been honest-to-god _feral_. The kid hadn't known a movie from a muffin. Didn't even know how to talk!

_Fascinating_.

With those impenetrable shields, those razor-sharp and strangely mesmerizing looks, and the fact that his exact Talent was still a mystery, Ken was like something from outer space. The more Jin found out, the more determined he was to sneak in closer and see what other surprises the kid was hiding.

"I know what a cat is," Ken said blandly. "Where'd you get it?"

Jin let the cat go, and pointed at the open french doors. The cat stood up on Jin's chest and stretched. "He wanted to hang out." He looked at the cat and lifted a hand, saluting. "Been a pleasure, Don Gato. Have a sexy evening."

The cat looked dryly at him before hopping down to the floor and sauntering out of the house. Ken's face showed genuine surprise.

Guessing that Ken was wondering if he'd just used his telepathy on the cat, Jin beamed. "Oh, yeah," he lied. "Not just human minds I'm the master of. I get cows to dance in musicals."

Ken snorted softly, then turned and headed for the kitchen.

Jin sat up, astounded. A laugh! Kind of.

This was a breakthrough moment. He jumped up and trotted after the mysterious gremlin, picking up some speed at the last second so he could slide into the kitchen on his socked heels. "What are you making?"

Ken turned from the refrigerator to look at him. His hand was on a package of sliced ham.

"Sandwiches?" Jin boldly joined him at the fridge, opening the door wider to peer inside, sneaking a glance at the smooth, straight neck with its wild patterns of faded scars. It was the closest he'd stood to Ken since the first night he'd jumped out at the kid in that alleyway and introduced himself. He grabbed a jar of mayonnaise and a block of cheese and shoved them at Ken. Ken caught them, blinking, and Jin took out some tomatoes and lettuce. "Anything else?"

Ken looked at him, his face blank, before he turned and put the ingredients on the counter. The sun coming through the skylight danced on his black hair. It was impossibly glossy, like shards of obsidian.

Jin dumped the rest of the materials on the counter and grabbed a cutting board. "How 'bout a knife?"

The kid was appraising him, his fine dark eyebrows quirked just slightly. He seemed to be wondering if Jin was crazy. Then he turned and took a knife from the block on the counter. He handed it to Jin, dangling it by the handle.

"That's how you hand somebody a knife?" Jin clucked in disapproval and took it. He tested the weight, flipped it into the air and caught it as it spun back down. He offered it back to Ken, handle first. "See?"

Ken looked at it, and then turned away to look for something else.

Tough crowd. Jin made fast work of a tomato, rinsed the blade, and started cheerfully hacking off slices of cheddar.

Ken brought two plates and a bag of bread to the counter. He watched Jin slice off neat pieces of the loaf.

"How many slices you want?" Jin asked, noticing that Ken had gotten him a plate. Another breakthrough? Maybe that was a stretch.

"Four."

"What's your favorite food?"

Ken studied him. Jin tried not to show his amusement. It was clear the kid didn't know what to make of him. Jin wondered if he knew the feeling was mutual. At last Ken answered, "French toast." He pushed up his sleeves before reaching for the mayonnaise, revealing the faint maps of scars on both milky forearms. They were as hard to see as the ones on his face, but Jin was looking closely. He was willing to bet those scars continued under his clothes. This kid had been through some shit.

"Good call," Jin said. "I like steak. Steak and potatoes. You ever had that?"

Ken shook his head, spreading the mayonnaise.

"You should. It's real manly."

Ken smiled a little and then cleared his face again.

Jin was about to go on when Ken surprised him with a question. "Is Jackson your boss?"

The telepath raised an eyebrow at Ken. "You could say that," he replied. The answer was a simple yes, but he wasn't in the habit of admitting he had a boss if he didn't have to.

"Where is he?"

_Look at you,_ Jin thought secretly as he appraised the suddenly talkative kid. "I don't know yet."

"What if he doesn't show up?" Ken started constructing his sandwich, piling on the ham.

Jin smirked, though the question wasn't even slightly funny. "I guess you'll have to adopt me."

"Why didn't he just come with you?"

Jin pulled the ham from Ken's end of the counter to start layering it on his own sandwich. "He has a lot of shit to take care of."

"Like what?"

"Why are you so interested?"

Ken looked at Jin and shrugged placidly. He finished making his sandwich and went to pick up his plate. The signal was clear: he wasn't the one who started this interaction, and he didn't care whether it continued.

"He's a senior director," Jin said, taking the bait. "Directors lead teams of Talents. I'm on his team. And he controls most of the business from East Asia down around to India."

Ken left the plate on the counter and picked up the sandwich instead. "What business?"

"KGA business. Espionage, political takeovers, organized crime, things like that. Anything involving big money or big power."

Ken studied him, chewing his sandwich. He raised his brows like he expected to hear more.

Well, well, well. It seemed Jin was making some headway. "All the directors in those countries answer to Jackson. And then there's us, his team. Three of us. We wander around advising and enforcing what the other teams are doing, and we take on any assignments Jackson wants to own."

"So what do you do? Exactly?"

"Jackson's a precognitive. He can see the future."

Ken gave him an odd look.

"What, you've never heard of that?" Jin supposed that made sense. The kid was still learning food groups—he likely hadn't had time or reason to learn all the ins and outs of the Talent taxonomy yet. "It's not as crazy as it sounds. It just means he's a billion times more perceptive than the average genius. He sees the details of the present and analyzes the variables to predict what's going to happen."

Ken looked unimpressed. "Everyone does that."

"Not like a precognitive. You and me, we see the big details. And then Lip, for example, he's a hypercognitive. He can see even smaller details, which means he can analyze situations better, and plan farther ahead." Jin liked how Ken was watching him as he spoke. It made him want to explain things until the sun went down. He went on. "A precognitive is the next level up. Precognitives take in invisible, microscopic stuff. Things the rest of us can't pick up on. A precog's Talent sucks in millions and millions of tiny variables at a time, calculates all ways they could fit together, puts it all in an oven and comes up with a conclusion of what's going to happen. Big, detailed predictions with all kinds of unexplainable nuances. Nostradamus-type shit. And they're always right."

"So why didn't he tell you exactly when he'll be here?"

"He doesn't tell me everything. And you can only make so many predictions at a time."

Ken seemed amused, like he thought this was a poor excuse. It was clear from the look on his face that he didn't see what the big deal was, or possibly found it ridiculous. "And what do you do?"

"I'm a telepath. I can read thoughts and control them. I keep Jackson informed so he can use his Talent even better, and I make people do the things we want them to do." Jin took a bite. "What do you do?"

Ken shrugged blankly, like he had no idea what Jin was asking.

"Are you an empath? Like Sky?"

"Maybe," Ken said peacefully.

Jin smiled a little. Ken made brattiness look so easy it was almost elegant. He liked that. "How'd you get those shields so thick? Must have taken a lot of work."

Ken shrugged again. He finished the first sandwich and picked up his plate, apparently done with the conversation.

"Okay, later." Jin let him go, altogether pleased with the exchange.

They'd be besties in no time.

#  13. Lip and Kel at Work

Lip stepped inside the cool, white, maximum-security vault where the bodies were kept, followed by Kel and then by two ARSI specialists. One was Jack Green, a director of agents. The other was Layla Fowler, a talented biochemist. The Talents favored both for their seriousness and keen interest in researching the nature of Talent. Even so, Lip didn't exactly relish their presence today, and he knew Kel didn't, either. It only made things more surreal, discussing the bodies in an administrative way when everyone was still in mourning.

Plus, no matter how you looked at it, it wasn't normal to look in your friends' caskets all the time to see how their corpses were holding up. Well, maybe it was in some places. But this wasn't a tradition. It was a weird job they had to do, and Lip didn't really like to do it. It was a sad, macabre thing and it sucked. It sucked to tend a crypt full of people who shouldn't have died.

The caskets were sleek steel containers, almost cylindrical in shape, set on steel frames. Jen's was placed as far from Luke's and David's as possible. Lip felt guilty looking at the three silver tubes together in the same room. Aki wouldn't like it. They really needed to figure out an alternative.

Kel took the lead, walking to Luke's casket first. He glanced at Lip before he reached for the lid. There wasn't much in the glance—Kel wasn't known for being emotive—but Lip knew what it meant. They were both sorry Luke was here, and this was miserable.

"Luke O'Reilly," Lip murmured as soon as Luke's emaciated body was revealed. "Twenty-three. Talents were healing and empathy. Cause of death: Exhaustion. Probable psychic components. You're both familiar with his assault by Jennifer Mitchell."

Fowler looked regretful. She'd examined Luke shortly after his return, and he hadn't looked like this.

"You can check for signs of decay and signs of life," Lip said, and Fowler put on a pair of latex gloves. For several moments they watched her check the pulse points, shine a light beneath the eyelids, listen to chest and heart. She went on to check his weight, temperature and skin condition, noting everything aloud and logging it all on her tablet. Jack took notes as well.

"No signs of decay," Fowler confirmed quietly. "No signs of life."

When it was done, Lip closed the casket and rested his hand upon it for a silent moment. He couldn't help it. But then he let his hand fall away and said, "Next."

Kel reached for the lid of David's container and slid it back. This one hurt, too. David had never wasted away like Luke. He looked like they both used to, smoothly beautiful, with dark hair, pale skin, and elegant features arranged in perfect balance. Jesus, they were so young.

Lip set his feelings aside. "David O'Reilly. Twenty-three. Talent was healing himself and others. David was Luke's identical twin. Cause of death..."

Kel chimed in, speaking in his cool, level voice. "Unknown."

Green looked down at David, puzzled. "He looks healthy."

"The story is he willed himself to die," Kel said. "Probable suicide."

Lip nodded, looking down at David and trying not to think outside the parameters of what they were doing. But it was still so hard to accept that David had done this. It was even more difficult to do while gazing at his perfectly undamaged form. It seemed like a sick joke.

Christ, this was a shitty year.

Fowler went through the same process with David as with Luke. When she was done she hugged her tablet loosely to her chest with a thoughtful frown. "If the blood isn't pooling, what is it doing? Without a heartbeat, how can they be frozen in place like this?"

"That's what we want to know," Lip said. "That and a lot more. We want to figure out as much as we can about how this works. I want you to take the lead on it, Dr. Fowler. Monitor these three and find out as much as you can. We need to know what dead means for Talents."

Fowler nodded, clearly pleased with the project. "Then the first thing is to settle on a minimally invasive exam protocol."

Lip nodded emphatically, glad that this was her first suggestion. It meant that she was already engaged with the strange reality of dead Talents. Respecting the body seemed all the more critical when there was a chance, however minute, that the brain inside that body might suddenly wake from the dead.

They closed the lid on David and walked several steps to Jen's container. This time, Lip did the honors. Jen was on her back, like the others, her long, dark red hair twisted loosely to one side. So beautiful it boggled the mind. There was a time when Lip thought he'd never meet a more compassionate, sensitive person or a better friend than Jennifer Mitchell. There was a time when he'd loved her almost as much as Mark did.

Feelings like that didn't just go away. Not even after a betrayal. They just turned painful.

Lip shook his head. This wasn't the time to think like this, as impossible as it was to avoid it. "Jennifer Mitchell. Thirty-two. Talents..." he sighed slightly. "Physical. Healing. Telekinesis. Telepathy. Empathy."

"Are there others like her?" Green asked.

"Not to our knowledge. Most of us here are hybrids, to some extent. Kel and I have physical and cognitive Talents with shades of precognition and mild telepathic abilities. Jen started out a physical Talent, and then she figured out she could heal people. But then she just exploded." Lip shook his head, remembering. "She was about twenty-three when it started. She reached for a beer and it just zipped into her hand. After that she started hearing thoughts. And then the empathy developed."

"It would have been too much for anyone," Kel said quietly.

Lip nodded regretfully. "We taught ourselves almost everything, but we didn't know shit about psychics. And we still don't. But we learned a few things the hard way."

"When you say too much..." Green ventured.

Lip and Kel exchanged a sober look, remembering.

"She tried to tell us," Lip said. "The telekinesis unsettled her. She said there were things growing out of her control."

"We've gathered some intelligence from another Talent-centric agency over the past few years," Kel said. "We've learned a few things from their communications. One is that telepaths struggle to recognize their own thoughts apart from what they hear. They need special training to stay sane, and even then, they're prone to breakdowns. There's nothing to suggest telepathy and empathy have ever occurred at the same time in one Talent. We believe she was overwhelmed."

"If I'm not mistaken," Fowler said, "you mentioned she's been dead before."

Green looked from Fowler to Lip and Kel, nodding intently. They were two of very few top agents who'd been alerted to the issue when Jen's body was brought in, and of course they were keen to hear more.

"That's right," said Lip. "Jen split off from us a few years ago. Contact was sporadic. But she said she had been trying to kill herself. And that no matter what she tried, she kept waking up."

"What did she try?"

"Everything," Kel said flatly.

"Everything," Lip echoed.

"What's the cause of death this time?" Green asked.

"We believe Luke killed her," Lip said. "How, we don't know. But it must have been psychic."

"And who else has come back to life?"

Lip shut the container and nodded toward the door. Only when it was closed behind them did he answer. "A few Talents have come back to life. In fact, David has. You both know their older brother, Dylan. When Dylan first found the twins, David was dead and Luke was alive. They were just teenagers at the time. As Dylan remembers it, David was completely beyond hope. There was decay, in this case—maybe because they were young and undeveloped. But Dylan watched Luke bring him back, right in front of him."

Poor Dylan. Lip wondered where he was now. It was a hell of a shame he couldn't stay and make amends with Aki, but what could anyone say? Sometimes shit got complicated. As unfortunate as it was, Lip didn't blame the Irishman for running away. He'd put on a happy face for a long time, and people had their limits.

"Before that there was Mark," Kel said. "He was twenty-five. Slit his wrists. Jen brought him back."

Both Green and Fowler frowned in surprise.

"Talents have issues," Lip shrugged. "The ones we know, at least. It's a strange thing, psychologically." Would it ever be his time to lose his head? Or Kel's? He wondered. "Anyway, most recently there was Ken. By his account he was murdered and dumped in a ditch, where he later woke up."

"Without intervention?" Green asked.

Lip nodded. "We don't know how this works. In Mark's case, and in David's, they were brought back to life by Talents who had a blend of empathy and healing abilities, and they also had significant healing abilities of their own. We based our understanding on those circumstances, for a while. But both Jen and Ken seem to have come back from death on their own."

"What's Ken's Talent?"

Lip glanced at Green with a welcome trace of amusement. "None of our business."

Green cracked a smile. He had been there when they brought Ken into ARSI for a series of reconstructive surgeries. The kid was memorable. "How is he?"

"He's good," Lip said. And thank God. At least _someone_ was. "Well," he said, reluctantly getting back to business. "That's the state of affairs at the moment."

"I have a thought, Lip," said Fowler. No one at ARSI referred to the Talents by anything but their first names, or in Lip's case, his nickname.

"Yeah?"

The biochemist's tone was delicate. "Would you be opposed to moving Jennifer's container into a high-security holding cell for the time being?"

"Why?"

"Based on my examinations this past month, I don't believe it would do the body any harm to remove it from this environment." Fowler tapped her stylus absently against her tablet, looking uncomfortable. "Maybe this sounds overcautious. But given the recent history between Jennifer and Luke, and the fact that she has been known to come back on her own..."

Lip perceived a hint of sentiment behind the suggestion, and he was glad. It was good to feel like they had people with compassion around. "Dr. Fowler, there's nothing wrong with being overcautious. We trust your judgment, and if you see no issue moving her into a separate cell, I think we'd all be relieved."

Fowler looked satisfied. "Good. Then I'll see to it. I'm sure we can outfit a cell with adequate temperature control, but I presume security is the highest priority."

Jen was on the verge of becoming a legend among ARSI agents in the know. Lip saw no reason to discourage it. Sometimes fear was sensible. The thought of The Monster waking up in their midst was good motivation for training, especially where their minds were concerned. Developing ARSI's mental training strategies for non-Talents was one of Lip's highest priorities. Everyone associated with ARSI was open to threats like KGA and Jen. It was only right to help them find ways to hold their own against psychics. Still, Lip sometimes worried that without actual psychics to train against, the threat was too abstract to engage with. But if they were afraid of Jen, then good.

"I will confirm that suggestion," Lip answered wryly. "Security above all. But with the caveat that I've never seen a security system Jen couldn't get by. And I mean _never_."

"It's too bad," Green said quietly, glancing back toward the vault. "Sounds like she could do some amazing work."

"Yeah. She really could." Working with Jen back in the day was like watching a _Bond_ movie on acid. It wasn't like any of the Talents fell short of extraordinary, but Jen was always on a whole different level. Mark, too, arguably. Nobody could get a mission done like those two. Possibly because nobody _loved_ that shit like they did. If things hadn't gone off the rails, they would have spent the rest of their lives hacking into security systems, crawling through vents, fighting soldiers and security guards and rigging explosives. And fucking, obviously.

Lip had plenty of good memories with Jen, memories that had given him hope during her bad times. It was hard not to think of them as rotten now. After what she'd done to Luke...

"Well," Fowler said, checking the time. "I should get started. Lip, Kel, thank you again for bringing me in on this." A slight pause. "And I'm terribly sorry."

Green nodded. "Very sorry. Please give my condolences to Aki, and to Dylan."

"Thank you, Dr. Fowler. Jack. I will do that."

#  14. Aki is Not in the Mood

Aki stepped out onto the back porch, looking over the modest green lawn with its high, thick hedge to the bright pink and gold sunset. Another day was coming to an end, the twenty-fourth since Luke had died.

He watched the sky for a few minutes, his arms crossed loosely over his naked chest, and half-heartedly considered going through a few forms on the lawn. He hadn't trained since Luke's death. Asano-sensei would not be pleased. But Aki didn't feel like sparring with empty space. He turned and went back inside, going to the built-in cabinet in the living room and opening the drawer where David had always kept his weed. To his bleak not-exactly-amusement, a generous stash was still right where David had left it, neatly stored in a jar beside a glass pipe.

Aki wasn't usually interested in the stuff, but...fuck it. He took the jar and the pipe back out to the porch and dropped into the wooden swing facing the lawn.

The aftermath of losing Luke wasn't as bad as he'd expected. That was to say, his heart hadn't stopped like he'd thought it would.

Sure, Luke had been his reason for existence for two years now. Ever since Aki had fallen in love with the Irishman and devoted his life to the care of his sweet, strange soul, meanwhile cutting ties with family and country.

And, sure, Aki had promised Luke love and protection, sworn it, and then completely failed to stand between him and Jen. Oh, and then gotten Luke back into his arms and promised to make him better, sworn it—only to watch him wilt and die like a cut flower.

Sure! He'd failed so miserably at taking care of Luke that Luke looked to oblivion for peace instead.

Sure, Luke had slipped through Aki's fingers. But, the aftermath wasn't as bad as he'd expected, was it?

Here he was, getting high on the back porch like life went on. Okay, and there was the fact that tears frequently ran down his cheeks without warning. But still. All in all.

He still had Ken. They'd protected Ken.

He exhaled and looked out through the cloud of smoke at the purple-tinted clouds decorating the fiery sky. Behind him, the front door opened and someone crossed the living room, approaching the porch.

"Hey," Sky said.

Aki looked at him, barely moving his head. The blond was dressed, as usual, in casual but elegant designer clothing. Today he wore slate-colored pants that clung to his hips and legs in all the right places, and a deceptively basic blue tee shirt that fit his slim-muscled torso too well to have cost less than a small fortune. The color set off his golden skin and shimmering blond hair. "Hey," Aki mumbled.

Seeing the tears on Aki's cheeks, Sky frowned. "How are you doing?"

"Okay."

"Can I join you?"

Aki nodded and passed him the pipe, knowing Sky would take it. He didn't see the harm. Weed didn't do much to a Talent but dull a few edges for a while. It wasn't like heroin.

"You know," Sky said after taking a hit. "If you ever want to, like, you know, relax a little, or take the weight off for awhile, I can help. With my Talent."

Aki shook his head, stiffening reflexively. He never wanted anyone inside his head again. "Thanks. I'm fine."

Sky nodded. After a moment he said, "I need some help."

Of course, Aki thought dryly. That was exactly what he felt like doing. Helping. He didn't reply.

"You know I don't want Ken hanging out with Jin."

Aki glanced at him, glad he was a little stoned. When Sky talked about Ken, it was bound to get aggravating.

It wasn't malice or deceit that made Sky unlikable, but immaturity, weakness of character, and a total inability to understand when to shut up. His interactions with Ken were a perfect storm of these flaws.

Aki understood how Sky would want to make up for his shortcomings and be a good brother to Ken. That much was sympathetic, even respectable. But what kind of asshole would expect it to be easy? And who could spend five minutes with Ken and think that telling him what to do was the way to win him over?

"But he's always going over to Lip's. And Lip's always letting Jin hang around. Can you maybe talk to him? Ken, I mean?"

Here we go, Aki thought. "Talk to him how? Tell him not to hang out with Jin?" He lifted the pipe to his lips again. "Would I be offering any particular reason?"

"You know I don't trust him. And he's dangerous."

"Nobody else seems to think so."

Sky closed his eyes, his head falling back.

Aki let him sulk, not invested in the conversation.

He had his own theories for why Sky didn't want Jin anywhere near Ken. For one thing, Sky was quietly jealous of anyone who talked to Ken—even Aki. For another, Jin clearly enjoyed riling Sky up, and Aki could easily imagine him stoking the flames between the troubled brothers for sport. Furthermore, Jin read minds. If Ken was right to question Sky's honesty, Jin would be able to expose him.

In short, Aki could see why Sky was panicking, but he wasn't at all convinced that it was about Ken's safety. Besides, given the fact that Ken hadn't even expressed an interest in the telepath, Sky's level of alarm was overwrought.

"Why doesn't anyone take me seriously?" Sky asked Aki then.

Now it was Aki's turn to sigh. "Because," he said, "you act like Ken should just do what you want him to do."

"No, I don't," Sky said, bristling. "But if _you_ had a bad feeling about someone, wouldn't _you_ tell him to stay away?"

Aki looked at him coolly. "We have a different relationship. I've earned his trust. You haven't. And you won't, if you keep getting in his face when you know he has no reason to believe you're looking out for his best interests."

"So I'm supposed to just sit back and let it happen?"

"Let what happen? Let the guy talk to him while he's here? It's not the fucking apocalypse. Ken's not exactly out on his own, Sky. Back off."

Sky frowned, but he didn't retort. Fortunately for Aki, Sky knew his manners when it came to big-name criminals—and back in Japan, Aki's family name had been one of the biggest. It had annoyed Aki at first that Sky deferred to him based on that, but once he realized what a pest the blond was in general, he decided not to complain.

Sky finally spoke again. "I don't want that asshole fucking with his head."

"Yeah, neither do I," Aki said. "I don't think it's an issue."

"But..."

"You know what it sounds like to me? You don't want 'that asshole' hanging around Ken because _you_ don't get to do it."

Sky looked sharply at him.

"Here's my advice: Leave Ken alone."

"Leave him alone? Who's supposed to look out for him, then?"

Aki fixed him with a dark look. Was Sky _kidding_? How could he forget, even for a second, what others had done to look out for Ken? Aki and Luke had given up everything to keep Ken out of Jen's reach. Now Sky was acting like he was Ken's only true ally? It was delusional.

Sky was shrinking subtly before his eyes, reminding him that the blond could pick up on his sudden wave of scorn.

Now he felt guilty. _Damn_ it.

"I'm very tired, Sky," Aki said evenly.

"You're not going to tell him," Sky concluded gloomily.

"I'll pass your message along."

Sky sighed softly. "Thanks." He rose slowly, stood there silently for a moment, and then quietly said, "Aki. It's not that I don't think..." he trailed off and then started again. "I know you've done better than I have. And more."

Aki closed his eyes and rubbed them tiredly. So much for taking the edge off. "I'd really like to be alone right now," he said.

"I'm sorry," Sky mumbled. It was clear he meant it. That was the infuriating thing about the stupid son of a bitch. He had just enough self-awareness to hate himself with a fury that got even Ken to pity him—but only after the damage had been done. The cycle got old.

Left alone, Aki slumped down on the wooden swing until he could rest his head in the crook of his arm at one end.

He dreamed of Luke.

They stood in dark, waist-deep water, surrounded by black sky. It was silent. Dead silent. No sound of breathing, no sounds from the water.

Luke's wet skin was smooth. Aki's arms and hands kept slipping.

There was no sound as Luke sank under, slowly shrinking, fading into the depths, his terrified eyes locked on Aki's.

There was nothing but chilling quiet, no matter how hard Aki screamed.

A whisper broke the silence. " _Aki_."

Aki jerked awake, breathing hard. Ken was crouched in front of him, his hand on Aki's shoulder. It moved to his face, gently brushing his hair from his damp brow.

"Come on." Ken tugged his arm until he got on his feet, then awkwardly, sweetly embraced him.

Aki was trembling, his heart pounding. He wrapped his arms around Ken, squeezing him tighter than he meant to.

But he had to hold tight, or else...

"Let's watch a movie," Ken whispered tentatively.

Aki nodded, waiting for his chest to relax, his heart to slow its violent pace. Right then, he never wanted to sleep again.

#  15. Two Guys and a Heavy Bag

Mark's punching bag was on its last leg. It was special issue, specifically engineered to withstand the force of Mark's blows, but it was likely there was nothing sturdy enough to handle Mark's routine when he had something on his mind. And he did.

Jen. Luke. Aki. Dylan. Jen. Luke. Aki. Dylan. Jen. Luke. Dylan. Aki. Jen.

Mark pummeled the heavy bag with abandon, feeling the thick leather soften and stretch, the bonding materials disintegrating a little more with each merciless blow, until the thing sagged so badly it was no longer satisfying to strike it.

Mark dropped his hands to his sides, his breathing only slightly accelerated, and that was likely from frustration rather than exertion. He shoved the deflated bag, scowling.

"Looks like an old man's ball sack."

Mark turned to find Lip in the doorway. "Hey," Mark said quietly, glad to see him.

Lip looked absently around what had once been a modest suburban gym. They'd bought the place for their own use and tossed most of the equipment into storage, replacing it with the specially designed devices they needed to work out with, like Mark's supposedly destruction-proof heavy bag.

Lip smirked mildly at him. "You look troubled, mate. What could possibly be on your mind?"

Mark returned his look. "Nothing in particular."

"Right." The Australian bounced a little on the balls of his feet. "Fancy a go, young Marximus?"

Stupid question. There was never a time when he did not want to spar.

Lip made him work for over a half an hour, focusing on all of Mark's weak spots. He didn't know what he'd do if he didn't have the other Talents to challenge him. Mark nearly always won, but Lip and Kel knew how to make him sweat. No one but Jen had ever really dominated him in combat. Aki showed signs of being able to. And he was twenty-four, almost eight years younger than Mark. Mark fully expected Aki to surpass him in time. Couldn't wait for it.

Of course, that was before. That was assuming Aki could ever get back in that kind of shape after what had happened to his mind, his body and his Talent.

As Lip dizzied him with weird Australian street fighting moves and Mark shifted into a rhythm of attack, he finally got a break from those thoughts. They sparred for thirty minutes, taking it all over the training room, climbing and leaping over equipment and staying on each other as if they were going to the death. Lip even brought in a few weights and bars as weapons, because Lip was a damn good friend.

They finally called it good when Lip got thrown to his back on the mats and decided to stay there. Mark clapped him on the chest in thanks and sprawled out beside him, relieved for the time being.

"Kel got some dirt on the KGA situation," Lip announced once he'd caught his breath, and sat up. "Wilhelm Strauss _has_ taken over. And he's sent out agents to look for Jin."

"Yeah?" Mark sat up, too.

"But Jackson Gadamer's still there." Lip held out his arm and idly curled and uncurled his bicep, inspecting the firm muscle. "Sitting on the Board, in fact."

Mark looked at him, surprised. "What does that mean?"

"Well, Kel believes Jin's story. So do I. So I guess it means Jackson hasn't found an out yet."

"Could he be screwing Jin over?"

Lip grimaced and shook his head. "It's not the most likely scenario. Jackson probably knows where Jin is. If he'd sold out, he would have told them by now. And he's got to be taking serious shit for losing a telepath."

Mark rolled his neck thoughtfully. "You told Jin?"

"Kel's telling him."

"Suppose Jackson cracks in there and tells them where Jin is. Should we move?"

"I don't think Jackson Gadamer's the type to crack," Lip said slowly. "The man seems to have a plan. But I dunno. We should be ready to. And we should definitely be prepared for KGA agents sniffing around. Everybody needs to make sure they're staying quiet."

"Guess we'll be working overtime for awhile," Mark said.

"Yeah," Lip said. A moment later he added, "Too bad Dylan won't be around to help."

Mark looked at the ceiling, frowning.

"Don't worry. I don't wanna talk about it either." Lip sighed, reaching up to rub one tan shoulder. "Man. Things weren't too bad for a good six months there, were they?" He cracked a rueful grin.

Mark found it in himself to smile back. "Maybe we can do it again in another five years," he said wryly. He'd never understood how Lip kept his feet so firmly on the ground. In the nine years they'd known each other, Lip had never broken down, lashed out, or even gone on a real bender. Sure, he had sad spells—he grieved as deeply as anyone—but he had them with dignity.

Mark had tried harder to learn from him in recent years, only occasionally succeeding. He'd gotten better as he'd gotten older, but when things got really rough, Mark's natural instincts still led him to his old shadow world of sex, death and self-destruction.

"I better get back to the house," Lip said, climbing to his feet. "They're probably lobbing grenades at each other by now."

Mark smirked. "Sky and Ken?"

"Not yet, but I feel it coming." Lip shook his head, looking exasperated but a little amused. "It's Jin, mate. I think we're in for it."

"What do you mean?"

"Somethin' about him and Sky. I think the napalm's already falling. Just hasn't hit us yet."

"Never a dull moment." Mark got up. "I'm gonna go out."

"On the prowl, huh?"

Mark shrugged, holding out his hands with a helpless look.

"Hey. You do what you gotta do, mate." Lip sighed, twisting to stretch his waist. "See you tomorrow. We gotta catch Kel before he heads out."

Mark bid him off and hit the shower.

#  16. Ken Learns Something

Ken sat in the corner of the coffee shop, scowling at his bottle of orange juice.

He could feel Sky gearing up for a fit. It was times like this he wished he could really find a way to kick Sky out of the country. The link they shared was a pain in the ass, and Sky was the only person Ken couldn't seem to keep out of his head. When Sky was in a decent mood, or when he was stoned, Ken didn't have to feel him. But when he got worked up over something, it was like there was a faint, infuriating whine in the background of every waking second.

Aki had passed on Sky's message, so Ken knew what it was all about. And it pissed him off. The nerve Sky had, to try and tell Ken what to do _again_. And even worse, it was only a matter of time before Sky did it to his face.

Ken picked up the nature magazine he'd grabbed from the rack near the door. The cover showed two strange, sleek animals— _dolphins_ —floating in sparkling turquoise water. Ken started flipping through the pages slowly, examining each advertisement and line of text.

A light shadow fell over the table, and he looked up in time to see Jin pull out the chair opposite him and sit down. The telepath gave him a big, mechanical grin. He'd dyed his hair again. It was now a dark blood red.

Ken glowered.

"I know what you're thinking," Jin announced.

"No, you don't," Ken retorted. "Go away."

Now that Ken had to think about Sky's weird fixation on Jin, he was certain there was no way the telepath didn't know exactly what he was doing. He was trying to rile Sky up. That was the only explanation for why he was always staring at Ken, trying to get him to talk and trick him into hanging out.

"Rude." Jin pulled out a cigarette.

"No smoking. Go outside."

"I'll give you a hundred euros if anybody tries to stop me," Jin said. He seemed less cavalier than usual, glancing around with a slight scowl. "Tell me, handsome. What's a guy gotta do to find some trouble around here?"

Ken sighed irritably and tossed his magazine on the table. "Leave me alone."

Jin leaned back in his chair, lifting his chin to smirk at Ken. "Your brother tell you to say that?"

Ken narrowed his eyes.

Jin picked up the magazine and started to flip through it. "You ever seen the ocean?"

"Duh."

The telepath glanced at him with a flash of amusement, before making a face of disgust at the next page. He tossed it down. "Look at that."

Ken glanced down, not quite understand what he saw. It looked like a big field of mud at the edge of a bay. Rocks and a few unidentifiable shapes stuck out of it, dripping muck and seaweed. A few people were shin-deep in the mud, carrying buckets. Small white letters in the corner of the page read _Minus tide_.

"Doesn't that freak you out?"

Ken forgot to ignore him, trying to figure out the picture. He shrugged.

Jin exhaled a plume of smoke and leaned over the table, turning the page sideways so they could both look. He pointed one slim finger at the fine print in the corner. "Minus tide. See? Once in awhile the tide goes out so far you see all the rocks and junk that usually stays underwater. Shit freaks me out."

Ken leaned a little closer, inspecting the picture. "What's a tide?"

"Tide," Jin said. "It's about gravity. You know gravity?"

Ken shook his head, looking at him and waiting for an explanation.

The telepath grinned at him. It wasn't like the smile before. This one was surprisingly relaxed and genuine.

It threw Ken off a little. He watched Jin reach out to lift Ken's bottle of juice an inch off the table and drop it back down with a clunk. "Everything falls down on its own, right? Not up. Not sideways." He lifted the magazine and dropped it, then lifted his hand and dropped it to the table.

When Ken nodded, Jin continued, "That's from gravity. It's a force from the Earth that pulls us toward the center."

He went on to explain the gravity of the sun and the moon, and how the moon pulled at Earth as it spun around and caused the oceans to bulge and shift.

"Oh," Ken said. After a moment he asked, "Only the water?"

Jin was about to say more, but then his blue eyes sharpened. He looked out the window, his face smoothing out.

Ken studied him curiously. He looked like a different person without the smirk, serious and intense. In fact, he looked a little dangerous.

"Stay here," Jin said, straightening up.

"What?"

"I gotta go kill somebody. Bee are bee." He was up and walking out of the coffee shop, gone in seconds.

Ken squinted after him. Bee are bee? What did that mean? He turned around to watch through the window as Jin quickly crossed the street. The telepath moved like a cat or something, quick and light, like his feet barely touched the ground. As Ken watched, he disappeared into a narrow space between two buildings.

Curious, Ken got up and walked out of the café. He was stopped outside the entrance by Kel, who was waiting on the sidewalk.

"Hi," Ken said, surprised. The tall, dark man never bothered him for no reason.

Kel nodded in greeting and then cocked his chin slightly in Jin's direction. "Don't follow him."

"Why not?"

"Someone's here looking for him. He's got to throw them off the trail." Kel's dark eyes always seemed completely unaffected. It was like he had no emotions to speak of. He only spoke when he had to answer a question or share something important, and his words were always clear and efficient. Ken liked it. It was cool. And once in awhile, Kel's eyes showed just a tiny bit of amusement at something he said, and he felt kind of proud.

"What does 'bee are bee' mean?"

"'Be right back.'" Kel's eyes were still pointed in Jin's direction. He looked back at Ken. "I'm taking you home."

Ken nodded. He liked riding on motorcycles, especially with Kel, whose driving was a little more exciting than Lip's. As he fell in step beside the taller man he asked, "Are we in trouble?"

"No. Just to be safe."

"Are they looking for us, too?"

"They would be, if they knew we existed."

"We can just give them Sky if they find out."

Kel glanced at him with an almost-smirk and handed him a helmet before straddling the bike. Ken got on behind him, smiling behind the dark visor. At least today wasn't boring.

#  17. Shopping with Lip and Ken

There were no grenades being lobbed when Lip got back to the house. There was only Ken, sitting peacefully on the couch, watching a travel documentary on TV. The kid had been watching a lot of TV, and even though he never visibly reacted to what was on the screen, Lip could almost see him filing and sorting everything he saw, methodically catching up with the world he'd been cut off from all of his life.

Small piles of books appeared around the house, too, most pulled from David's collection. David and Ken had never bonded closely, but David had made several helpful gestures after Ken showed up. He gave him an old iPod full of music to explore, bought him stacks of books at increasingly difficult reading levels, and invited him to peruse everything he owned. It was poignant, now, to see Ken reading David's books, listening to his music, absorbing the Irish boy's offbeat tastes—everything from jazz history to feminist theory to essays on workers' movements.

David had always been unusual among them for his interest in other people. Dylan was similar. Once upon a time, Mark, Lip, Jen and Kel had made friends outside of their strange circle, but when things got real in their twenties, that kind of casualness had fallen away. Part of it was the troubled times, from the collapse of the paramilitary organization that had drafted them as teenagers, to the matter of Jen and Mark losing their minds. The O'Reillys, though, were never as bound to that strange, insular life. The Irish brothers had no interest whatsoever in the work the others did, and were much more inclined to experience the world as other people lived it. The twins had even gone to high school in Paris, and David, to the delight of the others, attended a university.

Jesus, he'd been so _vibrant._ So much like Dylan with his easy laughter and dazzling smiles, and so brilliantly thoughtful. Cynical, but always with humor. Not like Luke, who had always seemed haunted, even when he was happy. David had been so sharp and alive. God knew the O'Reillys had suffered in life, but he'd been so bloody _tough._

It was disorienting to wonder how long he had secretly wanted to die.

Never mind. Not now.

Ken looked up from the TV when Lip appeared.

"Hey, mate." Lip thought for a moment. "Wanna hit the supermarket?"

Ken nodded, turned off the TV and stood up.

"I heard Kel picked you up earlier," Lip said once they were on the road. "You were havin' coffee with Jin?"

Ken frowned, even casting him a sour glance. "Orange juice. He was just there."

"I think he likes you."

The scowl that took over Ken's face was so intense Lip couldn't help laughing. It was good to laugh.

"I think," Ken said, his low voice rumbling with displeasure, "he likes messing with Sky."

"Yeah, you're right there. Pretty sure it's a combination of both." Lip glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Sky been givin' you shit?"

Ken's expression wasn't as amusing now. He glared darkly ahead, crossing his arms. For a moment it wasn't clear whether he'd reply, but then he grated out, "He asked _Aki_...to tell _me_...to _stay away_...from _Jin_." It was clear each part of this sentence was its own particular kind of offense.

"Jesus," Lip sighed. Didn't Sky have a shred of common sense? "I know he's worried about Jin havin' some kind of ulterior motive."

"So?"

"I know. He shouldn't be tellin' you what to do."

"Or Aki."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it like that." Lip paused, cautious. "The guy's a disaster, but he's tryin' to show he cares about you."

Ken said nothing.

"Yeah, I know. He should back off. But that concept goes right over his head." Lip thought for a moment. "I don't think he gets how people work. How to get along."

Ken scoffed quietly.

"Yeah, that should be your excuse, not his." Lip shrugged. "I dunno."

For having been raised in a cage, Ken was uncannily self-possessed. Awkward, uncertain, and always on guard, but also sharp and intuitive. Although sometimes he was clearly dismayed by how little he knew compared to everyone else, at the same time he gave off an aura of complete self-sufficiency, of not needing anything or anyone but himself to survive. In fact, he seemed less like an orphan in their care than like some strange alien observer in their midst, watching them all and making notes in his head.

When they stepped into the supermarket, Ken brightened subtly. The kid loved food. It was always gratifying to watch his eyes comb over everything and to see what he picked up. The first few times he'd only stared, but after a few trips he started to ask questions and put things in the cart. Lip had never had the slightest inclination toward grocery shopping until he'd brought Ken to a supermarket.

They strolled the aisles in near silence, broken only when Lip explained what something was.

"Watermelons," Lip said when he saw Ken's eyes settle on a pile of them. "They're red inside, crunchy and soft at the same time. Sugary."

Ken reached out and lifted the biggest one, testing the weight. "Does Aki like watermelons?"

"Yeah."

"He's not eating."

"All right. Let's make him dinner." ARSI business could wait. "He'll eat if you help make it."

Ken glanced at him and then nodded. The watermelon went into the cart. The kid was fully aware of how important he was to Aki. How could he not be, after what had happened? The endearing thing was how fiercely protective Ken was of Aki in return.

The fact was, no one thought Aki was going to wake up from that coma but Ken, and Lip was fairly certain Ken was the reason he had—though it wasn't clear what, if anything, Ken had actually _done_ to make it happen. But anyway, those two had each other's backs. And that was a welcome thought, because they both deserved that.

Overcome by a swell of affection, Lip reached out and gently ruffled his hair. "Glad you're here, mate." Rather than make Ken come up with a response to that, Lip pointed toward the greens. "Spinach. Aki loves spinach."

#  18. Blood on the Tracks

An hour north of Calais, just after ten at night, Jin finally swatted the fly. Setting up a believable, untraceable death for KGA agent Paul Renault was no simple task, but Jin was pissed off and bloodthirsty enough to pull out his big guns and make it happen.

Under normal circumstances KGA could track anyone down given the time, even a telepath. They had plenty of psychics to do the job. But Jin had too much going for him at the moment. First, he had been the most brilliantly Talented telepath at KGA outside of the Board. Second, he'd been mentored by Jackson Gadamer. Third, his already formidable shields had just been reinforced by the protective techniques of the Butterscotch Talents in Paris. And fourth, he was just a sneaky motherfucker.

Renault was a competent but inexperienced empath, and he hadn't picked up on Jin in Paris. Jin had skillfully nudged him out of the city on a false trail, riding the train with him all the way to Calais. There, at Calais Ville Station, Jin orchestrated a perfect comedy of small catastrophes beginning with a woman who tripped and tumbled into another woman on the platform, sparking a brawl between two groups of young toughies.

When one produced a gun, chaos erupted and a stampede of commuters and backpackers swarmed the exits. People were pushing and shoving dangerously close to the edge of the platform, but it was Renault who got a bullet in the neck and tripped onto the tracks.

For some reason, no one saw fit to help him up. And somehow, the strangely inattentive driver of the incoming train failed to hear any emergency message from the stationmaster.

_Squersh_.

Jin looked on from his perch atop a covered trashcan, glowering, as the mob went insane. Normally this kind of thing would have him in high spirits. He usually loved intricate stunts like this. It was kind of like playing a drum solo.

Not today.

Jin flicked his cigarette into the throng and hopped off of the trashcan, parting the crowd for himself. He made sure no one noticed him, knowing KGA would be back to scan all witnesses to confirm that the death had been an accident.

On his way out of the station, he muttered a few of his favorite profanities and kicked over a bicycle at the end of a row, sending them all crashing down like dominos.

Jackson was still at KGA.

Motherfucker.

How was it, exactly, that Lip had more information than he did? Was that part of Jackson's stupid plan? Was Jin supposed to stick to that plan knowing Jackson was sitting at that fucking table with Strauss? How the hell was that happening? Since when did Strauss want anything to do with Jackson that didn't involve challenging his status and undermining his power?

Was he holding Jackson hostage?

Jin was stalking down the road, fire in his eyes now that work was done and he had time to think. He felt like seeing some real blood. Train casualties didn't fucking count. He needed to knife some guts, bash some heads.

_No messes,_ Jackson echoed in his head. _You need their trust. Stay in Paris and be good._

Jin growled to himself. Shady son of a bitch. He'd had six years to get used to Jackson's counterintuitive brilliance, the way his plans defied logic at every step only to come out fine every damn time. But it never really got easy to have his faith tested, even though he couldn't count how many times he'd felt like this.

_Kind_ _of_ like this. Not _like this_. Not with everything hanging in the balance.

How long had they been plotting to free themselves of KGA?

And now Jin was out in the cold wilderness of liberty by himself, hearing Jackson was back inside those walls, right within reach of Strauss's hatred, his awful Talent.

That wasn't the plan.

"Cocksucker," Jin muttered, shaking his head. He made a deal with himself. If Jackson came through this time, he would never doubt him again.

And if Jackson didn't come through, Jin would...

He'd think about that later.

The telepath stopped on the corner of a busy intersection, scowling. It wasn't secure here. He had to get back to Paris. Shit, he wanted some violence so bad it made his fingers ache. He wondered if he could get Sky to entertain him. The blond was pretty fuckin' pissed, though, since Jin had gone in and soaked up all his secrets.

Jin shook his head again, remembering what he'd heard. No wonder Ken couldn't stand Sky. It was astounding that Sky thought anyone in his right mind would ever be happy to see him after being left to rot in some snuff film warehouse while he gorged himself on heroin and gangster balls. Pathetic little shit. No wonder he didn't want Jin getting friendly with Ken. There was no knowing what else Jin might be able to tell him.

Ken's face flashed in his memory. They'd gotten pretty cozy back there in the coffee shop, if he did say so himself. When Ken had leaned in to look at the magazine, Jin had the chance to get a closer look at his scars. But he got a little distracted by the surprisingly smooth texture of his skin, the sculpted edge of his cheekbone and the slight dip of his cheek where it curved down to the neat corner of his mouth. And those thick, dark, feathery lashes.

What the fuck?

Jin shook his head, still confused by the way Ken held his attention.

Anyway, yeah. Sky was probably out of the picture for a while. Whatever. There was only so much pouting and sniveling one could put up with in the name of a good lay, even one from Sky. Besides, he'd been meaning to get around to Mark. If physical Talent was good for one thing, Jin knew well what it was.

Jin strolled into the street and commandeered a sleek black motorcycle, sending the original driver off to the fast food joint across the street with a serious craving for french fries. He revved the engine, eager to get out of town and onto the highway where he could hit some high speeds on the way back to Paris. A joyride and a good fuck—that ought to take his mind off of things.

The light turned green.

#  19. Mark Sees Redhead

Mark sat at the corner of the bar in Le Poisson, a discreet jazz bar with no shortage of dark corners and velvet upholstery. It was attached to an historic hotel popular with artists and visiting celebrities with indie credibility. A handsome older man was playing softly on a saxophone to one side, and dozens of impeccably styled, serious-looking hipsters lounged in the mix of wooden tables and comfortable love seats.

Idly turning his tumbler of scotch on the bar top, Mark let his eyes wander over the crowd. There was no question he'd be taking someone upstairs. He didn't care if it was a man or a woman. It was just a matter of choosing one. Or more than one, if the chance came up.

A woman entering the bar caught his eye. She was slim and lovely, with creamy skin and bright scarlet hair. Mark watched her take a seat down the bar, admiring the firm curves of her body, the way her dark chiffon blouse skimmed her high, round breasts and set off that fiery hair.

The desire slithering through his bones was excessive, and he averted his eyes, bending his head to light a cigarette.

No. Definitely not allowed. No Jen lookalikes—that was a rule he tried to follow. Of course, he slipped occasionally, but now was not the time. Not with Luke still fresh in the grave, Dylan tumbling into the distance, Aki staring dully at nothing. No. Now was not the time to indulge his feelings for The Monster.

Fortunately, it didn't take long to find an alternative. Soon enough he was headed for the lift with a hazel-eyed model with long chestnut hair and a clever, girlish face. She had hungry eyes that moved tirelessly over him as they waited to ascend, and he was already getting hot imagining how greedy she'd be once he got her alone.

Then, as the doors opened and he started to lead her in, she stopped. Mark turned back to her, curious.

The interest had completely disappeared from her face.

"Um," she murmured in her warm, husky voice. "You know what? I'm not feeling so well."

Mark stared at her for one blank moment, then remembered his manners and stepped back out of the lift. "You okay?" he asked, concerned. This had never happened. Maybe her appendix was failing.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I think I'll just go back and sit for a while. I'm very sorry."

"No worries," Mark murmured, and watched her disappear, stunned.

A melodic, teasing male voice came from behind him, dancing on a laugh. "Your face..."

Mark turned and stared at the telepath down the hall, quickly putting the pieces together. The son of a bitch was standing there in tight black jeans and a gray shirt with the sleeves pushed up, his hair newly dyed a deep crimson that highlighted his dark eyelashes and pink lips. He looked like a rock star, complete with faint under-eye circles and a sly gaze that crackled with sex. But more importantly, he'd just telepathically cock-blocked Mark.

"Don't take it so hard," Jin said as he sauntered closer. "Happens to regular people all the time."

Mark held his hands out, royally annoyed. "And why did it need to happen just now?" He hadn't had a chance to talk to the telepath much. Quite an impression the kid was making.

"'Cause." Jin hit the button to open the elevator doors again. "I need it more than she does." He caught Mark around the waist and pulled him into the lift, pressing his hips forward and tilting his face up. "If you thought _she_ was horny..." he purred.

Mark frowned mildly, not sure this was a wise idea, but reached behind the telepath to hit the button for his floor.

Fuck it.

He pushed the other man back against the doors and slid his palms up his chest and neck to hold his face still. "That was very rude," he murmured, letting his lips come within an inch of Jin's and holding the younger man back when he strained forward.

_"Da_ ," Jin replied, his pearly teeth gleaming in a wicked smile. "Guess I don't know my place sometimes." He arched away from the doors to get his body against Mark's with a serpentine roll of his spine.

In the back of his mind, Mark supposed he ought to have some time observing the telepath before ending up in this position, but tonight he was not in the mood to care. And if the kid wanted to be fucked bad enough to sabotage Mark's other prospects, Mark could indulge him. Besides, the way Jin was taunting him, it looked like they were in the mood for the same kind of thing.

The elevator chimed and came to a stop, and Mark stepped back just in time to let the telepath straighten as the doors opened. Jin turned and went down the hallway, propping a shoulder next to the door as Mark used the key card and followed him in.

Mark put a hand to the small of his back, and pressed him towards the bed. He stripped the telepath's shirt off without turning him around, then grabbed him by the hips and pulled him backwards to get at his belt.

"What are you, one of those hookers who don't kiss on the mouth?" Jin taunted him, and a moment later Mark whipped him around and seized his mouth in a brutal kiss. Jin grunted happily as he was shoved onto his back, lifting his hips to let Mark get rid of his shoes, socks, and pants. "You gonna keep all those muscles to yourself?"

Mark pulled off his own shirt, smirking at the spike of lust in Jin's eyes. The Russian sat up on his elbows, hungrily watching Mark undo his belt. He made a low, pleased sound when he saw the bulge tenting his boxer briefs, moving forward on his knees to grab the back of Mark's thigh and press a hot, wet kiss to the inside of his hipbone where it jutted above the shorts. He grasped the waistband, reaching inside with the other hand to pull out Mark's stiff cock. Jin let out a breath. "You better be a fuckin' top," he moaned before dragging his tongue from base to tip.

Mark exhaled, his fingers combing through Jin's hair as he teased him with his lips and tongue. Neither of them seemed interested in taking it slow, and that was fine. He groaned sharply, his head falling back, when Jin wrapped his wet lips around the tip and took him down.

The telepath worked him furiously for a few minutes, then rose up on his knees and grabbed a firm handful of Mark's hair. Mark pushed him back, pinning him to the bed and dragging his underwear down his hips. He worked his mouth downward, sucking and nibbling, teasing and tormenting each nipple on his way to the rigid erection jutting from between Jin's hips.

"Fuck," Jin hissed, rocking his hips, and threw his head back when Mark got started. "Fuck," he moaned, his voice breaking like he hadn't expected it to be this good.

Mark was used to that. Everyone expected it to be _good_ , but they never seemed quite prepared for the experience. What could he say? His body was his Talent. The troublemaker was grinding on his fingers now, hissing lewd encouragements, and Mark reached for the condoms and lube in the nightstand—the hotel's way of nurturing its young and beautiful patrons.

Jin grew impatient with preparations, glaring lustfully up at Mark and bucking his hips with a demanding noise. Mark didn't resist. A moment later he was pushing inside, his own groan of pleasure outdone by Jin's. He held the telepath by his narrow hips, earning a ragged cry with each precise thrust.

The stunt with the model was definitely forgiven. Jin fucked like a wild demon.

The telepath wanted it rough, and Mark was more than ready to indulge him. He threw Jin around a bit, biting and pulling whenever the younger man provoked him, finally bending him over the dresser near the bed and driving into him so hard the other man's feet came off the floor.

He felt the muscles in Jin's lower body tightening up, saw his shoulders shaking, and reached around to take his leaking cock in hand. Jin came moments later, screaming and throwing his hips back as the pleasure raked through his body.

Mark clenched his teeth, riding out the intense contractions gripping his dick for as long as he could before letting go with a rough cry. He gasped, arching over Jin's shuddering back as the tension streamed from him in pulsing waves. He slowly relaxed, feeling his lips meet Jin's shoulder blade and planting a drunken kiss there.

The telepath moaned, and melted against the furniture.

Mark pulled him up and deposited him on the bed, then fell on his back beside him. He took a moment to catch his breath, then sat up to remove the condom.

"Putting a star next to _your_ name," Jin mumbled.

Mark lit a cigarette and tossed the pack to Jin. "How'd it go today? You got him, I assume."

_"I_ didn't," Jin said pleasantly. "Train did. Very messy." He turned himself around and flopped on his back with his head near Mark's thigh, looking up at him.

"Too bad about your director getting waylaid."

Jin's face darkened for a moment, then cleared. "The day he doesn't have a plan, we're all fucked. He's got a plan."

Mark studied him, wondering.

Sharp-featured and slim, the telepath had a chameleon quality to him. When he was serious, his face had an elegant beauty with a cool, hard edge. But in his usual state there was a wicked, fey quality to him, an almost tangible aura of mischief. And when he was tired, as he had been when he first arrived, he looked very young. Mark placed him in his early twenties, but it was hard to tell with Talents past that—and didn't most telepaths burn out by their twenties?

"Twenty-two," Jin clarified. "Two years past my expiration date."

"What's your secret?"

"Speaking of secrets," Jin said, cocking an eyebrow and pausing for a drag. "Not much for privacy, are you?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know what. Your friends are all sealed up, but your head's clear as a fuckin' radio."

Mark smirked. It was true he used shields unconventionally, but Jin was wrong if he underestimated them. What the telepath heard, however free and careless it seemed, was meticulously edited. There wasn't a category of information left in view that Mark wasn't aware of.

Still, outside of protecting critical intelligence regarding Jen or ARSI or the other Talents, Mark had never quite learned to give a shit about hiding his personal thoughts. There were so few telepaths, anyway, and he didn't particularly care what they knew, or thought.

"Rock n' roll," Jin drawled.

After a moment, Mark said, "Doesn't mean I like feeling you sift through it."

Jin shrugged sweetly. "Too bad." He pulled on the cigarette for a moment. Then he changed the subject. "So, how do you goodie-goodies put up with that silly little hooker?"

Mark leaned back on his hands, measuring Jin with a look, and shrugged. There was the snide tone he'd glimpsed before. He had a feeling there was much, much more where that came from. If he was on his best behavior, what was he like the rest of the time?

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Jin hummed. "I'm not as bad as him, that's for fuckin' sure."

"What's so bad about him?"

Jin grimaced. "Come on." He rolled off the bed and stood up for a long stretch. "I bet he drives the kid crazy."

"That's true." Mark watched Jin gather his clothes. "What's he got against you?"

Jin held the cigarette in his teeth as he pulled up his jeans, grunting at the question. "We did a job for his master. Guy loaned him to us for entertainment. He liked it too much."

Mark didn't buy that explanation for a second.

"Suit yourself," Jin laughed, "but I don't usually lie." He stuck his cigarette in a potted plant and pulled on his shirt. "Well, Mark, it's been an honor." His eyes moved appreciatively over Mark's body again. "You've got my number."

"Stay out of trouble."

Jin snorted. "Fuck off. I wouldn't wish that on you." With that, he swaggered out into the night.

Not a minute after Mark finished showering, there was a knock on the door. There in the hallway, smiling sheepishly, was the green-eyed model with the chestnut hair.

Mark guided her in and closed the door behind her, shaking his head in amusement. Jin either had good manners, good politics, or a strange sense of humor. Mark filed the question away for later.

# 20. Sky Makes a Mess

On TV, hordes of crabs were scuttling through an island town. Ken grimaced, mesmerized, as the mic picked up their weird clicking noises. Gross. He reached for another potato chip.

Sky caught him by surprise this time. Usually Ken felt him coming from miles away, but now the blond was coming into the house without warning—which meant he'd made the effort to get here quietly. Ken shot him an accusing look.

"You've been avoiding me," Sky said with a helpless shrug. He looked between Ken and the TV, then crossed the room and sat in the chair near Ken's feet.

Ken watched him, eyes narrowed. He reached for the remote and turned up the volume, just in case Sky started talking.

"Can I have a chip?"

Ken lifted the bag and flung it neatly at Sky's chair without looking at him.

"Thanks." Sky took a single chip and then set the bag near Ken again.

The crabs were crossing the highway now, headed for the beach. The cars rolled over them, making awful crunching sounds that made Ken wish he didn't need to have the volume so loud.

"Why are they doing that?" Sky asked.

Ken sighed. After a moment he muttered, "Migration." Obviously.

"I was thinking," Sky said. "Would you ever think about going to school?"

Ken shrugged. He wasn't fooled by the small talk. He turned up the TV even more, steaming as he waited for Sky to say what was really on his mind. Sky never, ever came around without a hidden goal. With Ken it was always something he wanted Ken to do or say. Some kind of approval or agreement that Sky wanted and didn't know how to earn, but thought he could get by acting a certain way.

This time, Ken knew, what Sky wanted was to warn Ken to be careful, because Jin was dangerous. But the obvious truth was that Sky was afraid of what Jin might say about him. Why couldn't he just admit it? Lip openly complained about feeling "awkward" with a telepath around listening to every thought. But Sky had to pretend all he really cared about was Ken's safety?

Moron. Coward.

The crabs made it into the water before Sky spoke again. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Of course you do," Ken replied. Sky probably shouldn't have let him lie there simmering while he worked up the nerve.

"I guess Aki talked to you, but..."

Ken turned up the volume almost as high as it would go, quickly drowning out Sky's voice. Some of the shelves started to vibrate with the narrator's voice.

Sky made a show of confusion, holding out his hands and shaking his head like he didn't get what was going on.

It was then that Jin strolled in, wearing tight black jeans and a black tee shirt with the sleeves ripped off. It had some kind of faded design on the front. This was surprising.

As the telepath saluted Ken in greeting, Ken felt a boom of anger coming from Sky and looked over to see the blond rising from his chair with rage in his eyes.

Ken looked between them curiously. Now he wouldn't have to say anything, he guessed. He ate another chip.

"What are you doing here?" Sky shouted.

"I heard somebody had crabs on TV," Jin yelled over the din before reaching for the volume on the television and turning it down to a reasonable level. He turned to Jin. "Hey, how 'bout a chip?"

Ken thought about it for a moment, and then held up the bag. Jin reached in for a chip with the most devilish smile Ken had ever seen. And Sky's outrage crashed against Ken's skull like a tidal wave.

"Get out," Sky growled.

"You." Jin sat on the arm of the chair, near Ken's head. "Did I miss all the crunching?" he asked Ken.

Ken nodded.

Sky looked like he was going to explode. "What are you, fucking _friends_ now?"

"Oh, Sky," Jin said in a teacherly manner. "Nobody uses labels anymore."

That was funny. Ken knew he should be annoyed that Jin was stirring up trouble, but he couldn't help finding it funny.

"Out," Sky said through gritted teeth.

"Can I give you some advice?" Jin asked sweetly. "Take it down a notch. Don't be so reactive. Think long term. You know? Chip." He reached for the bag again.

A silver flash drew Ken's eyes to Sky's hand, where a knife suddenly fluttered between his fingers. "Out," the blond snapped.

Jin leapt in front of Ken and spread his arms. "Easy!" he said dramatically, and then, "What's that blade? Gucci?"

Ken took another chip. Sky wasn't ready to cut anyone yet, but his distress was getting pretty pitiful. Pulling out a knife was a ridiculous thing to do. Was it a yakuza thing? Ken was more amused than anything, and knowing Sky could feel it only made it funnier.

"Get out!" Sky barked a third time.

"All right, all right. My mistake." Jin threw up his hands and walked toward the door with a placating posture. "Didn't know you'd be in such a crabby mood."

Ken bit his lips. Sky just glared at the departing telepath.

"I'll see you around." Jin stepped outside, gave a hammy salute and shut the door.

Sky reeled on Ken. The knife had disappeared. "What the fuck are you thinking?"

Ken's amusement vanished in an instant. He rose from the sofa, turning to leave.

"Hey!" Sky grabbed his arm.

Ken whipped around and stepped aggressively toward Sky. "Touch me again," he hissed.

Sky shrank back. "Jesus, Ken! Why do you have to treat me like an enemy?"

"Why do you have to bother me all the time?" Ken snapped. "I _told_ you to leave me alone."

"You never give me a chance," Sky protested. "And I'm trying to keep you safe..."

"Okay," Ken said with a sneer. "So, why don't I just call you next time I'm in trouble, and you can come fucking _help_ me?"

Sky paled. This was the truth he really couldn't live with. The fact that Ken had reached for him for years, and Sky had left him to rot. "That's...not fair."

"You're a fucking idiot," Ken muttered, ready to walk away again.

_"You're_ a fucking idiot," Sky cried. "You don't know him. I _do_. You don't know anything! Don't you see that? You've only been out here for six months. You're basically a child. And I'm the only one here with a reason to look out for you, and you won't _listen_ to me."

Ken's chest was pounding like a war drum. Sky's stupidity was beyond reason, and it made him burn with frustration. And why? He hadn't even _done_ anything. He had barely spoken to Jin. But Sky was here anyway, whining at him, throwing his feelings everywhere. Again. It was stupid and tiring and it always ruined Ken's mood for days.

As always, disappointment welled up right behind the anger. Why was Sky like this? Why couldn't he act like everyone else and just back off?

It didn't matter. There was no getting around it. Sky would keep acting this way as long as he had the chance. Ken didn't have to give him any more chances.

"No more," Ken said.

Sky looked startled. "You're not gonna talk to him anymore?"

"No, asshole." Ken could already tell that Sky was going to freak out, and he was already mad about it. "You're not talking to _me_ anymore."

Sky's eyes widened. "What?"

"Get out. You're not allowed here."

"Is this a joke? You'd cut me off because I don't want you talking to that...that sociopath?"

"No," Ken snapped. "Because I don't like you and I don't want you around."

"You can't do that," Sky shouted. "I'm your _brother_."

The front door opened, but Ken didn't care. And he didn't even think about picking up the lamp from the end table. It just came flying out of his hand.

Sky ducked in time. The lamp crashed into the bookshelf behind him. But he reacted like it had actually hit him, grabbing his head in shock. "You fucking psycho!"

"Junkie whore," Ken snarled.

"Hey!" Lip was suddenly between them, putting an arm across Ken's chest. "The hell's going on here?"

"He's trying to kick me out," Sky said tersely, obviously still reeling from the lamp.

"Then get out," Lip said simply. "Wait out back for me."

Sky gaped at the Australian, disbelief exploding across his features.

Lip's blue eyes flashed with irritation, and he jerked his chin at the back door. "Go on."

Shaking his head, Sky finally turned and stalked out of the house. The door slammed behind him.

Ken was silent, but his chest was heaving slowly and he could feel the awful tension of frustration on his own face. He met Lip's eyes, wondering if the Australian would be disappointed in him for throwing the lamp.

"You didn't hit him?"

Ken shook his head.

There was a flicker of amusement in Lip's blue eyes despite his serious expression. "Well, you missed your one shot. I don't want you throwing any more lamps, okay, mate?"

After a moment's thought, Ken sort of nodded.

"No promises, huh?" Lip sighed and gently tousled Ken's hair. "You okay?"

"I don't want to talk to him anymore." Ken said quietly. He was glad Lip wasn't angry, but for once the man's easygoing manner wasn't making him feel better. He felt mad, helpless, and miserable.

Lip studied him for a moment or two and then put a hand on Ken's shoulder. "Okay, kiddo." He glanced at the back door. "Go relax, watch TV. Mind if I hang out a bit before I head back to ARSI?"

"You're busy."

"Nah. Go on. I'll join you in a minute."

Ken nodded, looking down. He turned away and left Lip in the living room.

Once in his bedroom, Ken went straight to the window and looked out through the blinds to see if Sky was still outside. He was, and Lip was coming out to join him. Ken leaned against the window frame, crossing his arms.

Lip held out his hands. "What's your problem?"

"I didn't do anything wrong," Sky replied, glowering. "I came to tell him—"

"I don't care. He tells you to leave him alone, you leave him alone. That's it."

"You don't even know what I came to—"

"I said I don't care. I don't care if the sky's falling. You've got no right to hassle him. You have something to say, you can say it to us."

"I did, and he didn't listen!"

"Too bad. You don't get to decide what he does. Are you listening to me? Leave him alone. If he wants to talk to you, he knows where to find you."

"Who do you think you are?" Sky demanded. "You're not his family."

Lip looked upward for a moment, as though praying for patience. Then he pointed a hand at Sky to emphasize what he said next. "You're not entitled to his attention." Seeing Sky about to speak, Lip raised his voice. "He said leave him alone. You leave him alone. Do you understand me?"

"You can't tell me to stay away from my brother."

Lip stared at him for a long moment. "I can tell you this," he said. "This is his house, not yours. If I catch you coming around after he's told you to not to, I might kick your ass, Sky."

Sky let out an astonished puff of air.

"Leave him alone."

"Fine," Sky growled, his cheeks pink with anger. "I just hope you're never in my position."

"Whatever that means, so do I." Lip opened the door. "Cheers, Sky. Go for a run or something."

Sky stood alone on the porch for a few moments, before storming down the steps, around the house, and out of sight.

Ken left the window, his spirits improved, and settled on the bed. He clicked on the TV. When Lip appeared in the doorway a few minutes later, holding the potato chips Ken had left in the living room, Ken had a strange urge to put his arms around him.

"He's really got a stick up his ass, doesn't he?" Lip said.

Ken nodded.

"If he gives you any more shit, let me know, yeah?"

Ken nodded again.

Lip nodded to the TV. "What's on?" He crossed the room to sit on the bed.

"Sharks."

"Beautiful." Lip grinned, kicked off his shoes, and leaned back against the pillows.

Ken wanted to thank him, but knew the words would feel awkward. Instead he sat back beside Lip and leaned closer until their shoulders met. When Lip casually slung an arm around him, Ken felt like the blond got it.

#  21. What's the Antichrist?

Jin strutted up the walk to Lip's house, singing along with the Guns n' Roses blasting through his headphones. He hopped up the steps, entered the house, and glided through the entryway with a few Axl Rose moves.

Aki and Ken looked up from where they lounged in the living room, Aki sprawled along the sofa and Ken sitting on the floor near Aki's hip.

Jin pushed the headphones off of his head. "Someone order a pizza."

"We just did." Aki said.

"How did I know that?" Jin grinned. He swaggered over and plopped into a chair, seeing Ken's eyes follow him. He met the cool gaze and cocked his chin. "Didn't get stabbed the other day, did ya?"

Ken looked back at the TV.

All right. Ken didn't respond to anything he deemed undeserving of a response. Fair enough. He was starting to get the hang of this. Jin looked at the screen. "Space! Wasn't I right about gravity?"

No response.

Jin turned his attention to Aki. "I figured out who you are." By figured out, of course, he meant coaxed it out of Sky's head.

Aki appraised Jin coolly. The black-haired prince had a pretty face, with a haughty tilt to his lips and deadly bedroom eyes. His long, slim body looked strong and quick. Not too shabby. He switched to Japanese when he replied to Jin in a voice that was all satiny disinterest. "Who am I?"

"Sakamoto's son," Jin replied in the same language, giving himself a point for the curious look he got from Ken. "That bloodbath showed up on our radar."

Aki Sakamoto's dad had been the most powerful yakuza boss in Tokyo. Unfortunately for Daddy Sakamoto, the apple had rolled a few miles from the tree. The family business clashed with Aki's morals. Jin had been working in Japan when news broke that Taisuke Sakamoto had been slaughtered along with a dozen guards, and his son had disappeared.

Aki shrugged and looked back at the TV. "Shit happens," he said flatly.

Jin snorted softly. Sure, shit happened. Heirs to yakuza fortunes slaughtered their dads and then ran to France to shack up with weird suicidal Irish boys, _all_ the time.

"You're an assassin, right?" Aki asked without bothering to look at him.

"On occasion. Why, you need one?"

Aki smiled slightly and shook his head.

"Suit yourself. You know where to find me. You too, Damien."

Ken looked at him, frowning. It was clear he wanted to know why Jin had called him that.

Jin smiled sweetly at him, waiting to see if he'd ask or not. To his mild amusement, Aki was watching and thinking the same thing.

"Who's Damien?" Ken asked at last, but looked at the TV first so that it wasn't clear who the question was for.

"Are you asking me?" Jin asked innocently.

"Who else?" Ken muttered.

Testy little shit, Jin thought fondly. "He's the Antichrist."

"What's the Antichrist?"

Jin settled in more comfortably, noting Aki's amusement. Aki was all right. "You know about Christ? Jesus Christ?"

Ken nodded. His eyes were on Jin now. Jin liked that.

"The Antichrist is like evil Jesus," Jin went on. "Christians say one day a really charming man will show up and get the whole world to love him. But it'll be the devil in disguise. Satan's son. The Antichrist."

Ken seemed interested. "What does he do?"

"Destroys humanity. Burns everything down."

It was subtle, but Ken definitely smirked. After a beat he asked, "His name is Damien?"

"There's a movie where this sweet-looking kid named Damien is the Antichrist and he doesn't know it. Satan looks out for him, so nothing can stop him. He starts taking over the world without even trying."

Ken was watching him like a curious hawk, his mismatched green eyes projecting a calm, penetrating intelligence that made Jin's bones feel a little funny somehow. At last he said, "Okay."

Jin grinned. "You're cool with that?"

Ken looked away, but Jin thought he saw a glimmer of amusement. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

Aki reached down to smooth Ken's hair. Ken absorbed the touch easily, his head moving a little under the pressure of Aki's hand.

How come Aki got to touch him?

The doorbell rang, and Ken climbed to his feet to get the pizza. Jin watched him go. He moved lightly, his body surprisingly relaxed and graceful for someone so guarded.

"What's his Talent?" Jin asked Aki.

"You haven't figured it out?" Aki asked dryly. "Isn't that, like, what you do?"

"Yeah," Jin said peacefully, watching Ken return with a stack of pizza boxes. "It is."

# 22. Junkie Whore

Sky tried to talk himself out of it. He had fought it harder than any of them would ever believe. Every day without it was an ordeal they would never understand.

He tried. They didn't know, wouldn't know, how hard he had tried. And he kept trying all the way, even as he wrapped the rubber around his arm. He tried to talk himself out of it right up until the prick of the needle brought tears of relief to his eyes.

Yes.

His thumb moved to the plunger and pressed down, a reflex too strong to compete with the waves of shame and guilt—feelings that did more to bring him here than they did to keep him away.

What would it be like to be stronger? What would it be like not to need this?

_Fuck it_.

It covered him like warm velvet, filled him with peace.

Why had he tried to resist? What had it accomplished? Outside of this there was nothing. He was nothing. He was no one's friend. He was no one's brother.

No one's brother.

#  23. Jackson Gadamer

Jackson had just downed a cup of coffee when the sleek high-security door to his office opened.

Wilhelm Strauss—the new Chairman of the Board, KGA's most powerful empath, and Jackson's new direct superior—paused for effect before entering the room.

Strauss was a serious-looking man, tall and lean with dark brown eyes and auburn hair he kept cropped close to his head. At 38, he was one of the oldest Talents alive; but, like all Talents, he had stopped showing his age in his mid-twenties. He had a gentle manner, with eyes that radiated good humor. That was the most terrifying thing about him once one knew what was underneath.

Because Strauss was one of a handful of people who regularly hovered beyond the scope of Jackson's precognition, this visit was entirely unexpected. In fact, Jackson had never seen Strauss in his office before. The man wasn't one for personal calls—like a spider, he preferred his targets to come to him.

"Good morning," Jackson greeted with a slow nod, not outwardly showing his surprise, though not making any effort to shield it. He'd learned over the years that it was best to leave some things within Strauss's reach. Sealing it all up always aggravated the empath, which always had unpleasant consequences.

"Good morning," Strauss said with a pleasant smile. "Ready for your session?"

"I am." As ready as he could be.

Strauss had been working him to the bone since he took over, demanding a full session every day using a list of prompts he prepared himself. He was using Jackson's Talent too hard, and they both knew it, just as they both knew it wasn't going to stop anytime soon—not until the older man was convinced that he had wrung every drop of information from KGA's leading precognitive, and that Jackson would submit to his leadership.

It was going to take awhile.

Strauss moved across the room and sank into one of the seats across from Jackson's desk, unbuttoning his suit jacket and leaning back. "Interesting news out of France."

Jackson tilted his head politely.

And far beyond Strauss's reach, deep within the countless dense and complex layers of shields he'd built up over the years, he recognized that he was about to hear news of Jin.

"Renault met a gruesome end," the empath said. "Quite the comedy of errors, by the sounds of it. A stray bullet, a train..." He smiled and shook his head as though bemused. "The investigation was thorough. No sign of foul play. A perfect accident. And yet..."

A pause.

Strauss pursed his lips thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on some point to his left. After a moment, he looked at Jackson. "Well."

Pain hit Jackson's face like a blast of shrapnel. His careful expression was contorted in agony so extreme it could only be caused by Strauss's unfathomably twisted form of empathy.

"That's better," Strauss said pleasantly. "I was waiting for some kind of reaction."

Carving. Gouging. Shredding. Jackson clenched his teeth and his fists, tears streaming uncontrollably from his burning eyes, fighting to keep his thoughts anchored. Strauss loved to test his composure, and Jackson had no defense against his empathic attacks.

"Two months searching for your telepath," the empath said. "No clues until now."

The pain faded suddenly. Jackson closed his eyes hard, forcing his expression back to normal even as his facial muscles twitched and trembled in the wake of the assault.

"But now we've got a dead Talent," Strauss said, his voice lifting brightly. "So I think, for now, we ought to consider that a fresh lead."

"You think he's in France?" Jackson asked evenly.

A sly smile stretched Strauss's lips, and he spread his hands. "We'll find out," he sang softly. "I've prepared your guide with the details of Renault's unfortunate end. Let's hope today's session is fruitful. I look forward to hearing what our next step should be." He stood up, buttoned his jacket, clasped his hands behind his back and fixed his eyes on Jackson.

Jackson endured the empath's gaze, knowing that any moment Strauss could send another torrent of pain through him. Jackson was his favorite target, after all, and now that Strauss had taken control of KGA, there was no one to tell him to hold back. The Chairman didn't even try to hide how pleased he was.

"I've enjoyed having you close to me," Strauss said at last. "Observing you. Seeing what you look like when you're hard at work."

Jackson dipped his head cordially.

This reaction was not to Strauss's satisfaction, and a sudden scoff twisted his features. "You ridiculous cunt. Get up."

Jackson stood obediently, secretly checking his shields. The first assault had actually been for the sake of a reaction. But a real mood swing could be catastrophic.

"Come here."

Jackson stopped in front of the older man, deliberately calm, and he stayed that way even as Strauss reached up and grabbed his face, even as he felt the man's fingertips searing his skin like white-hot iron.

"What do I need to do with you?" Strauss hissed, yanking Jackson forward until their faces were inches apart. "Hm? How do we settle this?"

"Settle what?" Jackson asked quietly.

"I'm going to find your fucking telepath." The pain from the empath's fingers ripped down Jackson's neck, causing his spine to stiffen and his muscles to clench. Strauss went on with an ugly sneer. "And I'm going to _flay_ him. I'm going to destroy him inch by inch, layer by layer. It's going to take _months_ , Jackson. Are you ready to watch?"

Jackson affirmed through clenched teeth as he felt muscles slowly peel from his bones. It was an illusion, but his senses couldn't tell the difference. The pain Strauss caused through his skillful manipulation of the mind was worse than physical pain would be, deeper and fuller in its impact.

"We'll see," Strauss barked suddenly, his fingers digging harder into Jackson's cheeks. "That'll be when you pledge your allegiance, you spoiled, blue-blooded piece of shit."

Jackson stumbled slightly as Strauss forced him back against the desk, pinning him against the edge. "Chairman Strauss," he said, his voice strangled. "My session is..."

"Oh, shut up." The empath gave a sharp, dry laugh. "I'll give you time to compose yourself. Let me finish." His burning fingers moved from Jackson's face to his throat. "I'm putting you on the ground. Assemble a team by Sunday."

"Yes, sir."

A team.

In the hidden mental cell where Jackson kept his true feelings out of KGA's reach, there was a bright flash of satisfaction.

Strauss shoved him and stepped away, taking his Talent with him. "I had hoped this wouldn't be necessary, but you are clearly the only one capable of tracking that hateful little shit. Put together a team, get on the ground, and find him by the end of the month. Or you're finished."

Jackson straightened, though the pain lingered, and his body screamed in protest. "I understand."

Strauss turned back to him as the door opened. His face was calm and pleasant again. "Understand this, Jackson: The second you cross me, KGA's top priority will be your extermination." He smiled. "I'll be supervising your session today. Look sharp."

Jackson watched the door close after the Chairman and sat down in the closest chair, leaning his head back. He smelled oranges—an unsolicited vision was coming.

Gripping the arms of the chair, he gave himself over to his Talent.

For several moments he sat still and silent as bits of information boiled up in his mind and took the shapes of images and conclusions.

At last his body relaxed, and he focused on centering himself. The session would begin in just fifteen minutes and his mind was buzzing with all that he'd just seen, on top of Strauss's announcement.

Though weakened, he had to smile.

Everything was going according to plan.

He just hoped Jin could hold out a little longer.

#  24. Midnight in Paris

Aki rapped twice on the door.

Nothing.

He rapped twice more.

Nothing.

His sigh was stark in the concrete hallway. Crossing his arms, he leaned back a little and glared at the door as if he could see Sky through it. "Sky," he called sharply.

Nothing.

Aki thought about it for a moment, then settled on a palm strike. In one thrust of his open hand he broke the door from its hinges with a satisfying smack, and then shoved it sideways to let it lean against the wall.

For a split second, he wondered if he would find Sky dead in the bathtub and was gripped by the sharp realization that he wasn't ready for something like that. It would almost certainly throw him back into the whirlwind of panic and grief that he'd only just made it to the edges of in the wake of Luke's death. Then he spotted the blond on the balcony, his slim body slumped in a patio chair near a table covered in bottles. Two men were standing on the opposite end of the balcony, their heads ducked over something.

Aki crossed the room and stepped outside, glancing at Sky in his dark tailored pants and his dress shirt with one sleeve rolled up to bare his veins, and then turned to the men. "Hey."

Only one looked up, a glass tube perched lightly between his fingertips as he waited his turn. He was fairly young and had probably been somewhat better looking not long ago, but his face was sallow and his eyes were slightly sunken. The other had his own tube and was using it to suck up smoke as it rose from a sheet of foil in his other hand.

Aki jerked his head toward the door. " _Sortez_."

_"Un instant._ "

A flash of irritation caught Aki off guard. He wanted to grab them by the collars and—what? Fight them? What was the point? It would be like stepping on cockroaches. These little shits would give him no satisfaction at all.

"Get out," he said again, "before I shove those fucking pipes down your throats and squeeze your necks until the glass breaks."

The one who'd been smoking was now slumped against the railing, rolling his head back on his neck. The other was sizing up Aki with fresh eyes. With a nod he hit his friend on the chest. "Let's go."

Aki stepped back to let them pass, watching them until they'd gone. Then he looked down at Sky and kicked the blond's foot. " _Oi._ "

Sky's eyelids slid back enough to show a sliver of glazed blue-gray.

_"Baka,_ " Aki sneered under his breath, then, "I should take you back to Lip's and chain you to a fucking pipe and let you sweat it out." He kicked again, more sharply.

The blond knitted his fine brows and moaned under his breath. He raised the fingers of his left hand slightly, and then left them there and slowly relaxed again, like he was an old wind-up toy that had gone still years ago, and the kick had reanimated him for only a moment.

Aki looked down at the beautiful figure in the chair with bitter disdain: the long, slim legs splayed slightly, knees and ankles akimbo. His torso made a tantalizing curve beneath the elegant shirt, and his throat looked so smooth and delicious where the collar lay undone that even Aki's grief-hardened eyes couldn't help but linger on it for a moment. His pink lips were so fine and sensual they hardly looked real, just like his dark feathery eyelashes and his shimmering golden hair.

All Talents were beautiful. But there was more to it with Sky. He had learned to use his looks before he was conscious of his Talent, although it was hard to believe they hadn't always gone hand-in-hand.

As an empath, Sky was able to influence the feelings of others, manipulate their emotional perceptions and reactions. That explained how, when he wanted it to, his beauty could seem like some kind of conscious entity in its own right, a siren whispering indescribable promises. It was the kind of perfect, ethereal quality that wasn't supposed to exist outside of poetry, a face that could conceivably launch a thousand ships.

There was some illusion to it, without a doubt. But the result was awe-inspiring. Sky was beauty itself.

And he was fucking pathetic.

Aki reached down and pulled Sky up by the arms to toss him over his shoulder. The blond was dead weight, and Aki didn't bother undressing him before laying him in the bathtub.

"What are you doing?" Sky mumbled, waking up enough to rub his eyes in slow motion.

Figuring a cold blast from the shower would be a bit too mean, Aki went to the kitchen and took a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

Sky jerked when the splash hit his face, sputtering a moment before forming words. "What the fuck?"

"Having fun?" Aki spat, and splashed him again.

Sky sat up, holding the edges of the tub and blinking up at Aki with his big, doped-up eyes. "What are you..."

"How much money do you have?"

The blond squinted at him, then lay back against the slanted end of the tub again and started to unbutton his shirt. He watched his fingers with a faraway frown of concentration. "Enough."

Good. The last thing they needed was for Sky to get desperate and _really_ start fucking around. Although, considering the company Aki had chased out earlier, it looked like he was already using some of his charms to stay in supply. "And how long are you planning to do this?"

Sky finished the shirt, revealing his svelte golden abdomen and the ornate tattoos that marked him as yakuza property, and started on the pants. "I don't know," he said in the same sleepy mumble. "Till I come up with a plan."

"Oh, yeah? You make pretty good plans when you're stoned?"

Blue-gray eyes blinked up at Aki again. After a long moment, Sky asked, "Does Ken know?"

Aki bit his tongue. He wanted to kick those pearly teeth in. "Why?" he asked. "You want him to?" Who could tell? Ken always said everything Sky did was a ploy for attention. Aki was more inclined to attribute it to self-hatred. He didn't want to humor either one.

"Is he with Jin?"

Aki narrowed his eyes. "None of your fucking business."

As if Sky had a right to feign concern for Ken while he was here wallowing under the influence of the same drug he blamed for all his failures. While Ken had been enduring years of unspeakable torture in captivity, Sky had been doped up on silk sheets.

Sky's life, though luxurious on the surface, was as fucked up as anyone's. There was no happiness in the yakuza underworld for people like Sky, glorified playthings with no real power—he'd seen enough of them in his own father's orbit. And he knew how drugs were used to subdue and control them, and how few ever escaped that world.

All things considered, whether or not Sky was ever truly capable of rescuing Ken was up for debate. But the fact remained that Sky himself blamed heroin for his inaction, for the bulk of Ken's torments, and for all the problems that now lay between them. Sky wanted to blame the drug for the fact that Ken hadn't been saved, yet here he was, soft and warm in its arms again.

Aki shook his head. Unbelievable. "You need something? Water or food?"

"No." Sky started to slither out of the pants.

"You're not taking a bath like this." He pulled Sky unceremoniously out of the tub, dragged him back over to the bed, and threw him on his stomach.

"Why did you come?" Sky murmured, his face half buried in a pillow.

"To make sure you weren't dead."

"I've...never died."

"Good job." Aki glared down at him. He couldn't leave him like this, could he? But Lip and Mark were busy, and he himself wasn't willing to...

_Maa._ He wasn't willing to do anything, really. Anything at all. It wasn't out of spite. He just didn't have it in him. Not now. With an irritated sigh, he went to the balcony and dialed Lip.

"Hey, mate."

"Hey. Sky's laid out on heroin again."

Lip hissed a slow, angry profanity.

"I can't do much about it. I'm gonna leave him here tonight."

"I'll send someone to keep an eye on it. Go home."

"Thanks."

"How you feelin'?"

"Fine." He paused awkwardly. "You?"

"Yeah. Fine. I'll get on this, mate. It was kind of you to check on him. I'm beggin' you, though, don't take it on, alright? I want you to take it easy."

_"Wakatta._ "

"All right. Good. Later, Aki."

Aki hung up and went back inside. "I'm leaving."

"Stay."

"No. Call me when you sober up."

Sky moaned unhappily. "Stay..."

Feeling the touch of Sky's empathy, Aki jerked to a halt in the doorway, his spine stiffening like a line yanked taut.

Sky's Talent should have felt like an alluring caress, but for Aki, whose mind was still torn and raw from Jen, the unexpected contact was a brutal shock. It threw him straight back into the moment his mind and body had been taken over by a Talent inconceivably stronger than him.

It was all he could do to keep his feet on the ground

Pulling himself together before panic could set in, he turned back to Sky, his features tight with anger and his heart racing with memories. His mutilated shields were still feebly trying to fight the perceived threat. Screams echoed in every corner.

Sky was sitting up on his elbows, eyes wide, startled half-sober by Aki's reaction. "Aki," he stammered.

"Don't ever do that again," Aki whispered.

"I'm sorry," Sky said quickly, sliding clumsily toward the edge of the bed as if to rise.

"Don't bother," Aki said evenly. He was so angry his fingers trembled. "Get over this. Whatever it is. You'll make things worse. And besides, it's fucking _insulting_."

He wasn't even sure what he meant by that, but he was headed down the hallway before Sky could attempt to put together a response. He made it out of the building before he heard Jin's breezy, teasing voice.

"I know what you meant by it."

Aki stopped in the parking lot, his fists clenched, and stared hard at the skinny telepath leaning against his motorcycle. Jin's crimson dye job had faded to a rusty hue that looked better on him than it should have.

"I do!" Jin insisted. "That's a nice fat Talent he's sitting on, you know. And a nice healthy brain—well, if you know what I mean. No broken parts. Where does he get off complaining to you?"

Aki's frown tightened as he looked at the telepath. He wasn't about to imply that he'd had it any harder than anyone else. He certainly wasn't about to deny Sky's hardship. Infuriating as the blond was, he had been exploited all his life.

"Oh, come on. He milked it. _Come on!_ " he insisted when he heard Aki protesting in his head. "Cut the _noblesse oblige_. He milked it! He had all the drugs and sex, silk sheets and designer clothes he wanted. Anyway, you're right. His whining is insulting." He lit a cigarette. "Some of us have real problems. I'm not saying _you_ ," he corrected with exaggerated concern, holding his hands up. "I get it. You don't complain. It's unbecoming of royalty."

"Go to hell," Aki snapped. He wasn't sure why Jin was suddenly heckling him. They hadn't interacted all that much. Now the telepath seemed determined to get a rise out of Aki.

Jin grinned. "What are you doing here? Trying to help him out? Why? Keep him doped up, I say."

_You would,_ Aki retorted in his head. He only knew a couple of things about Jin so far, namely that he was fixated on Ken and loved tormenting Sky.

"You are correct on at least one count," Jin declared. "But that's not the point. Why do you care?"

Aki ignored him, heading for his bike. He wasn't in the mood. And he didn't like standing here letting Jin read all his thoughts. It was bad enough he'd panicked in front of fucking _Sky._ The last thing he wanted to do was loiter around flaunting the fact that his shields hadn't even begun to recover from being completely annihilated, and his mind was fair game for anyone from stoned empaths to asshole telepaths.

"Come on, Sakamoto-san," Jin said beseechingly, following Aki to his bike and hanging his arms over the handlebars. "I just wanna be friends. I'm a fan of yours."

"Fuck off," Aki spat, feeling a spike of anger that frustrated him. He was too wound up.

The telepath's lips curved in another sly smile. "Nothing wrong with a little anger. You do such good work with it. That was practically regicide."

Aki dropped his helmet back on the bike to turn on Jin with a warning glare. He didn't want to have a problem with the telepath. But if Jin didn't stop calling out Aki's family business, there would be a problem.

Jin looked innocently up at him, his arms still draped languidly over the handlebars. "I'm being honest," he said. "You're a bad motherfucker. You should be out raising hell, not taking on another broken bird."

With the unnatural speed of a physical Talent, Aki had Jin pinned against the next car before the last syllable was out. A puff of air escaped the telepath's lips, and his eyes gleamed with mischief.

It took a moment for Aki to speak one word through clenched teeth. " _Don't_."

Jin put his hands up in surrender.

Aki slowly let go of Jin's collar, taking his fists from the Russian's chest. Rage had almost overwhelmed him for a moment, and now it turned inward. Jin had been testing him, and he'd taken the bait. Because it wasn't bad enough that he had no shields, that he had no strength; no, he'd had to go and demonstrate that he had no control over his emotions, either. Losing his temper like a child.

"Goddamn, Sakamoto, take it easy. Everybody gets a little mad sometimes." Jin straightened from the car as Aki got on his bike. "Hey, can I get a ride?"

"No."

The telepath raised his eyebrow suggestively. "You sure?" His eyes wandered down Aki's body. "No better cure for psychic agitation. Speaking from experience."

Aki ignored him, putting on his helmet. A moment later he was speeding off into the distance.

#  25. Round One: Fight

Sex. Booze. Drugs.

Robbery. Arson. Murder.

Pizza. Thai. Burgers.

Nothing sounded good.

Jin swung his foot at one of the beer bottles littering the rubbish-strewn alley and sent it sailing against the brick dead end.

He was _fucking bored._ Bored as fuck. So bored he was about to lose his fucking mind.

Growling, he kicked another beer bottle. _Nothing_ sounded fun. Nothing! Sky was too doped up to even notice him. And the little green-eyed gremlin had been ignoring and avoiding him since the stupid junkie had fallen off the wagon. Aki was too high-strung to pick at—Jin hadn't even gotten started the night before, and the ninja prince had almost gone berserk.

What the fuck was he supposed to do with himself? He'd never _been_ this bored!

Jackson was still at KGA. And that was all he knew. The Butterscotch Talents were hoarding their intel like preppy little treasure trolls, still too distrustful to give him any access to their goddamn resources. He knew they had some kind of agency at their backs, but without breaking any shields he couldn't even find out the fucking name! Unbelievable! Jackson had told him they were not to be underestimated, but still—the hustling sons of bitches really were a lot more hardcore than they looked.

Didn't make them any less boring. For all their credentials, they were _vanilla._

For Christ's sake. How long was he supposed to sit around diddling his fucking thumbs and waiting for word from Jackson? He needed a sign! Something to let him know that he was on the right track, that there was a point to this stupid exile, that he hadn't been duped into one huge fucking mistake.

Jin wasn't built for waiting games. He was a telepath. He lived on instant truth and instant gratification. If Jackson didn't show up soon, he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it together with all this fear and boredom and irritation boiling up inside of him.

Ugh, the trouble he could cause here... Jin looked upwards with a wistful sigh.

What he could do to torment Sky! He was dying to slip in through the window and taunt that beautiful little doped up slut until furniture flew and windows shattered and the whole neighborhood bawled along with the empathic tantrum of the decade.

And Aki! It gave him shivers— _shivers!_ —to think of what that murderous little prince could do if properly provoked. The Sakamoto massacre had made waves in the underworld. Aki had been a mere footnote in his father's profile before he'd slaughtered the man and all twenty-two of his guards. No one saw it coming—not even Jackson. Jin still remembered how his delight at the news had annoyed the precognitive, who'd been forced to rearrange a sizable chunk of his operations throughout Japan to adjust to the change in hierarchy.

Now, it was hardly conceivable that the terror responsible for that brilliant bloodbath was this broken, lovesick, grief-stricken sap currently wilting away in Paris. Not that Jin didn't understand the severity of Aki's psychic trauma—he did, all too well—but as far as he was concerned, it'd be doing the kid a fucking _favor_ to fire him up, to stoke up a little rage.

Pouting, Jin kicked another bottle against the dead end. "' _Don't make any messes,'_ " he boomed in his caricature impression of Jackson. "Prick," he added under his breath.

And Ken. Ooh, Ken.

The brittle, beautiful white face flashed in his mind's eye, the metallic gaze and the ink-black hair, the sharp little lips.

What was his Talent? What was behind those fucking walls? Christ, it was burning him up, teasing him like a...

"Speak of the devil," Jin said suddenly, and turned around with a grin. The footsteps behind him didn't have a brain to go with them, and there was only one person in Paris with shields strong enough to sneak up on Jin.

Ken stood in the alley, hands in his pockets, staring at him with those mismatched eyes, one pale jade and one dark sea green, both fixed on him.

Damn. Nice glare. Like a cocktail of ice and death. A tiny spark of nervousness bit Jin in the gut, and it thrilled him. "Hey," he said.

The kid stood silent, still, and cold.

"Hey," Jin said again, and almost cleared his throat. What if the kid was a telekinetic or something, here to squish his brains? Who the fuck knew? Spooky little monster. Shit. "Nice weather, huh?"

Ken gave no response.

Jin raised his eyebrows and shifted his weight casually, lacing his fingers behind his neck. He looked Ken over. "Sure! I'll hang out with you," he said. "If that's what you want."

"I want you to stay away from Aki."

Oh. Right. Jin sighed, disappointed. He might have guessed his _mild jabs_ the night before would be too much for the Butterscotch Talents, but he'd imagined Ken having a higher threshold. "I just riled him up a little."

"Don't."

Jin snorted. What was he, the neighborhood watch puppy? "Okay, Fido."

Something dark came into Ken's eyes.

Whoa. Jin watched the kid step forward, surprised by the reaction, and surprised Ken knew what Fido meant.

"You're calling _me_ a dog?" For as young as he looked, Ken's quiet voice was as hard as steel, and his eyes were even harder now. " _You_?"

"Oh, you'd call _me_ a dog?" Jin perked up, weirdly excited by the prospect of sparring with Ken. "Before we go on, though. Are you sure you know what a dog is? Have you seen one in real life? Or was it on one of your flashcards?"

"I watch TV," Ken shot back. "Dogs get trained. And they do what their masters say. And when they're left alone, they whine at the door and piss everywhere."

Well, the kid had teeth. "Never had a master," Jin countered, testing deeper water. "Never been a slave."

Ken laughed, kind of—a soft, scornful sound. "I guess you know I have been," he said, looking at Jin with new disdain. "Didn't find out from me, though, did you?"

Jin smirked at the irony in Ken's tone. Going back and forth with the little antichrist was giving him some kind of feeling. Hot and electric. The opposite of boredom.

"But you know more than I do," Ken continued. "I've never followed orders."

There was real disgust in his tone. Somehow it actually stung. "You trying to hurt my feelings, kiddo?"

"I don't know." Ken's gaze turned daring. "Crack my head and find out."

Whoa. Jin looked at him for a moment, disarmed by the reckless challenge.

Sure, the kid had powerful shields, the strongest he'd ever felt in anyone except for Jackson or the members of the Board at KGA. But that didn't mean they were impenetrable. No one's were. Jin didn't know how much effort it would take to pierce Ken's mind, but he had no reason to doubt he could do it if he really wanted to.

"Don't say things like that," Jin said with more seriousness than he expected.

"Like what?"

"Daring a Talent to come at you." Jin studied him. "Lot of them would take you up on it."

Ken narrowed his eyes. "I'll say what I want."

"Yeah, it's a free country."

"Don't bother Aki again," Ken said, distinctly finished with the conversation. He only had one more remark to throw over his shoulder as he turned away: "That's an order."

Jin watched him go. "Just out of curiosity," he called out. "What happens if I don't do what you tell me to?"

Ken didn't reply. He just disappeared around the corner.

#  26. Fresh Tracks

Ken was sitting on the back porch with a book when he felt Sky approach. It was always the same, a distant hum on the empathic link between them that grew into a vibrating buzz as the blond got closer.

At first he stiffened with anger. Sky wasn't supposed to be here. Lip had told him.

But then the anger was outmatched by troubled curiosity. Sky felt bad.

Not like usual. Not like he was going to throw a tantrum. Not like he had something to say. Just bad.

Really bad, actually.

Ken heard the knock on the front door and thought about it. Usually when Sky was stoned it felt warm and numb. It wasn't a bad feeling on its own—Ken only hated it because he associated it with the countless hours he'd spent being maimed and tortured while, on the other end of their mental link, Sky lay somewhere warm and numb and buzzing with pleasure.

So what was this bad feeling now? It was tinged with that familiar doped up sensation, but at the same time it was weird and distant and miserable.

He concluded it was probably what happened when Sky got high and then decided to go and bother someone. A combination effect. That made some sense. Ken opened his book again.

The knocking stopped, but Sky didn't go anywhere.

As the minutes passed, Ken found it impossible to focus on his book. He put it down with a sigh and looked out at the soft early evening sky for a few moments.

Whatever. He might as well. What was one more time?

Opening the front door, he found Sky sitting on the steps with his head in his arms. The blond straightened, startled, and turned on the step to blink up at Ken.

Ken looked him over. Sky was pale and rumpled, and he was trembling. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes, and his lashes were moist.

Sky slowly stood up, and then went down a step and backed up a few more feet until there was some distance between them. He wrapped his arms around himself loosely, as though cold, and drew a breath to speak. But his lips trembled, and he looked down at the ground.

Ken said nothing.

"I'm sorry," Sky said at last, his golden hair curtaining his face. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and looked up to meet Ken's eyes. "I won't say anything. I won't do anything to make you mad. I just..." The blond head dropped again. He shifted on his feet. "If we could just...watch TV or something...I promise I won't say anything."

Something twisted in Ken's chest.

Why did Sky have to be so fucking pitiful? Why did he always have to make people feel sorry for him?

At last Ken found something to say. "Are you high?"

"No," Sky whispered. "Not since this morning."

"Why? Are you trying to stop?"

Sky nodded miserably. He didn't raise his head.

Goddamn it. Ken glowered down at him, at the sagging shoulders and the hanging head, the slim, trembling frame.

"I just want to be around for awhile," Sky said in the same feeble voice. "I can stay out here if you want."

Oh, what the fuck. Ken kept his mouth shut for a moment. At last he heard himself mutter, "Fine. Come in."

Sky finally looked up, shocked.

Ken went back inside immediately.

He went to the kitchen, hearing the door open and close again as Sky entered the house behind him, and hearing him cross the living room to sit in the corner chair. Ken stood at the sink for a minute, sketching out some ideas of how this could go wrong so he wouldn't be surprised. Then he opened the refrigerator.

Back in the living room, Ken set a reheated box of Chinese takeout on the coffee table and shoved it toward Sky before sitting on the sofa.

Sky slid off of the chair to sit on the floor by the coffee table, mumbling thanks.

Ken only glanced at him. He turned on the TV and dug in to his own carton of noodles.

True to his word, Sky said nothing. He just watched the screen as Ken flipped through the channels. After a while, gradually, his fragile, anxious state began to settle down, leaving a quieter cloud of misery. And then, gradually, the misery started to soften. There was even a faint, tentative sense of comfort.

Ken avoided looking at him, still distrustful, but he was relieved by the change. They were connected, after all, and Sky never kept his feelings to himself.

Nearly an hour passed without either of them speaking. Sky had calmed down considerably, curled in the chair with his eyes on the TV, and Ken had started to think maybe Sky wouldn't start anything tonight after all. He pulled a throw blanket from the arm of the sofa and leaned over to hold it out to Sky.

Sky looked at it, looked at Ken, and then took it. "Thank you," he said humbly, drawing it up over himself. "I'll leave soon."

"You might as well stay," Ken grumbled.

Sky's eyes had tears in them. "Thank you."

They said no more.

#  27. Aki Steps Out

Kou's Bar was dark and smoky. Moody electro beats drifted out of the expensive speakers behind the bar, and the patrons were young, cool, and quiet, a mix of Japanese expats and local hipsters.

Aki had come for the shochu, one of the Japanese liquors Kou's was known to keep an impressive selection of. The evening had brought him an uncharacteristic urge to drink. He couldn't remember the last time he'd tasted alcohol...

_"Dou desu ka?_ "

Looking up, Aki met the eyes of the bartender drying glasses a few feet down the bar. "It's good," he replied in Japanese.

"Do you live in Paris?"

"No," Aki replied. He never told where he lived. With a kind of bland curiosity, he checked the bartender out. He was a handsome guy, tall and athletic, with natural black hair, high cheekbones, and narrow, finely curved lips. Back in Japan, he would have been Aki's type. "What's your name?"

"Morimoto Shunsuke." The bartender bowed. "What's yours?"

"Ichikawa Aki." The fake surname was likely unnecessary, but one could never be too sure. It wasn't worth the chance of getting into some conversation about the Sakamoto family with some random expat in the know.

"Nice to meet you," Shunsuke smiled, and looked down at his tumblers again.

Aki studied him, feeling a strange pang of homesickness. With some surprise, he realized he hadn't spoken to anyone from Japan in longer than he could remember. Other than the letters he occasionally exchanged with Asano-sensei, his former personal bodyguard and private trainer, he was completely cut off from his homeland. He had never expected to mind...

"Hey."

Surprised, Aki turned toward Mark's voice. He watched the man sit down beside him and signal the bartender for another bottle of shochu.

"Good to see you out," Mark said in his dark, silky voice, his chocolaty eyes wandering over the selection of bottles before them. They lingered on the bartender, and then came to rest on Aki. "How's it going?"

Aki shrugged.

Mark pulled out a pack of cigarettes and hung one on his lips.

"How do you stand those fucking things?" Aki muttered.

Mark looked at him and put the unlit cigarette back on top of the pack he'd laid on the counter. "Okay."

Aki sighed and waved a hand. "I didn't mean you couldn't."

The bartender brought Mark's bottle and filled a small glass for him. Mark thanked him and held the glass up to Aki. After the younger man obligingly tapped it with his, Mark took a sip.

"Heard from Dylan?" Aki asked, and regretted it immediately. He didn't know why he'd asked it. It certainly wasn't simple curiosity. And he didn't really want to talk about Luke's older brother. He already had a bitter taste in his mouth just from bringing it up.

Mark shook his head slowly. "Kel says he's in Ireland."

"Doing what?" Aki sneered. "Communing with spirits?"

Mark looked down, parting his lips and then pressing them together in a frown like he had wanted to say something and then thought better of it.

"What?" Aki demanded.

"He's grieving," Mark said cautiously.

"He should be getting over it pretty soon. Luke was dead to him long enough before he actually died."

Mark said nothing, turning his glass slowly on the counter.

Aki's cheeks were warm with anger. He knew Mark wanted to have Dylan's back. He also knew he didn't want to hear it. Dylan had made his own choices. He'd made his own judgments. Aki could understand Mark's loyalty. But nothing could erase the fact that Dylan had turned his back on Luke when it had mattered the most.

Mark broke the silence. "You wish he was here?"

"I don't give a shit where he is," Aki muttered. "And I wouldn't count on him to care if I did."

"He cares, Aki." Mark said it miserably, like a lawyer with a hopeless defendant.

"About what? Luke? Now that he's dead?"

"He always cared."

"Yeah? Luke asked him for help. He asked both of you for help. Dylan was too busy shaming him for what happened to David."

"You know Dylan's got a problem with death." Mark paused. "When I came back after I killed myself, he didn't speak to me for a weeks. Everyone else tried to sympathize. Not Dylan. He couldn't accept it. He still doesn't. You think that means he doesn't love me?"

Aki was quiet, his eyes dark.

"Look, it blindsided him. He never thought David would kill himself. And I know he shouldn't have blamed Luke, but the way Luke told it, like he'd agreed to it..."

"David died," Aki said bitterly. "He didn't _kill_ himself."

"Dylan doesn't agree."

"Do you?" Aki challenged.

Mark broke eye contact at last. "I don't know," he muttered, and shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Either way I don't blame him for it."

"What was Luke supposed to do? Chain him up in the sunshine? Flick him every time he tried to drift off?" Aki was getting worked up now, though his voice stayed low. "It's not like we slit his wrists or kicked a stool out from under him or walked him to the ledge. He decided to go to sleep and not wake up. What the fuck was Luke supposed to do about that?" Before Mark could answer, Aki shot him a glare. "What am I doing, trying to argue with you? You'll defend him no matter what."

"No, I won't. Come on, Aki..." Mark sighed, and rubbed his brow. "I don't agree with him. I don't want you to think I do. I know he's wrong. I know he let you down."

"Luke. He let Luke down."

"Both of you. And so did I. I'm _sorry_ , Aki."

A long silence stretched between them.

Mark spoke quietly again. "I just don't want you to think he never cared."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because it's not true. And you have enough to be miserable about."

"I don't want to talk about Dylan anymore. Best of luck to him in Ireland. I hope he finds whatever peace he's looking for. All for himself."

"He's _grieving_." Mark murmured, now softly reproachful. "He fucked up. But don't think he's not hurting, Aki. He's the only one hurting as bad as you."

Aki didn't look at him. He waited for the hard knot in his throat to dissolve before he spoke, but his voice was still a little rough. "You miss him?"

"Who?" Mark asked softly.

"Luke."

"Every day. And David, too."

It was hard to accept those simple words, and he had to wonder again why he'd asked such a stupid question. Nobody missed them enough. Nobody cared enough. He knew it.

How could they? They hadn't been there with Luke like he had. They hadn't watched his decline up close. They hadn't heard his whispered stories about his time with Jen, or felt him tremble in their arms as he confessed his terrible thoughts in the dark of the night. They didn't get what she'd done to him, how she'd mangled him, the streaks of hate and cruelty and violence she'd left in him. They hadn't faced it. They hadn't faced those dead eyes above them, felt the terrible strength of his Talent turning against them.

Sure, they missed him.

Feeling Mark's hand on his shoulder, he realized he'd been staring blankly into his glass for a long time.

"I'm sorry, Aki," Mark murmured.

"I just want to have a drink," Aki replied in a dull voice.

"I shouldn't have come."

Aki didn't answer.

"I'm here for you," Mark murmured, squeezing Aki's shoulder, and then rose from his stool. He tossed a bill onto the counter and nodded to the bartender.

Several minutes later the bartender came near him, wiping the counter with big sweeps of his white cloth. He glanced up curiously. "Can I get you anything?"

"No," Aki said. His voice was still flat and dull. He straightened slightly in his seat, looking straight at Shunsuke. "You live around here?"

They took a cab. What was he doing?

He took Shunsuke from behind, holding him tight and closing his eyes so he could try to pretend.

The last time they'd done it was in the bathroom upstairs, Luke gripping the edge of the sink and arching back while Aki fucked him in long, deep strokes, his lips and teeth lavishing attention on Luke's shoulder and throat and the sharp line of his jaw, Aki's eyes moving again and again to the mirror in front of him where he could see Luke's beautiful body, pale and sleek, arched and rolling in time, and Luke's perfect face in rapture. He remembered wishing the pedestal sink wasn't in the way so he could see more of where his own hand moved up and down on Luke's cock, and forgetting about it when they both came in perfect time and ended up collapsing over the sink, gasping for breath.

Just ten minutes later, on the stairs, his head had exploded.

Shunsuke was a competent lay, his body firm and tight. Aki kissed his smooth skin, moving slowly in and out of him, distantly enjoying his moans of pleasure.

That hadn't really been the last time, that time in the bathroom. They'd done it after Luke had come back. It just wasn't an act of love or joy anymore. It was an act of need, of pain, of desperation. And finally it was an act of violence.

Aki pressed his face into Shunsuke's back, clenching his teeth and trying to focus on the physical pleasure alone. Then he gave up on that, too, and settled for being polite. He focused on fucking the other man to a fever pitch, pouring his efforts into it like he was competing for a prize. Like it was the only thing happening in the universe.

When Shunsuke was sobbing and begging and falling over the edge, Aki was finally far enough from his thoughts to find his own release.

The relief didn't last. As soon as he stepped outside, he felt worse than before. He wished he hadn't done it at all.

All he could think was that it hadn't been Luke. It would never be Luke again.

#  28. Round Two: Fight

Jin hopped merrily down the stairs leading out of Sky's apartment, humming as he contemplated the correlation between self-loathing and mind-blowing sex. Sky would make an excellent case study. The newly sober empath was a beautiful mess of raw nerves and desperation, craving punishment for his sins. Jin was all too happy to oblige him.

Still buzzed from that mindfuck, Jin took his bike away from the city for a joyride. There was only so far he could go without leaving the safety of Paris, but he had to take what he could get.

He'd just made it into the Forest of Rambouillet when he realized he had a tail.

Swearing, he checked his shields and scanned the rider of the bike behind him.

All he could hear was the massive rave happening somewhere close by, a cacophony of ecstasy-drenched little shits gyrating and fucking to their tacky electro beats. He tightened his focus slightly, targeting the rider as precisely as he could. But whoever it was, his shields were airtight.

Jin swore again. With shields like that, there were only three possibilities: Jackson, Ken, or an incredibly powerful KGA Talent.

Jackson would have announced himself. Ken didn't drive.

Fuck.

What the _fuck._

This was not according to plan. He'd followed Jackson's orders. He was in the safe zone. How could this son of a bitch be on his tail?

Unless...

_Nyet._ Jin growled at himself. He couldn't think of Jackson turning on him. It was all over if he thought that.

He accelerated far beyond the speed limit of the dark forest highway, quickly calculating his options. The road through the woods was dead straight. He'd have to skirt the outside to get back into the city where he could throw some obstacles between them, and who fucking knew what was waiting back there? He could take the chase off-road and head into the trees, but...

Nah.

Ducking low over the bike, he brought his speed up as fast as he could. The tail maintained the same distance between them, following about a quarter of a mile behind, but that was all right. Jin cut his headlight, making it harder for the pursuer to see ahead of him on the dark forest road. Just a few seconds later, an intersection gave him the room he needed for a turn so tight his leather-clad elbow scraped the pavement.

Before he could finish the turn and draw his gun, the other Talent flew past him, skipping the crossroad.

What the fuck?

Drawing back around in his original direction once more, he found the other bike standing still a half-mile away, facing him.

What, the guy wanted to play chicken?

It was a telekinetic, Jin realized. It had to be. Some fucking telekinetic with improbably pumped-up shields. Who else would sit there waiting to be shot, but a guy with a Talent that could stop bullets?

It was a sadistic goddamn telekinetic who now revved his engine and sped toward him, and fuck knew what games he had in mind.

Jin hit his own engine, grimly weighing his options. There wasn't much to it. It was time to fight.

With all his force, he sent the telepathic equivalent of a torpedo straight into the other Talent's head. He'd never met a shield he couldn't shatter. Of course, he'd never had to try with shields as strong as these—had never had the chance—but he was confident he could blast a decent hole, at bare minimum.

The other bike veered suddenly, spinning out, and shot off the road as the driver went sailing.

Yes.

Jin hit the brakes and dismounted, focusing his Talent on scanning intently to get a read on the asshole's condition.

Nothing.

He drew his gun, surprised. He'd struck the guy hard enough to make him lose control. But he should have been able to feel the effects of the damage. Maybe...had he...killed the fucker? If so, that was pretty goddamn impressive! He knew he was good, but he never knew for sure he was _that_ good. No wonder Jackson put up with all his shit.

Alert and ready, he crept into the trees where he'd seen the other driver go flying.

His gun flashed at the first movement he saw.

The other Talent did not, as it turned out, stop the bullet. He made a sound of pain and surprise, and fell.

"Shit," Jin blurted, and ran forward.

Ken ripped his helmet off, curling up on his side and clutching his stomach. "Idiot," he snapped. "Give me that gun."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Jin demanded, roughly shoving Ken's hands away and ripping his jacket open.

_"Me?_ I didn't shoot myself! Get off—"

Jin squinted in the dark to see the wound. In the scant light coming from the headlight of the wrecked bike, he could see blood pouring out. He clamped his hand over the hole and glared furiously at the little monster he'd maimed. "I'm on the run," he growled. "And you thought it was a good idea to tail me?" He was practically seeing red. That was kind of weird. He hadn't been this pissed at someone since...shit, he didn't know when. "Since when do you drive?"

"Since today," Ken retorted, and hissed when Jin increased the pressure. "Get off me, I'll fix it myself."

"Oh, you will, huh? Can you heal it?"

"Maybe."

"Just put your fucking hands on it." Jin let go and ripped off his own jacket, then his shirt, and then his belt. He pulled Ken's hands away again and shoved the shirt against the wound, then reached under Ken to wrap his belt around his waist. He cinched it tight to hold the makeshift bandage in place. "All right. I'm getting you up."

"I can ride by myself!"

"Would you shut the fuck up?" Jin demanded, exasperated, and lifted him to his feet as carefully as he could. "Your bike's smashed. You better be able to hold on," he said, easily supporting Ken's weight and half-dragging him to his bike. "I gotta get you back to the clinic." He made sure Ken got onto the bike, and then got on in front of him. "Can you hold on?"

Ken didn't answer, but locked his hands around Jin's waist.

Jin started the bike and sped back towards the neighborhood where the Paris Talents all lived. There was a small clinic they owned nearby, fully equipped for medical emergencies.

He was gonna get so much shit for this. Seething, he ran over the events in his mind. What was that little shit thinking, spooking him like that? What the fuck was wrong with him, getting spooked? Jesus.

And...

Jin's face smoothed out behind his helmet as he stared at the highway racing under his wheels. The simple shock of it hit him like a bolt of lightning:

Why did the little shit's shields feel as thick and hard as ever, after a psychic attack like that?

Ken let go of him before the bike had even come to a stop. A guttural sound of pain escaped him when he stumbled off the bike and he curled over, clutching his abdomen.

Jin jumped off the bike and ducked to scoop Ken neatly into his arms. "Shut up," he said bluntly when Ken opened his mouth to protest. He entered the dark building using the code Lip had given him and swiftly went to the basement emergency room, where he flipped on the lights with his elbow and dropped Ken on the table.

"Jerk," Ken muttered.

"Dumbass."

Ken scowled. He had a decent arsenal of scary looks. That fine face could go from porcelain mask to thunder goblin in record time.

"Take off your shirt." Jin had taken his jacket off and was shirtless at the sink, washing his hands. When he came back to the table he jerked his chin towards the head of it. "Lie down."

"Why?"

"So I can get the fuckin' bullet out of your stupid guts."

"I can do it myself."

Jin stopped, incredulous, and shook his head. What was with this kid? He wanted to try and pull bullets out of his own abdomen?

Leaving off the instruments, Jin crossed his arms and leaned back to look at him. "What the fuck were you following me for?"

Ken glowered up at him. "I needed to talk to you."

"About _what?_ "

"To tell you if you try and make Sky any crazier than he is I'll kill you."

Jin raised his eyebrows. "Are you kidding me? What are you, everybody's guardian angel?"

"I don't need him giving me any more shit," Ken growled. "And I don't need you to provoke him."

"Fancy word!"

Ken snatched one of the scalpels and thrust it at Jin. "Listen to me!"

"Hey!" Jin held up his hands and started to laugh. His eyes moved over Ken's skinny, bleeding form, taut and poised, all pale skin and alabaster scars. "You're a trip," he said, and nodded at the scalpel. "Put that down. I hear you."

Ken tossed the scalpel down, glaring.

Jin couldn't stop grinning. The kid got better every minute. "Would you lie down now? Fuck's sake, you want your guts to rot?" He bit his lips as the little psychopath lay back, forgetting all his irritation as he checked out the dense map of scars that crowded Ken's skinny body. Then he went back to prepping.

"What are you doing?"

Behind Ken's sullen voice was real curiosity. Jin felt himself smiling again. This night was turning out to be...not very boring at all. "I'm checking out the bullet. I'm checking your organs to see if they're torn up. We gotta fix them if they are. Then I'm gonna pick the fragments out and clean out the hole and bandage you up."

"You must have been pretty scared."

Jin snorted, glancing at his face. "Yeah," he said after a pause. "By the way, I hope you can take a little pain."

It was Ken's turn to scoff.

There was something strangely stimulating about this little weirdo. It was more fun to be with him than it should have been. He wasn't even mad anymore.

In fact, he hadn't been mad since he'd realized how incredibly well Ken had sustained his attack.

What the hell was this kid?

"Ever been shot before?" Jin asked.

"Maybe a few times."

"Maybe?"

"Probably." Ken flinched when Jin started in after the bullet.

That was weirdly reassuring. Jin had seen plenty of Talents who'd been successfully conditioned not to feel pain, and they creeped him out almost as much as empaths did. "Whose bike was that?"

"I don't know. Maybe Lip's."

"You gonna be in _trouble_?" He whispered the last word.

"Wasn't it your fault?"

"No," Jin scoffed. "What did you think was gonna happen?"

"I guess I didn't know you were so scared of me."

Jin bit his lip again. What the hell. He was almost giddy. Maybe after all these weeks in Candyland, he'd forgotten what adrenaline felt like. "How's your head?" he asked.

"Fine. I was wearing a helmet. Give me a mirror. I want to see."

Jin looked around, found a small mirror, and put it in Ken's hand. "What happened there on the bike?"

"There was a rabbit in the road. I didn't want to hit it."

Jin stopped and looked at him. "Really," he said, deadpan. "There was a rabbit?"

"That's what I said."

"Are you sure?"

"I know what a rabbit is," Ken said crossly.

Jin stared at him.

Ken stared back, his green eyes sharp, cool, and condescending.

"I didn't take you for the type to brake for rabbits."

Ken shrugged.

Jin went back to work on his stomach. "I was worried maybe I had something to do with it. I flicked you pretty hard."

"Yeah?"

Terrible little shit. "You're a terrible little shit."

Ken's sudden smile was bright and beautiful and wicked. It lasted for just a heartbeat before his face turned bored again and he looked away.

Jin got a funny feeling. It was kind of like when he got assigned a mission he knew was going to be nice and bloody. No, it was more like when Jackson dropped his work, stood up, and stalked over with his eyes all sharp and gleaming with mean, hot lust.

Except it was weirder. Or wilder.

Or something.

"How long is this gonna take?" Ken asked.

"Oh, sorry, you have plans?"

Ken sighed.

Jin grinned at him.

"What?"

"Just glad I shot you, is all."

Ken rolled his eyes.

Jin let him be for a while as he worked, but those scars kept catching his eye. The kid had been massively fucked with. He already knew Ken had been raised in a house of horrors, but it was quite something to see the evidence.

"Your scars are weird," he declared at last. "Why are they so smooth?"

"I don't know. Magic."

Jin sighed dramatically, taping down the bandage. "All right. You're done."

Ken sat up and slid off of the table, reaching for his bloody shirt with a grimace.

"Here." Jin opened the closet to a clever stock of spare clothes. He turned his back to clean the instruments as Ken changed into a plain white tee shirt.

"Thanks," Ken said a few minutes later.

Finishing up, Jin turned to him and bowed low. "The pleasure was entirely mine." He looked up when Ken started out of the room. "Hey. I'll give you a ride."

"I can walk four blocks."

"All right, half-pint," Jin called after him. "Suit yourself. Good luck with the parents. Sweet dreams!"

Standing alone on the street a few minutes later, Jin lit a cigarette and took a deep, satisfying drag. He tilted his head back and watched the smoke drift up through the glow of the street lamp, smiling slowly.

It was too soon to tell, of course.

But the funny feeling in his guts told him he might have hit the jackpot.

#  29. Look Sharp

In the main room of a hotel suite in Marseille, a dozen Talents stood up straighter when Jackson Gadamer came through the door.

Looking them over, Jackson betrayed no emotion. Inside, as usual, he was calm, cool, and focused. He'd picked this team himself. There were two telepaths, three empaths, and two telekinetics, all of whom had worked directly beneath him on projects in Asia. Additionally, he'd acquired two hypercognitives, a pyrokinetic, a physical, and a restorative from the KGA ranks. It was a perfectly decent team, well suited to his purposes.

Only two would survive past a month: Rinzen, a young telekinetic from Tibet, and Giovanni, an Italian empath. Jackson had found them both himself, nominating them as subjects for the unconventional training regimens that KGA would ultimately reject.

Unlike Jin, Giovanni and Rinzen were spared Strauss's barbaric initiations and given over entirely to Jackson's guidance. He'd trained them to cultivate their substantial Talents; meanwhile, with Jin's help, he'd helped them to develop intricate layers of shields to conceal their true capabilities. Both were registered with KGA at above average levels, but only Jackson knew how powerful they really were. And only Jackson had earned their undying loyalty.

Giovanni and Rinzen sat among the Talents now, calm and collected. Rin stood near the back of the room with his arms crossed, his large black eyes fixed on Jackson along with the rest. Vanni stood off to the side, leaning against the wall and looking bored.

Wilhelm Strauss was a terrifying adversary, shrewd, calculating, and immensely powerful. Jackson knew better than to underestimate him. But in his grab for power, Strauss had made the mistake of underestimating Jackson.

The so-called Chairman had visited Jackson in his office once more, earlier that morning.

"Off you go," he'd said, dropping his usual warm facade for the cold, cruel sneer that was his natural state. "Off to find our telepath. I do hope you succeed, Jackson. You are of crucial importance, after all, if there is any truth to your intoxicating prophecies. Now that KGA is under my guidance, I suppose it's my responsibility to finally get to the bottom of this _Key_ business."

He put his hands on Jackson's desk, leaning down to stare into his eyes. "Tell me again, _Prophet_. What is this Key going to look like? What is he going to do?"

"He'll be young," Jackson recited. "And he will appear so unremarkable that he will be at risk of being overlooked. He will be uncultivated, and he will demonstrate few spectacular qualities other than his natural psychostructure, which will rank as high as any on record, and his restorative abilities. He will be almost death-proof."

"And?"

"And he will possess a hidden Talent of such staggering power that he will surpass in strength even the most formidable Talents ever to have passed through our ranks. The genetic anomalies that will account for this unprecedented power will be clear and easily charted, and this will provide KGA with the necessary elements to perfect a cloning formula."

"O, Prophet." Strauss's lips twisted in a cold, terrible smile. "It is an incredible tale. And I daresay I do believe it, in its basic form. Now, whether or not I believe that _you_ are the tool we need to locate this young prodigy—that's another story." His eyes were hard, and they bored into Jackson's. "Get out there. Bring me that telepath by the end of the month, or I will come and fetch you. Then we'll prove once and for all which of us is the strongest. But I promise I won't let you die until I've heard you beg, Jackson."

With that, Strauss had unleashed a flood of agony that left Jackson gasping on the floor, so paralyzed by pain that it took all his effort not to limp as he walked into KGA's hangar and left for Marseilles.

Now, Jackson gave his new team a thorough briefing on how they were going to locate their target. They watched him intently, their cold eyes sharp with ambition. Jackson Gadamer was a considered a god among Talents at KGA, and a spot on his team was seen as a chance to prove one's worth and ascend the ranks.

After he'd dismissed them, he moved to the kitchen to brew a cup of espresso. Though he was not yet nearly free of KGA, it was an enormous relief to be out in the world again, outside of those stifling walls and outside of Strauss's range.

As he sat down on the sofa with his drink, the door opened.

"Nice speech," Vanni said dully, and took the armchair farthest from Jackson. His blond hair, normally buzzed close to his head, had grown since the last time Jackson had seen him.

Rinzen followed him in silently, sitting on the other end of the sofa. He looked solemn and tired.

Jackson set his cup on the coffee table. He looked at Vanni and raised an eyebrow slightly, silently asking for confirmation that anyone who would have the slightest chance of overhearing them had been compelled to leave the vicinity.

Vanni nodded. His eyes were cool and slightly accusing.

Jackson looked calmly between them. It didn't take a cognitive Talent to understand that Rin and Vanni had been deeply disturbed by the events of the past few months, from Strauss's taking over KGA to Jin's sudden departure to Jackson's unexplained return to the inner chambers of the organization he'd promised to free them from.

Jackson's Talents had learned to trust him and his precognition, even in defiance of their own reason and instincts, but circumstances had never been so extreme.

Still, he wasn't worried.

"Where's Jin?" Rin asked hesitantly.

"He's safe. We'll meet him at the end of the month, when we detach ourselves from KGA."

Rin turned fully towards Jackson, startled, and Vanni's eyes sharpened.

"Leave KGA?" Rin asked with something between disbelief and apprehension. "Now? This month?"

"It won't be easy," Jackson said calmly. "Nor will it be quick."

"And if they catch us..." Vanni murmured, and looked at his younger teammate. " _Viv-i-sec-tion._ "

Jackson gave the empath a cool look. "Worse than that, Giovanni."

The Tibetan shook his head, his brow furrowed. "But Strauss..."

"Strauss will stop at nothing to track us down. It will be a personal vendetta for him, and he'll devote all of KGA's resources to the cause. This won't be easy, but we will win. KGA will be gone by the end of the year."

There was silence. They had known of his plan to take down KGA for years—it had played no small part in earning their allegiance. But as much as they trusted him to do what he said he would do, the concept had seemed to them like a distant abstraction. Now it was an active operation.

Jackson took a sip of coffee and let the young men digest this development.

"So," Vanni said at last, leaning back in the couch with his bored, almost sleepy expression back in place, as though this were just another briefing, the beginning of any other assignment. "What's the first step?"

"Jin is hiding in Paris with a group of Talents unknown to KGA. They have been living independently for several years."

"KGA doesn't know about them?" Rin frowned, incredulous.

"That's correct. They're very powerful and highly trained, not as psychics, but as special agents. They use their shields and psychic bonds to remain undetected. We will do the same. Jin has been learning all their strategies."

"And then?"

"They have certain other resources that will be put to valuable use. Certain weapons, in particular."

Vanni's eyes gleamed. "So it's war."

"War," Rin repeated curiously, as though testing the word on his lips. He looked at Jackson, head tilted slightly. "Four of us. Six rogue Talents. A start-up security agency." He paused, slowly tilting his head to the other side with something like bemusement in his eyes. "Strauss, six hundred Talents, and KGA."

Vanni looked at Jackson and grinned. "Sounds like fun."

#  30. Playing Chicken

Jin was already smiling when two sharp raps came at his door. "It's open," he crooned.

Sky burst in, his blue-gray eyes landing on the telepath in his recliner with a look of complete hatred. "You," he hissed.

Jin blinked innocently at him. "Me?" His eyes moved up and down Sky's body, taking in the dark gray sweatpants and white tee shirt, the athletic shoes and the blond hair pulled back. "Are those your pajamas, or is that how you dressed to come and kick my ass for shooting your alleged brother in the stomach?"

"Shut up," Sky snapped, slamming the door behind him. "Just fucking shut up."

"Oh!" Jin lifted his hands in mock surprise. "I beg your pardon. What is it you came to tell me?"

"You..."

"Wait," Jin interrupted, and rose from the chair. He picked up the ottoman and carried it towards Sky, then set it down and perched himself attentively upon it, looking up at the empath with his hands clasped in his lap. "Proceed," he said sweetly.

Sky's cheeks were pink with rage, his fists clenched so tightly the knuckles were white.

Jin's mocking façade crumbled, his amusement winning out. "You can't do anything, can you?" he taunted gleefully. "You can't hit me. You know I'm too fast. You can't kill me. You're not strong enough. You can't make them hate me. They don't take you seriously."

The empath's lips curled. "I could make _him_ hate you."

Jin burst out laughing, his head falling back. "That's right! You could do that."

"What's funny about it?" Sky demanded.

Jin got up, still snickering, and grabbed Sky's wrists.

"Let go!" Sky snarled as Jin pushed him back against the wall, pinning his hands near his head.

"No, I wanna tell you what's funny about it," Jin said, pushing his body against Sky's. His voice dropped to a dark purr. "You are such a fucking scumbag."

_"Me_?" Sky bared his teeth, disgusted, and yanked helplessly against Jin's grip.

"You, baby." Jin smiled wickedly. "Just like every empath I've ever known. Selfish little snakes, with that sneaky Talent of yours..."

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"Shouldn't be surprised you'd do it to your own brother," Jin murmured. "Work yourself in under his shields like one of your old sugar daddies slipping his fingers under a school girl's skirt."

Sky stiffened, his eyes going wide. "I'm going to fucking kill you," he said, astonished.

"For what, a simile?" Jin suddenly pulled Sky away from the wall. He twisted the blond's arms behind his back effortlessly, pushing him toward the recliner. "Jesus, Skittles, didn't anybody ever teach you how to fight?" He turned and sat in the recliner, pulling Sky backwards onto his lap. "Then again, I know how much you like to lose."

"Let me go," Sky snarled.

"Say please and I will." Jin locked one arm through both of Sky's and moved his free hand over the blond's tense abdomen, squeezing and feeling.

_"Fuck_ you!"

"That's what I thought." Jin buried his face in his captive's neck, sucking up a mouthful of smooth, golden skin. His hand moved down Sky's thigh, groping the slim muscles. "Come on, kitten. Isn't this what you came for?"

"Goddamn you!" Sky shouted suddenly, and wrenched himself free of Jin's grasp. His elbow connected with the telepath's shoulder as he stumbled to his feet, and as Jin sounded a complaint, Sky lunged for the gun on the dining table.

Jin laughed at him yet again. He reached down to pull the lever for the recliner, dropping the seat back and stretching out along the length of it with his hands above his head. "Cupcake," he said, shaking his head as Sky fixed the gun on him. "You are one high-maintenance playmate."

"What's your fucking problem?" Sky yelled, distraught. "What do you _want_?"

"That's a funny question, considering _you're_ the one who stormed in here..." Jin jumped as the gun went off, and turned to look at the smoking hole in the windowsill less than two feet from his head. "Easy!"

"Stay away from him."

"Why should I?" Jin threw out his hands, incredulous. "I'm not the one threatening to fuck with his head."

"You piece of shit." Sky's voice trembled with rage.

"Jesus Christ," Jin groaned, rolling his eyes. "I can tell you're not gonna leave until you've shot me or fucked me. Would you make up your mind?"

"You think you're fucking invincible." Sky adjusted his grip on the gun, his eyes flashing, indignant. "You're not afraid of me at all."

"I'm afraid this is gonna drag on way past the point of being entertaining, as usual." Jin propped his head on one hand, gesturing lackadaisically with the other. "You hate yourself. You hate me. You hate yourself. You hate me. You're a piece of shit. I'm a piece of shit. Heroin, heroin. Ken, Ken. Bitch, bitch, bitch."

Sky slowly lowered the gun. His face had gone strangely flat, the hatred in his eyes fading into tired frustration.

"What? Surprised I could comprehend your incredibly complex personality?" Jin stood up and walked past Sky into the kitchen, taking a bottle of bourbon off of the counter and getting a glass from the cabinet. "I'm a telepath," he reminded Sky with a sigh of boredom.

"What do you want from him?"

Jin shook his head and took a sip of the bourbon. "Why do you start these conversations with me, Skittles? Any way I answer that question, you'd buckle like a sick gazelle." The telepath snickered at his own words.

Sky didn't move, and didn't reply.

"You're gonna wear yourself out, fighting me." Jin watched the blond with a kind of exasperated amusement until he'd finished off his drink. Then he pushed away from the sink and crossed the room, slowly reaching for Sky. "You wanna put that gun down?"

"I wanna kill you with it," Sky whispered, his eyes bleak, even as he let Jin pull him close.

"Well, I'm not that kinky. At least not for you." Jin gently took the gun from Sky's hand and set it on the windowsill behind him. Then, with sudden violence, he grabbed a handful of Sky's hair and wrenched his head back.

Sky stiffened, shoving Jin's chest, but he was no match for the other man's strength and leverage. He hissed as Jin bent him backwards over the dining table.

"Don't be an idiot, Sky," Jin whispered against his neck as he groped a path down the empath's body. "You think I don't know what you want the second you show up here?"

Sky jerked beneath him, straining to get up. "Get off me."

"You think I don't know what you mean when you say that?" Jin clamped his arm over Sky's throat to hold him down. "You're always scared I'll actually back off and leave you alone. Think I don't know what a sick fuck you are?" He spread Sky's legs and shoved his hips between them, grinding the beginning of an erection against his groin.

"Fuck you," Sky snarled, struggling anew. His body whipped and twisted beneath the telepath's, his hands moving to strike.

Jin moved back long enough to turn Sky over, shoving him forward over the table and yanking his pants down to his thighs. He spat on his own palm.

Sky moaned suddenly, his fingers making claws on the wooden table.

"Jesus." Jin laughed like this really astonished him. "You nasty little slut."

"I hate you..."

"So what do you do for people you like?" Jin murmured, squeezing the blond's slender neck with one hand and his rapidly hardening dick with the other.

"Fuck you," Sky breathed.

"Or maybe you never fuck anybody you like. Maybe this is the only way you can get off. Hm? Pushed around, pinned down, nasty names in your ear..." He let go of Sky's cock to unbutton his own jeans. A moment later, he was rubbing his length up and down the cleft of Sky's ass. "That what you like? You miss being a fucktoy, don't you?"

Sky moaned weakly, arching his back.

Jin exhaled and bent over the empath's slender back, and then grabbed his hair again. He dragged him roughly off of the table, forcing him to his knees. "Better make it wet," he whispered, and groaned sharply when the blond's hot mouth closed around his cock.

His head fell back as he listened to the blurred, conflicted thoughts scattered through Sky's head, fragmented words of shame and need and hate and desire. The heady mix was enough to set Jin's blood racing. Looking down at his own rigid length sliding in and out of that perfect face was almost too much for him, and he could only watch for a minute before he pulled Sky's head back.

Blue-gray eyes turned up to meet his, shining with tears and burning with need. He wasn't just soaking up the rough treatment. He was aching for worse.

Those were some wicked thoughts. Jin reached down and took hold of his chin, roughly pulling him up. "You're pushing it," he whispered darkly, his short nails biting into Sky's skin. "But you do know what you want, don't you?"

The empath let out a soft bark of surprise when the back of Jin's hand struck him hard across the cheek. He shuddered visibly.

"Selfish bitch," Jin growled softly. "Look how hard you are." He reached down to land a stinging slap on Sky's flushed and swollen cock, drawing a sharp gasp. "Didn't you hate me a few minutes ago? Weren't you gonna kill me?"

"Just fuck me," Sky blurted, his cheeks aflame.

"Maybe I don't want to," Jin slapped his face again. "Maybe I'd rather go fuck somebody else. Somebody who doesn't make me do all the work."

All at once, his body went stiff as Sky responded with a blast of his Talent. Jin's spine arched with the wave of euphoria that rolled through him, and relaxed as it left him buzzing.

"Oh, you sneaky fuck," he groaned happily, and turned Sky around again. He bent down for a moment to spread the smooth cheeks and spit between them, relishing the empath's flinch.

Sky moaned roughly when he felt the blunt head of Jin's cock rubbing against his tight hole. "Do it..."

"Would that make you feel better?" Jin breathed, pushing slowly forward until he felt the tight entrance begin to spread. "Getting fucked raw?"

A violent shudder ran through Sky's body, and he arched his spine to expose himself more readily. He sobbed when Jin suddenly pulled away.

"Don't move."

Jin returned a moment later, and when he pressed against Sky's entrance again he was slick and ready. A long, unsteady breath escaped him as he started to slide slowly into the tight passage, his fingers bruising Sky's hips.

Sky gasped beneath him, trembling, moaning sharply when Jin started to fuck him in deep, steady thrusts.

"Filthy," Jin breathed, and slapped his ass hard. He did it again, savoring Sky's cries and the way his shivering body jolted. "You _do_ miss it, don't you?" he groaned, working his hips steadily. "Miss being used and fucked and passed around, huh?"

The helpless, broken cry, and the needy gyrations of Sky's hips were a clear reply.

"You know how fucked up that is? You know what a sicko that makes you?" Jin wrapped his hand around Sky's neck and hauled him up until he could speak against his ear. "And I'm the only one here," he groaned. "Only one you can come to..."

Sky's rough cry was choked off by Jin's grip on his throat. He worked his hips back against the telepath, wordlessly begging for more.

"I know what you need," Jin hissed. "Does that make you sick? I know what you are."

The empath's body was pulling tight now, shaking with the telltale tremors of impending orgasm. "No..." he gasped, and grabbed Jin's wrist at his throat.

"You love this, you twisted piece of shit cocksucking slut." Jin scraped his teeth against his ear. "Worthless— _whore_."

Sky came with a rough cry, bucking wildly and shuddering with each wave of his climax. He let it run over Jin, making no effort to contain his Talent.

Jin couldn't even hear himself in the avalanche. His vision went white. He fell over Sky, grinding him into the table as the storm of anguished, ecstatic sensation thundered through him.

Sky was a pain, yeah. But the payoff was amazing.

Minutes later he was still catching his breath, but he carefully pulled away from the empath. Sky's face was turned to the side on the table. His eyes were closed, his cheeks red, his temples damp with sweat. He looked as fucked out as Jin had ever seen him, and that was saying something.

"I'm taking a shower," Jin said, patting him on the back before he turned away. "Thanks for the wholesome fun, as always."

It didn't surprise him when he heard Sky storming out of the apartment before the shower even started. Sucked to be him. Jin sighed contentedly under the hot spray, perfectly satisfied.

Returning to the recliner, he picked up the book he'd discreetly dropped between the chair and the wall when the blond had busted into the apartment in the first place.

Another fucking day in Paris.

#  31. Inside Affairs

Kel was sitting on the sofa in his office with a tablet in his hand, frowning. It was hard to make broad assessments when he got most of his information through a smattering of insecure communication lines between KGA field agents around the world.

But this time, troublingly, they were all saying the same thing. The hunt for Jin was intensifying, and under Strauss's command KGA agents were fanning out like never before. It was starting to look like it was time to get out of France. Maybe even take ARSI off the continent altogether.

On one hand, KGA's sweepers focused their searches on Talent. The odds that they'd stumble into the classified thoughts of an off-duty, non-Talent ARSI agent seemed low, and the few top agents who knew about the superhuman phenomenon at the heart of ARSI had been intensively trained to keep thoughts of work at bay when they were off site. On the other hand, they were only human. All the meditation practice in the world couldn't guarantee that their thoughts were really secure.

All in all, KGA was making it increasingly difficult to exist off the grid. But if that was ever going to change, ARSI needed to grow. It was a tough dilemma.

A tone from the door announced a visitor. Kel got up to answer.

"Dr. Fowler," he greeted. "Come in."

She nodded and stepped inside, dressed in a dark crewneck shirt and simple gray trousers, her dark hair pulled up in a slightly disheveled bun. "I came to report on our progress with Project Quietus."

Kel gestured for her to sit on the sofa and took the chair behind the desk, waiting for her to speak. Small talk had never come naturally to him, so he had never bothered.

Fowler didn't mind. She was opening her notes and getting right to it. "Our initial findings have been incredibly challenging to evaluate," she said. "There's so much happening outside the established rules of science."

"Lip will want to discuss it in detail. I'll take the short version."

"Well, the cells are frozen in place. Suspended in time." She winced slightly, as if anticipating his disbelief.

Kel found it amusing that Fowler would expect him to be skeptical. He was a Talent. "We figured," he said.

"Yes." Fowler nodded. "Well, that's the only accurate description I have at the moment."

"No deterioration whatsoever?"

"Not that we've found so far, unless you count the dehydration. Quite severe dehydration. Mark did report that he felt thirsty upon being brought back to life." She tapped her pen on her pad. "I'd like to interview Ken about his experience waking up."

"That won't happen." When Fowler looked surprised, he said, "Ken's not willing to be examined in any capacity."

"Ever?"

"It's extremely unlikely."

Fowler frowned. Of course she wasn't happy to hear that. Ken's experience would likely offer a world of new insights. But Kel knew it was out of the question.

The most remarkable thing about Ken was his cunning way of looking out for himself. After a lifetime of isolation, he had only six months of experience with the fundamentals of human interaction, communication and culture that everyone else was attuned to. Kel sensed that Ken recognized this as a disadvantage. Since day one he'd been methodically scrutinizing everything he encountered. Watching, listening, steadily working to learn the terrain.

The thing was, Ken didn't just want to catch up. He wanted to have an edge. So of course he fiercely guarded the only information _he_ had over anyone else: everything about himself. Everyone wanted to know what Ken could do, what his Talents were, or if he even knew for himself.

But Ken wasn't telling. And there wasn't a chance he'd allow a scientist to examine him and find something out before he did. Not a chance.

Not many people had that kind of grasp in the power of information. Kel approved.

Fowler's initial displeasure settled into grudging acceptance. "All right," she said. "But it's unfortunate. We don't have a lot of evidence to work with, here."

"And it could be a long time before you hit a breakthrough in your research."

"Yes. It could."

"That could be discouraging."

"It's not."

"Good."

"If I may," Fowler said, changing gears. "There's something I wanted to ask you. You said David may have willed himself to die. What do you mean by that?"

Kel frowned.

"Would you be able to do the same, if you wished? Would you know how?"

"I've wondered the same. I don't know. That's why we're calling it a probable suicide. It's possible the real cause of death was something more like exhaustion."

"Yet he looked so healthy."

"One of the strangest things about Talents is the force of our minds." He frowned thoughtfully. "An emotion can seem like an active substance, a chemical influence."

"Do you mean that literally?"

"Possibly."

Dr. Fowler pursed her lips, thinking for a moment before she asked, "Is that how you would explain the apparent psychological volatility in Talents?"

"Possibly."

"But you're saying there could have been something particular going on in David's mind that enabled the mechanism leading to his death."

"Possibly."

She smiled. "Would you mind if I asked you a few questions about your own experience as a Talent?"

Kel leaned back in his chair, realizing he'd gotten himself into what was clearly more of a Lip conversation. He himself was so well known for being taciturn that people rarely attempted to pull him into spontaneous discussions.

It was all right, though. Fowler was worth the time. He gave her a nod.

"When did you first perceive what turned out to be Talent?"

Kel rubbed his chin, looking idly at the desk as he spoke. "Talent doesn't show much in childhood. Certain physical advantages were always there. We've talked about it. We didn't get sick as kids. We excelled athletically. We were thought of as extremely bright. But we still felt normal. Puberty was when we all started feeling different. We were faster and stronger than everyone else. Lip was a kickboxing prodigy. I was training for the Olympics in Senegal. I was thirteen when I realized there was something more going on with me than just athletic ability." Seeing the question on the tip of her tongue, he said, "I was a swimmer."

"Ah. What did you do with that realization? That something was going on?"

"I quit swimming, left my family and ran away to Dakar."

"Why?"

"I had a bad feeling about staying with my family. I thought whatever was going on with me could bring them trouble. It seemed like it was in my best interest to cut ties and go under the radar."

"That seems like a mature choice. Hypercognition, maybe?"

"Or common sense."

"How did you end up meeting the others?"

"There was a paramilitary agency that recruited us all when we were fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. First Jen and Mark, and then Lip, and then me. They seemed to know as little about us as we know now, but they were less interested in figuring it out than sending us out on assignments. We liked the work. It paid well. We went on like that for about eight years. One day while we were all out on an assignment together, the place got wiped out by another Talent-centric organization." KGA, he had later concluded. "Completely eradicated. No trace left, no records, no survivors. After that we went underground for a few years, and then we started ARSI."

"This other organization was looking for you, I assume?"

"Actually, we could never confirm that. It's highly unlikely that they would have given up the search if we were the primary targets. Possibly there were other reasons. Simple competition, maybe. Espionage is a mean business. There's also the likelihood that there were other Talents associated with the agency, which is the only conceivable way they could have found so many of us in the first place. Could have been a freelance psychic who attracted the wrong kind of attention."

Fowler nodded, frowning as she considered all of this information. "I have one more question, if you don't mind. Physical and cognitive Talent seem to have made early appearances. What about psychic Talent?"

"From ages twelve to about twenty-one, according to intelligence we've gathered from another Talent-centric organization."

Fowler tilted her head. "Is there any chance I could access the intelligence from this other 'Talent-centric organization'?"

Kel's thoughts circled back to what he'd been mulling over when Fowler came in. "I want you to have all the information you need, but we still have some security concerns to work through."

"If there are additional security measures to take, I'm willing to take them."

"Noted. I appreciate your commitment."

"I appreciate your decision to involve me in this research." Fowler stood up. "I hope I haven't taken up too much of your time."

"Not at all." Kel stood to see her to the door.

When Fowler was gone, Kel went back to the sofa and propped his elbows on his knees, rubbing his face with both hands.

Fowler's research was important, and so was making sure Jen had really been neutralized. But his mind was dragging him further ahead.

Losing Luke felt like the end of their miserable, bizarre battle with Jen. But Jin's arrival marked the start of another war.

The change in leadership at KGA was already affecting them. How long could they stay hidden with Wilhelm Strauss's psychic hunting parties combing the globe?

KGA had hundreds of trained Talents, who were incidentally making hundreds of billions of dollars. ARSI had a handful of misfits, half of whom had military training but who spent half of their time either dealing with debilitating psychological issues or fucking like rabbits.

He sat back in the sofa heavily, dropping his hands to his lap. The last several months had been terrible, and the next several months would be grueling.

They needed to get serious. Maybe Jin's arrival was something they could capitalize on. They needed intelligence, resources, and a strategy.

If Jackson Gadamer intended to offer an alliance when he went rogue, they might be able to improve their position. Harboring the telepath might be less an act of generosity than a grab for a lifeline.

#  32. Slumber Party!

Someone was climbing through the window. It woke Ken up.

He didn't move, narrowing his eyes in the dark to watch the shape of a person enter. Who would be stupid enough to crawl into his window at night? Not even Sky was that bad. Was it a burglar? A kidnapper? One of those KGA guys looking for Jin? Was he going to have to kill somebody?

The figure crossed the room. Whoever it was, was carrying a plastic grocery bag. That would seem to rule out any serious threats, but what did he know? The intruder crossed the room, reached up, and pushed back the hood of a sweatshirt. A wild head of hair sprang free, its outline clear even in the dark.

"Hey, half-pint," Jin whispered.

Ken stared at him, so disarmed by the audacity of this act that he wasn't even mad, or annoyed, or appalled. Just astounded. After a long moment of speechlessness, he asked with a note of wonder, "What the fuck do you _want_?"

"Where are you picking up this language?" Jin laughed. "Move over, I need to sleep here."

Ken said nothing, mystified.

"I can take the floor, if you really want."

"Why?"

"I don't wanna sleep alone."

What the hell was he talking about? Once in awhile—often, maybe—Ken was caught so off-guard by Jin's bizarre behavior and offbeat remarks that it was hard to find words to respond. "You've been fine so far."

"No, I've had company. None tonight. Well, except for Sky."

Gross. "Get out."

"Come on. Please?" Jin held up his hands innocently. "No funny business."

With a sound of disgust, Ken turned away. Who said anything about funny business?

"All right," Jin said cheerily, and hopped up onto the bed to lie beside Ken.

Ken froze, startled. He hadn't meant that as permission. What was he supposed to do now? If he turned around to protest, Jin would think he'd succeeded in getting under his skin. But if he didn't, then...

What was Jin trying to do?

"You like dinosaurs?" Jin asked.

Ken just lay there for a moment, then slowly sat up and turned to look at Jin.

The telepath was sprawled on his back, looking comfortable in a tee shirt and blue trousers, his wild hair making a dark, jagged halo against the white pillow, and he met Ken's eyes with a pleasant look.

After a moment, he casually went on. "You got a _favorite_ dinosaur?"

Ken said nothing. He looked away from the telepath, blinking at nothing. Of all the questions...

"Ever been to a museum?" Jin asked.

"No," Ken said slowly, looking at Jin again. He weighed his options. If he ordered Jin to leave, would he? If Jin resisted, Ken would have to either back down, or call Aki for help. His eyes narrowed at the thought of those possibilities. Was it worth the risk?

Maybe it was better to just go along with the weirdness. Besides, once in awhile, Jin was kind of funny. Kind of.

Jin was smiling back at him like they were in on a joke together. His grin was a bright sliver in the dark. Then, suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "Oh, yeah!" He reached beside the bed for the plastic bag and pulled himself up to half-sit against the pillows. "You don't mind if I eat this, do you?" He pulled a small carton of ice cream out of the bag.

_What flavor is it?_ Ken almost asked, but stopped himself. "Who eats ice cream in the middle of the night?"

"Are you kidding?" Jin laughed in disbelief, putting the lid aside and digging his plastic spoon in. "You never heard of a midnight snack?"

"No." It sounded like a good idea, though.

Jin held the carton out to him. "What do you like better, chocolate or strawberry?"

Ken reached out more cautiously than he meant to, as though it might be booby-trapped. "Strawberry," he answered slowly.

"Same here," Jin said. "What do you think of that vegan shit?" When Ken frowned, he continued, "You know, Mark and Dylan. They don't eat any meat or cheese or anything."

Ken shrugged. "Lip eats it."

"What about Aki?"

"He does, too." That reminded him. When was the last time he'd eaten with Aki? Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Aki eating anything more than a modest bowl of rice or some soup. Aki usually took care of himself as far as his body was concerned. But still. Maybe Ken could get him to go out and eat somewhere. That seemed like a good idea.

He frowned into the dessert and took a bite. Then he looked at Jin, his frown deepening. How had this happened? The last thing he'd intended to do was share his bed and a pint of ice cream with the telepath.

Jin seemed completely unbothered. He held his hand out for the ice cream. "How's your guts?"

Ken passed it back. "Fine."

"Did you get in trouble?"

Ken nodded. He almost smiled remembering Aki's astonished face when Ken had confessed to stealing the bike. Ken had never seen him so surprised. There had been a brief threat of outrage when he heard how Ken had come to be shot in the stomach, but he'd calmed down when he heard how Jin had rushed him back to the clinic and fixed him up. By the time Ken finished recounting the whole night, he could tell how hard Aki was trying not to smile.

Aki had, however, immediately called Lip, who made a trip down from ARSI for the sole purpose of sitting Ken on the couch for a stern lecture.

"First of all," Lip had said in his most stern, intimidating tone, the one he probably used with his students at ARSI, "you don't take things without permission, unless it's an emergency. I loved that bike! Second, you don't go chasing after people without telling anybody. Jesus, anything could have happened!" The Aussie went on to express his astonishment at Ken's recklessness and to declare him grounded from operating any vehicles for the next three months.

That was unexpected. Aki had to explain the concept of being grounded, and though Ken should have been annoyed, he was sort of just amused. Whenever Lip told him what to do, there was something so warm and earnest about it that it just made Ken like him more.

_"I_ didn't get into any trouble," Jin bragged, and took a large bite of ice cream. "Kind of expected to. Bruce Lee's not planning an ambush, is he?"

Ken gave him a bland look. Like Aki would be so dramatic.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"No." Aki wasn't Sky. He'd never throw a fit over something an accident. Now, if Jin ever hurt him intentionally, Ken was pretty sure Aki would disembowel him or something—but he'd do it quietly and swiftly. Ken smirked at the thought.

"That's not very reassuring," Jin said skeptically. "But I guess it'll have to do." He put the empty carton and spoon in the bag and tossed it onto the floor.

Ken slowly lay down. "I'm tired."

Jin yawned, stretching. "Me, too."

Ken looked at the telepath again, warily considering the implications at hand. After a moment he said, "If you're trying to make trouble, you're an idiot."

Jin laughed as though surprised. It was a warm and genuine sound Ken had heard a couple of times before, different from the telepath's usual gleeful snickers, cackles, and snorts. And just like the other times, it caught Ken off guard somehow.

"What kind of trouble you think I'm trying to make?" Jin asked.

Ken narrowed his eyes. "Sky."

Jin gave him a wry look. After a pause he said, "Sky makes his own fucking trouble."

Something in that reply hit Ken the right way.

He didn't know why. There was nothing particularly profound about it, and he had no reason to trust that Jin wasn't just trying to stir up drama for his own amusement. Plus, Ken already knew that. Everybody knew it.

But there was something about Jin's tone, something easy and knowing and confident...

"Whatever," Ken muttered, and turned over.

"G'night, kiddo," Jin said breezily.

Ken opened his eyes for another moment. _Kiddo?_

Whatever.

He closed his eyes again.

Somehow, he slept fine.

#  33. Sky Lights a Beacon

Aki was sitting on the sofa reading a news article on his phone when Sky raged into the house, fists clenched and eyes wild. The blond's unhinged energy brought Aki to his feet immediately.

"Where's Ken?" Sky demanded.

"Stop." Aki stepped into his path, holding a hand out to halt him. "You can't come in here like that. What's going on?"

Sky stopped, but he didn't calm down. He was pale and tense, and he looked like he wanted to kill. "What happened?" he demanded.

Aki's brow furrowed. "What happened with what?"

"They were in _bed_ together."

Something told Aki this wasn't going anywhere good. "Who?"

"Ken." Sky's voice trembled. "And _Jin_."

"What..." Aki felt his face contort with surprise, and then distaste. Not because of the information, but because it would be inconceivably selfish for Sky to storm into Ken's house demanding an explanation he had no right whatsoever to demand. "My god, Sky, what is _wrong_ with you?"

"What's wrong with _you_?" Sky shouted suddenly. "You're supposed to be watching him! Did you even _know_? That sick piece of shit is in his bedroom at night and you don't even care!"

Aki narrowed his eyes, anger sliding up his spine. No way was Sky getting anywhere near Ken in this state.

"Where is he?" Sky demanded again.

"None of your business," Aki said sharply. " _None_ of this is your business, Sky."

What did Sky _want_? While Jin and Ken did have an unexpected kind of chemistry, Aki found it hard to believe they had been sexually intimate. Slept in the same room, sure. Could Sky's empathy not tell the difference? And what did it matter? What could Sky possibly have to say about it?

More to the point, how could he not consider how that would make Ken feel? How much worse it would make things between them? This was maddening.

"I'm supposed to be able to find him," Sky said through gritted teeth. "But I can't feel him. He's gone somewhere to shut me out."

"Good."

"How could you be so fucking careless after everything that's happened?"

"You don't know what you're saying," Aki said evenly, his temper bristling at that last remark. "What you're doing is wrong."

"Like you've done any better," Sky shouted. "Just because you couldn't save someone doesn't mean I can't."

That did it. "Go fuck yourself, Sky."

Aki was only human. But he had chosen the worst possible moment to escalate a confrontation with the unstable empath. Sky moved as if to scream at him, but if he made a sound, Aki didn't hear it. Because that was when Sky's Talent exploded, and Aki caught the full force of the blast.

The empath's psychic outburst instantly destroyed the fragile veils Aki now called shields, roaring into his vulnerable mind like a raging hurricane of pain and despair. Aki clenched his teeth, mentally scrambling for a foothold, desperate not to lose himself in panic.

"Sky," he managed to choke out, falling to his knees. He felt Sky's hands catch his shoulders, heard the empath's distraught apologies, but the fire was already started in Aki's head, and the flames were raging like they'd been craving the chance to do this again.

This couldn't be happening again. Not now.

"I'm sorry," Sky said in a strangled voice. "I didn't mean to."

Was he walking away? That was the last thought Aki had before they all turned to screams.

\- - -

Several miles away, in a pleasant green plaza near the edge of the city, Ken went tense stood up from his bench.

He'd been blocking his empathic link with Sky all day. It took more effort than he usually cared to spend. But after waking up with Jin in his bed, Ken had randomly thought of Sky and decided today would be a good day to close those curtains.

It was no use, apparently. Sky's apparent loss of control rang out so hard it rattled his shields.

Ken started walking without a plan, warily wondering what had happened. It could be anything with Sky. Was he in trouble? Was he freaking out about something? Had he found out about the sleepover and thrown a tantrum?

Reaching the sidewalk, Ken stopped and closed his eyes, putting a hand to his forehead. It looked like he was about to find out. He could feel Sky coming his way, and it was giving him a serious headache.

They'd been doing okay, he'd thought. Lesson learned. One peaceful week didn't mean Sky could be trusted. Ken had been dumb to think they might be able to get along.

Briefly, he considering stealing a motorcycle and escaping. He was pretty sure Lip would forgive him in this case. But instead he turned and went back to the plaza, crossing the cobblestone square and heading into the sparsely wooded park beyond the edge. There he sat on a fairly secluded bench and crossed his arms with a dark scowl. Might as well get it over with.

The closer Sky got, the more Ken's head hurt. In fact, the effect of the empath's unhinged emotions across their link was so aggressively uncomfortable that Ken was tempted to push back. He hated using his Talent—hated giving anyone a hint of what he was capable of—but Sky was crossing lines now, and whatever the reason could be, it was pissing Ken off.

At last Sky came into sight, down the path toward Ken. He looking completely furious, and it was coming off of him in sharp, stabbing spikes. Like a porcupine of feelings.

And now Ken was pissed. Really pissed, in fact. He could tell that some of it Sky's fury bleeding over their link, but that just increased Ken's own anger at the whole situation. How dare Sky come at him with that look on his face? Like Ken had wronged him somehow?

Ken rose to his feet as Sky drew close, and by then he felt like ripping something in half.

"How could you?" Sky demanded.

"How could I _what?_ "

"You know what."

Well, now Ken did know. He'd had way more exposure to Sky's feelings than he ever wanted, and now he recognized a particular kind of shame flickering around the edges of his brother's fury, and in Sky that kind of shame always went with sex.

And now, Ken was really mad. It was bad enough that he could count on Sky to be mad that he let Jin hang out in his room. But Sky seemed to think there had been sex. Sky had come to accuse him of having sex with Jin.

"Say it," Ken said, glowering at him. "Say it out loud so you know how _stupid_ you sound."

The effect of fury on Sky's face was incredible. His cheeks were flushed, his blue-gray eyes wide, and when he spoke, his pink lips curled to bare his perfect, pearly teeth. "I can't say it," he sneered. "It makes me _sick._ "

"Control yourself," Ken hissed. "You're giving everyone a fucking headache."

"Did you do it to hurt me?"

Ken could only stare at him, aghast.

"Is that it?" Sky held out his hands, his motions jerky with impatience. "You did it because I told you not to?"

"You're insane," Ken said through his teeth. "You're _actually_ psychotic."

Sky's ranting and raving had stopped Ken from noticing Jin's approach. Now he saw the telepath walking up behind Sky, and he looked angriest of all.

Jin grabbed Sky by the shoulder, spun him around and punched him straight in the face. Ken stepped back, astonished, as Sky hit the ground.

"You stupid fuck," Jin snapped, and kicked Sky once in the side. "If you can't shut your fucking head up by the count of three, I'm knocking you out. One."

A sharp pop rang out, making Ken jump, and Jin's left shoulder jerked back. Sky had a gun, Ken realized, and lunged for it.

"It's fine." Jin said. "He's out."

Ken lifted the small gun easily from Sky's limp hand—why did Sky always have a weapon in his pocket?—and then blinked down at his lifeless form. Suddenly the headache was gone.

"He's not dead," Jin said. "Come on. We gotta go."

"Why?"

Jin grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him up. "Because the village idiot just sent out the psychic equivalent of a siren, and there's only so much I'm willing to bet on the Butterscotch Force Field."

"The...what?" Ken tried to jerk out of Jin's grip, but then gave up and went along as the telepath raced through the trees. "What about Sky?"

"He'll land on his feet. Probably." They reached another border of the park and hit the street. A car screeched to a halt in front of them, and the driver stumbled out in a daze. Jin jumped behind the wheel. "Get in."

Ken got in on the other side, pulling his door shut as Jin raced off down the street. He looked back toward where they'd left Sky, uneasy. "Is he going to wake up?"

"Kel will get him."

"You think KGA heard his tantrum?"

"Yes."

"Did your boss predict that?"

Jin glanced at him. "Maybe."

"Where are we going?"

"To pick up Aki."

Ken relaxed slightly. He looked at Jin's bleeding shoulder. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," Jin grimaced. "I should've made you drive."

"I'm grounded."

Jin glanced at him in surprise, and then a smirk danced across his lips. "I wouldn't tell anyone," he said.

Ken looked at the road ahead, interested in this strange new turn of events. "Does this mean psychics are coming to get us?"

Jin cast him a glance, arching a brow. "You realize how bad that would be, right?"

"It'd be your fault."

"No, it'd be Sky's fault."

"You and him both." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Aki.

Jin sighed heavily. "It'll be fine."

"Because your boss said so?" Aki's phone was ringing.

"You gonna heckle me 'til I bleed to death?"

"You're not bleeding to death. And I didn't shoot you." The call went to voicemail. Ken lowered the phone, frowning.

They reached the house before long, and Jin screeched to a halt in front. "Quick," he said. "Let's get him in the car."

Ken looked sharply at him and jumped out of the car to run in ahead of Jin. He didn't like that phrasing. Was something wrong with Aki?

Aki was on the floor just inside the living room, clutching his head.

"What happened?" Ken dropped to his knees, alarmed and uncertain, looking for injuries.

"Your brother happened." Jin was checking out his own shoulder, grimacing in pain.

Ken looked up at him, stunned. "What?"

"This was ground zero for that tantrum. Argument with Aki set it off." Jin's blue eyes sharpened then, and he went still for a moment before he leaned down and hauled Aki up off of the floor in a fireman's carry. "Let's go to your room."

"Not the car?" Ken asked, but followed anyway.

"Company's coming, half-pint."

#  34. Together Again

Jin shut the bedroom door and leaned against it, swearing. His shoulder was on fire.

He looked at the bed. Aki was sitting up, but he was still gripping his head, and he still hadn't said anything. The shrieks of psychic pain coming from his mind were making Jin ill. KGA's labs were full of "recruits" mangled by Strauss's program. Jin had been one of them once. His head must have sounded like that, too. Screams only other psychics could hear.

There wasn't anything to be done for Aki. Jin's own head was still ringing from Sky's incredible hissy fit, and he _had_ all his shields. Aki's open wound of a brain didn't stand a chance against a blow-up like that.

Mark and Lip would arrive soon enough. They would have heard the commotion.

Meanwhile, as far as Jin could tell, he and Ken were sitting ducks. It had been hard enough to trust this stupid arrangement in the first place, no matter how confident Jackson was in the Paris Talents' innovative way of combining shields across distances. It hadn't stopped Sky's hysterical outburst from giving all of Paris a sudden collective migraine, had it?

Times like this sucked. Jackson had told him he'd be safe with the Paris Talents, and Jackson was never wrong.

But now he could feel psychics approaching, and they were _not_ members of the Butterscotch Gang.

Jesus. Were they going to pass by without incident, or was Jin going to have to pull off another untraceable kill?

Life on the run was getting real fucking old.

Suddenly, Aki's screaming head went quiet.

Jin looked over again in surprise. Aki was lying down on his side, and Ken was whispering in his ear. Jin tilted his head, giving Aki's mind a sweep. To his confusion, the Japanese boy was starting to take mental stock of where he was and what had happened. His thoughts were weak, but...

Ken straightened up and met Jin's eyes, confrontationally, as if to ask what Jin was looking at.

"What did you just do?" Jin asked Ken, intrigued. His head was going to be sore as hell, but other than that...

"Nothing."

Jin narrowed his eyes curiously. But now wasn't the time. He couldn't feel the approaching Talents anymore, which wasn't usually a good sign. The quieter they were, the closer they could be. So he turned and reached for the doorknob. "Stay here."

"Why?"

Jin sighed and glanced back towards him. "Just stay here. Put those shields to use." He closed the door on Damien and the Karate Kid and shook his head as he moved down the hallway, scowling at this new turn of events.

Sky. That fucking idiot.

At the end of the hallway, he stopped short.

Once in awhile, Giovanni liked to make an entrance. The Italian empath was perched on the arm of the chair, smoking a cigarette and balancing a knife by the handle on his fingertip. The blade was still smeared with red. He gave Jin a characteristically evil-looking smile, caught the knife, and saluted with it like the cliché that he was.

Jin stared at him, speechless. "The fuck did you kill?" he asked at last.

"The telepath they stuck me with. Casey."

"The fuck was he doing?"

"Everybody's looking for you," Vanni said, and slid off of the arm of the chair. He grabbed Jin by the back of the neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Jin wiped the spot with his palm. "You found me," he said, still stunned.

"Found you _early_ ," Vanni said, and continued into the kitchen. "I should get a prize."

"Wait a minute." Jin followed him. "Who are you with? Who's in France?"

Vanni leaned back against the counter, wiping his knife with a dishtowel. "Jackson, Rin, me, and a team of throwaways. Strauss got sick of all the dead ends and deployed us. We're supposed to find you and bring you back. Obviously we're not going to."

"Shit." So the whole team had gotten out of KGA. Jin felt the smile slowly spreading across his face. He peeled off his shirt and grabbed another dishtowel, pressing it against the wound in his shoulder. "So what's the real plan?"

Vanni smirked at him and opened his leather vest, showing a glimpse of various holsters and sheaths inside. He slid the knife into its holder and put his hands in the pockets of his worn-out jeans, looking slyly at Jin. "Find you and your new friends, kill off the temp Talents and get out of Europe."

"Jesus," Jin said, startled by the simplicity of it.

"Jackson," Vanni corrected. "Of course, far as I know, the empathic beacon wasn't part of the plan. Whose fault was that?"

"Sky. Death Hooker of Osaka. Remember?"

"Kind of." Vanni went to the fridge and opened it up, pulling out a beer. "Anyway, I'm the only one who followed Casey to Paris, so I guess I'll dump him and head back to Jackson." He cracked the beer and took a swig, then reached into his pocket and took out a cell phone. "Here's my phone. Give him a call. I'll be outside."

Jin caught the phone and dialed immediately.

Jackson's deep, cold voice hit his ear like a greeting from God. "Yes."

Jin turned and propped his forehead against the refrigerator. "Papa bear," he purred.

After a beat, Jackson sighed the way he always did when Jin said something disgusting or childish.

Jin bit his lip, soaking it up. Jackson could spit on him right then and it would make him happy. God, it was good to make contact. "You gonna set my mind at ease, general?"

"I doubt it," Jackson said crisply. "Vanni told me there was an empathic blast from one of your Talents. Has that been resolved?"

One of _his_ Talents? As if. "Sky. From Osaka, Iida's little toy empath. He threw an epic tantrum. I knocked him out and left him in the park. I guess he'll get thrown in the drunk tank."

"I see. Just a moment."

Jin waited while Jackson did his voodoo, his eyes still closed as he let that deep, masculine voice rumble through his body. He could picture the man now, standing up with a cup of coffee in his hand, muscular shoulders filling out his expensive shirt. Or perhaps he was leaning back in a desk chair, idly tapping a pen as he spoke into the phone with his cool, calm expression.

"His outburst won't cause us trouble." Jackson said after the pause. "But they've grown cautious. They should head for Spain. There's little KGA presence there at the moment. You'll go with them. Give them my thanks for helping you and tell them I'll make contact soon. We'll continue to search for you here, for the time being."

"Got it," Jin said peacefully. "What are you wearing?"

"Glad to hear you're in standard form," Jackson said dryly.

"You miss me."

"I do," Jackson said simply, as though confirming the weather report. "Get to Spain. We'll be in touch soon."

"Right." The phone cut before he could say more, but he was grinning.

Everything was fine. If Sky had thrown a tantrum any earlier, maybe they'd all be fucked. But, no. Jackson had promised that Jin would be safe in Paris until they could make contact, and once again, Jin had been right to believe him.

He found Vanni on the front steps, smoking a cigarette, and tossed him his phone.

"So, where are they?" Vanni asked. "They leave you all alone in this big house to fend for yourself?"

Jin could never hide surprise from an empath of Vanni's caliber. Vanni's caliber as an empath was the exact reason the question was surprising.

Vanni raised an eyebrow.

"Forget it," Jin deflected. "You'll understand when you meet them." That meant nothing, but it didn't matter. He peered at the car parked outside, with Casey's body slumped in the passenger seat. Vanni was an open psychopath. Refreshing, in Jin's opinion. Also gross. "How long are you planning to drive around with your new friend?"

Vanni gave him a sick grin and clapped him on the shoulder, heading down the path without a word.

Jin watched him go with a mixture of pleasure and bewilderment. As the car disappeared, he shook his head and turned his attention back to the house.

This was getting weird.

Vanni hadn't felt Ken's presence—or Aki's. Ken must have knocked the ninja out, or something. But even then...

Jin went back inside and into the bedroom, where he found Aki sitting up, pale and grimacing, thinking about what to do next. The son of a bitch was fully awake. He was awake, and Ken had hidden him, and _Vanni_ , one of the greatest empaths alive, hadn't seen through it.

It was too much. That was too big a thing to pull off.

Jin fixed his eyes on Ken. The terrible, beautiful little monster simply looked back at him with a condescending mockery of an innocent expression.

Jin shook his head, amazed.

What a day this was.

What a trip it was going to be.

#  35. Six Months Earlier

Jackson was just finishing a call when Jin opened the door to his office. "There's something I want to discuss with you," Jackson said.

"Wedding bells," Jin said, locking the door behind him and sauntering across the large office toward Jackson's desk. "You want me in a dress?"

Jackson gave him a dry look and held up a hand before Jin could come around the desk. He pointed to the chair.

The telepath groaned, turning on his heel and flopping down onto the expensive leather. "What?"

"I imagine you haven't given much thought to the Key Prophecy lately."

Jin looked blankly at him, grimaced, and waved a hand. "Yeah, well. You know me and prophecies." Sticking out his tongue, he blew a raspberry and swung his fist into a thumbs-down.

Jackson gave him a cool, bored look, even as the Russian bared his perfect teeth in a proud grin. "Remind me how you play into the prophecy."

"I find him. And I know him when I find him. 'Cause he'll be a badass, and I'll like him."

"You won't just like him, Jin." He always had to make this correction. "You'll love him."

Another shrug. Jin saw no meaning in the distinction. "Yeah."

Jackson folded his hands on the desk, looking the younger man over. Jin's hair was wilder than usual, and dyed black. He'd been amusing himself by dressing up as _a poet_ recently. Apparently poets smoked clove cigarettes and wore nothing but tight black clothes, Beatle boots, and the occasional beret. It wasn't a bad look for him. Very few things were.

The telepath noticed his appreciative gaze and caught Jackson's eyes with a heated smirk. "Anything else, Jackson?"

"Yes. I've made a miscalculation."

Jin slowly reared back, opening his eyes and mouth wide in a look of grotesque horror.

Jackson felt dangerously close to showing some sign of exasperation, which would be Jin's idea of scoring a point. That was the thing with Jin. Everything was a game, and everyone was playing—whether they liked it or not.

"Well?" Jin demanded, moving to the edge of his seat. "What is it?"

But the game at hand was not a laughing matter. Not even for Jin. "If we don't correct this problem," Jackson said, "we're not going to beat KGA."

As expected, the drama left Jin's face and his demeanor grew cool and attentive.

Finally. "The Key is going to be much more perceptive than I had first anticipated. Which means you'll have very little room to deceive him. He will quickly root out your true motives."

"I guess that's a problem."

"It's not the biggest."

Jin raised his eyebrows.

"The real problem is that your feelings for him will sour your faith in our plans. You won't want to deceive him. This will complicate things. He will sense something is amiss. You will hold back out of guilt. And he'll slip away from us."

Jin looked utterly disgusted, like he'd been accused of wetting the bed. "That really doesn't sound like me."

"No, it doesn't. But the future is very different from the present."

Jin sighed, rolling his eyes as he considered Jackson's claims. "All right," he said at last. "If you say so. What do we do, then?"

Jackson stood up from his chair and rounded the desk, leaning back against it with his hands in his pockets. He knew Jin wasn't going to like this. "Giovanni—"

Jin groaned instantly, like he'd been afraid of this.

"—will help you to become indifferent to the matter of the Key. You won't forget it completely," he said firmly, familiar with Jin's fear of having parts of his mind erased. "He's only going to repress it by removing its emotional resonance. Once you're certain you've found the Key, the entire notion—as well as our plans—will become so irrelevant to your conscious mind that the thoughts will never articulate themselves."

"Sounds like forgetting to me," Jin muttered under his breath, rubbing his face with both hands.

"It will be as good as forgetting. But only temporarily. As soon as your work is done and KGA's destruction is certain, I will reiterate everything to you, prompting you to shake off Giovanni's influence. Those thoughts will find purchase again, and it will be as if you were never influenced in the first place."

The telepath was scowling darkly.

"I'm sorry to ask this of you, Jin," Jackson said quietly. "I promised never to touch your mind without your consent. I won't break that promise. I ask for this now because it is necessary. It is the _only_ way we can take down KGA."

There was a long silence.

Jackson watched his telepath intently, though he already knew what the answer would be. Jin was a brat—irrational, impulsive, and infuriating—but his loyalty was as powerful as his Talent, and his hatred of KGA was even stronger.

At last Jin muttered, "Fine."

Of course it was.

Jackson granted him a warm, approving smile. Such loyalty wasn't to be taken for granted. It had been hard enough to earn.

Jin glanced at Jackson's lips and relaxed slightly, as if he'd drunk up the approval and been soothed by it. "So, when?"

"Giovanni will work with you tomorrow. It's a complex job, and it will take some time. You'll need to guide him through your own psychostructure to ensure that it's done."

"Fine. Whatever." Jin deserved to pout for a moment. No one relished the thought of being manipulated by an empath, no matter how trusted the empath—if one ever really trusted an empath.

But Jin was too restless to sulk for long. Suddenly he threw his limbs out across the arms of the chair and pulled himself into a stretch that suspended him above the cushion.

"I hate thinking about this stupid shit," he groaned, his black shirt riding up to expose his taut abdomen. "I hate the future. And I hate the Key Prophecy." Sighing loudly, he finished his stretch and collapsed upon the cushion again. "Just tell me when it's over."

"Come here."

Jin rolled his head on the arm of the chair to look at Jackson, his gaze scorching a slow path down his body and then back up again. Then the telepath slid to his feet, peeled off his shirt, and closed the distance between them.

Jackson's lips twitched as Jin licked his earlobe, clever fingers loosening his tie without delay. "Pressed for time?" Jackson asked.

"Well," Jin purred, pressing his hips against Jackson's, "I hear any minute now another man's gonna be taking up all my attention."

Jackson had never been one to give much away. His reactions, his expressions, the tone of his voice, were generally calculated to the smallest detail. Thanks to a lifetime at KGA, his own personal determination, and the demands of his Talent, even his emotions were meticulously organized and tightly secured.

But Jin had a way of loosening the straps.

Jin grunted as he fell forward over the desk. He immediately reached out to flick Jackson's pen onto the floor.

_"All_ your attention?" Jackson repeated, running his hand up Jin's naked back until his fingers slid into his dyed-black hair. He took a rough grip, pulling Jin back toward him as his other hand slid down his ass and felt between his legs.

Jin hissed in pain at the hand in his hair, but his back arched and he rocked against the palm that cupped the bulge in his ridiculously tight pants. A little purr left his lips when Jackson pulled his head to the side and nipped at the smooth skin below his ear. "You're the prophet," he replied, pushing his ass back.

"And you only live for the present," Jackson murmured against his neck, drawing down his zipper as he pressed the rigid line of his cock into the cleft of Jin's ass.

"Damn right." Jin reached back to grope at Jackson.

Jackson caught his hands and pinned them to the desk. "Stay." He let go and stripped the younger man with calm efficiency, then circled the desk and opened a bottom drawer.

With his hands braced against the desk, the telepath's long, sinewy muscles were shown to stunning effect. Stunning was the word for Jin. He had the ruthless grace of a jaguar, the impulsive humor of a problem child, and the power of a young god. And he was smirking at Jackson now, as if the sight of lube meant that he'd won yet another round of the game.

Brat. Jackson stayed on the other side of the desk for a moment, casually setting the bottle aside to remove his jacket.

"I want the shirt off."

"I know." Jackson was already shedding the dress shirt and draping it over the jacket on the chair. But that was all he removed before he walked behind Jin again, enjoying the telepath's huff of irritation at being robbed of a striptease.

Wetting his fingers, Jackson admired Jin's smooth skin and the way his muscles moved as he shifted impatiently on his feet, drinking in the tight, perfect shape of his ass. It took some degree of effort to contain his own arousal when he reached down and slid his middle finger firmly over Jin's tight hole.

"Fuck," Jin gasped, his head dropping forward.

"Let's be clear, Jin," Jackson said quietly, teasing the tempting clench of muscle. His fingertips made hard little circles, threatening to slip inside any second. "No other man is ever going to get _all_ of your attention."

"Not even the Ke-y?" Jin started it as a taunt, but his voice caught in his throat when Jackson pushed one thick finger inside.

Jackson tortured him slowly while he could. He was already hard and so hungry to fuck the beautiful smartass into oblivion he could barely keep it out of his voice. "Not even the Key," he replied. As his fingers worked, his other hand moved around to torment Jin's cock with feather-light strokes and unsatisfying little squeezes.

"Jealous..." Jin laughed wickedly beneath his breath. But then Jackson hooked his fingers, and Jin couldn't contain the arch of his back or the strangled groan that broke free. His breath was ragged and his thighs were trembling by the time Jackson dragged his fingers out.

It was always hard not to lose his head with the telepath once his dick started disappearing into that perfect ass and he heard Jin's breath become rough and irregular, like the way Jackson filled him up was too shocking for his senses to process. Some times it was particularly hard. After Jin's last few remarks, it was all Jackson could do not to throw him to the floor and claim his ass in a brutal, animalistic fury. But there were other ways to take the upper hand. He pressed his hips steadily forward, gripping Jin's arms and pulling him back as he pushed in, inch by merciless inch.

"Fuck," Jin gasped, trembling from head to toe.

Jackson let out a soft hiss of pleasure and began to work his hips slowly back and forth. He bullied the telepath with a slow, syncopated rhythm, withholding each thrust just a moment longer than expected, relishing Jin's agonized moans and the impatient jerks of his hips. He dragged it out until he was torturing himself more than Jin, and picked up the pace.

"'Jealous'?" Jackson breathed. "You think I won't take this...any time I want to take it?"

Jin moaned with lewd delight, his head falling back. "Fascist," he hissed.

That would amuse him later. Jackson let his arms go, grabbing him by the neck instead. "Mine," he retorted, and turned Jin's head around to crush his lips with a violent, possessive kiss. He felt it go through Jin's spine—the same way it went through his own.

Abruptly he shoved Jin flat against the desk and grabbed him by the hips, slamming into him the way the telepath liked. Jin's face was turned to the side, his black hair falling partially over his eyes, his face flushed and strained and his sculpted lips gasping for breath.

_Mine_ , Jackson thought as he shoved them both closer to the peak, groaning sharply as Jin's body tightened around him.

_Mine_.

Part 2:

Wind Change

#  1. First Class

The Talents were headed for Spain.

Ken sat stiffly in first class, staring out the window of the plane with his hands shoved in his pockets and his teeth clenched. Aki was with him. Kel was seated in business class. Lip and Jin were all the way back in coach.

And Sky, stupid, stupid Sky, was on some other plane somewhere with Mark as his escort.

This was Sky's fault. Goddamned _stupid_ Sky.

How could someone so careless, so childish, so _stupid_ be his brother? _How_?

"Ken."

Ken looked at Aki, slouched down in his own seat across the aisle. The Japanese boy looked like he'd just been to war. He was pale, limp and half-dead in the eyes. The only hint of emotion on his face was a faint, sullen frown.

Now his dark eyes slid to meet Ken's. "Don't touch him."

"Who?" Ken asked, feigning ignorance.

"Sky."

Ken looked away, slumping down in his chair. Of course Aki was already trying to be gallant about it. Even after being attacked by Sky, senselessly, stupidly attacked in a way that could have _really_ messed him up if Ken hadn't been there to help, Aki was approaching the situation in a calm, disciplined manner.

Fine. That was fine. But Ken didn't have to do the same.

Sky hadn't just crossed a line. He'd launched a missile.

Sky had hurt _Aki._

Ken wasn't exactly sure what happened back in Paris, but he didn't have to be. All he needed to know was that Sky had freaked out and let his empathic Talent rip through Aki's mind. It was unforgivable. Aki had already endured a devastating psychic attack months before, and his mind hadn't even begun to recover.

Sky _knew_ that. And now he'd gone and ripped open wounds that hadn't even begun to heal.

If Ken hadn't been there to fix it, what would have happened?

"Ken."

"It's not about you," Ken grumbled.

"Yes, it is. But he didn't mean to do this."

"I don't _care,"_ Ken hissed. And it _wasn't_ about Aki. It was about Sky and Ken. "Do you know why he was mad?"

"Yeah. He told me. He thinks you slept with Jin." As soon as the words were out, Aki closed his eyes and rubbed his brow with a weary sigh.

Ken shut his mouth firmly and looked away, out the window again. This was Jin's fault, too, for hanging around all the time when he knew it would provoke Sky. But it was Sky's fault most of all.

First of all, Ken had _not_ had sex with that sneaky, irritating Russian telepath. Second, it was none of Sky's fucking business anyway. Third, even if it was, it was wrong to drag Aki into it.

"He was out of line," Aki said. "But it's not like he has perfect control of his Talent. He didn't blast me on purpose. He just lost his grip."

"Why are you sticking up for him?"

"I'm not." Aki's frown deepened. "I just want to deal with him myself, when I can deal with him. And I don't want to worry about you seeking revenge in the meantime. I don't want you involved. All right?"

"I _am_ involved."

"I don't want that."

Ken shot Aki a glare, perhaps for the first time ever.

"Let it go for now. I'm serious. Promise me."

"No!" Ken was incredulous. As far as he knew, promises didn't mean anything. But just in case, he wasn't going to make this one.

"Okay, then don't promise me. But I'm going to be very upset if I find out you went after him over this. You get it?" Aki laid his head back tiredly, his eyes still fixed on Ken. "Very upset."

Ken rolled his eyes, slumping down farther in his seat with a scowl. "Fine," he muttered. "Then he can't come around at all."

"Good," Aki agreed. "I shouldn't say this, but I don't want him near you, either. Not for a while."

Ken's scowl was diminished by surprise. Aki didn't like to interfere in other peoples' relationships, especially what he called _family business_. This was the first time he'd ever suggested Ken should be cautious of Sky.

"Listen to me." Aki's dark eyes were very serious. "He's got no right to talk about you like that. Nobody does. It's no one's business what you do in private. Okay?"

"I..." _I didn't have sex with Jin,_ he wanted to say, but Jin was on the plane, too, and Jin was a telepath. Ken didn't want to be caught talking about him. The idiot would get too much joy out of it. "...agree."

Aki gave him a funny look, like he suspected Ken had meant to say something else, but he let it go.

"How do you feel?" Ken asked.

Aki shook his head. "I don't know," he said quietly, his features turning gloomy again. "Just tired." With a long sigh he turned back to his window, going still and silent again.

Sky. Fucking _Sky_. It was bad enough that Ken had to put up with him. But to make things harder for Aki—it was such a selfish, stupid thing to do.

And on top of that, Sky had put them all at risk with his huge psychic tantrum. The empath had made no effort to control his outburst, sending out shockwaves of stress that gave half of Paris a headache. The other Talents had been living there for years, staying under the radar to maintain their independence from the nefarious psychic organization they called KGA. But now that Sky had blown their cover, they had to pack up and leave.

What a disaster.

It was strange how quickly standards could change. Until just six months ago, Ken had been caged like an animal in an underground brothel where he was tortured so badly only his Talent kept him alive. Now, the outside world wasn't perfect, but it had things like beds, showers, clothes, pizza, and people who weren't paying to gouge his eyes out. How could he complain?

And yet things did upset him. Like when Sky showed up in Paris two months after Ken had joined the Talents there. Sky, who he hadn't seen since he was, what, three years old? Four? Sky, who had known for years where Ken was, but had been too doped up to track him down until Ken just so happened to have made his own way to some place better. And he expected Ken to be thrilled about it. Expected Ken to see him as family.

Obviously this was not the worst thing Ken had ever encountered. Obviously being pestered for attention in Paris was better than being raped and mutilated in a dungeon. But somehow thinking _at least it's not the dungeon_ didn't magically make Sky easier to deal with. Sometimes a pain in the ass was a pain in the ass. It wasn't all relative.

Besides, life would never be simple. Ken was a Talent, living with a bunch of other Talents, who had a bunch of different abilities, which, confusingly, they also referred to as Talents. On top of that they often described these Talents as being rooted in the general quality of "Talent." As in: _We are Talents, so we need to research Talent, so we can teach ourselves how to manage our Talents._

Not simple.

Ken's Talent was why he was alive despite having been killed. Talents could do extraordinary things, often without understanding how or even what they were doing. When Ken escaped, for example, he hiked and hitched his way from Romania to France by following his own unexplainable feeling that he needed to go that way. He followed it all the way to the doorstep of a house in Paris, where several Talents immediately took him in.

At first the Talents seemed normal. Most of them were old friends, and some of them were coupled up—Mark and Dylan, Luke and Aki. They were affectionate, always laughing. But it turned out they had problems, too. Apparently, a lot of Talents were what Lip called "unstable."

Right after Ken arrived, Luke's twin brother David—who had never seemed the slightest bit depressed—suddenly died, apparently by choice. After that, all the cheerful people turned dark and gloomy, and some seemed to no longer like each other. Ken, still fresh out of captivity at that point, was fascinated by how quickly it all changed.

And then it got even worse. Lip said Jen lost her mind because she had too many psychic abilities that were too powerful to deal with. Ken did not quite understand how that led to her turning on her old friends Lip, Mark and Kel, psychically mauling Aki, and destroying Luke's mind so completely that he couldn't live.

The point was, bad things didn't _only_ happen in dungeons.

Feeling restless, Ken stood up and walked out of first class to the business section where Kel was seated. The tall, dark-skinned Senegalese man looked up when Ken approached, stared at him for a moment in his usual unrevealing way, and then inclined his head toward the empty seat between himself and the window.

Ken took it. "Aki says I can't do anything to Sky."

Kel raised an eyebrow slightly, studying him. He gave no reply. Maybe he was surprised Ken was initiating conversation. That was fair. Ken usually didn't, except for sometimes, like now, and with some people, like Kel.

But Ken wasn't sure what he expected the other man to say. He crossed his arms and slouched back in the seat just like he had in first class, glaring at the back of the seat in front of him.

"Things could get ugly soon," Kel said at last.

"Things are ugly."

"Not as ugly as they can get."

That piqued Ken's curiosity. "What's uglier?"

"You know KGA's been looking for Jin ever since he defected. The second he found us in Paris, he dragged us into it. Now if they find him, they'll find us. Technically that means we're on the run, too."

Ken lifted his head from the seat, considering this. He liked how Kel told him stuff. Nobody else ever bothered. Mark and Lip had some dumb idea about keeping him away from their weird underworld for as long as they could. He didn't see the point. He'd been imprisoned underground for most of his life, and he was a Talent; it wasn't like he was ever going to have a normal adolescence.

"Why can't we be on the run by ourselves?" Ken asked. "Why not just get rid of Jin and let him deal with it on his own?"

"Thought you liked Jin."

"I don't _like_ _Jin_."

The amusement in Kel's eyes was so subtle Ken might have imagined it. "Well," Kel said. "We've been hiding from KGA for a long time. Fortunately, they haven't been aware of us. But we were never going to avoid this problem forever. Now Jin's boss and teammates are preparing to break away from KGA, too. They'll be making contact. And they could be valuable to us. A lot of intel, a lot of power."

"What's intel?"

"Intelligence. Valuable information. Jin's boss Jackson Gadamer knows more about KGA than we ever could, and probably more about Talent. And they could be useful in other ways. We don't have much psychic Talent around here, except for Sky."

Ken scoffed reflexively.

"And he's not reliable. But Jin's a telepath. Jackson's a precognitive. He's got an empath and a telekinetic. That's a lot of psychic power."

Ken didn't like the sound of that. "What if they're all assholes?"

"They probably are. But we don't get to pick our allies in a fight like this."

Well, this sucked. Jin was annoying enough on his own. But more like him? All of them stronger and more experienced with their Talents than Ken?

Dammit. He had to start figuring this stuff out. He had no desire to be outmatched by Jin's people. At least he knew he had something to work with.

In the past couple of months, he'd started to focus more on the whole Talent thing. Before, he hadn't had much use for introspection. Ken had never thought about, for example, his knack for going unnoticed when he wanted to.

But then Jin showed up, eyeing him like a hungry wolf, prodding him with questions like _What's your Talent?_ and _How did you get those shields so strong_? And that had made him think about things like the weird wall around his own mind. Because once Jin pointed it out, Ken _could_ feel it. And he could feel it getting stronger.

There was that confrontation in the woods the week before, when Jin had mistaken him for a KGA agent and sent some kind of psychic blast his way. He could tell by the disbelief in the telepath's eyes that it should have done more damage. Ken did feel it, of course, like a baseball thunking against his shields, but all it did was startle him so badly he jerked on his motorcycle and wiped out. Getting shot in the stomach shortly after that was much more annoying.

After that, he'd pondered a few things. First, he healed much faster than he remembered from the last time he'd been injured. Second, he needed to learn to attack with _his_ mind like that. Third, Jin wouldn't be so obsessed with his Talent if Jin didn't think it was something big.

What _was_ it, though? Everyone else was so easy to define. Sky was an empath, manipulating emotion and sensation. Jin was a telepath, controlling thought and memory. Aki was...well, he once had been...well, surely he still had that physical Talent in there, the godlike speed and strength and stamina. Just like Mark. And there were Lip and Kel, whose physical Talents were overshadowed by their hyper-intelligence and freakishly accurate predictions.

They all had something. What did Ken have? _Something_. Something beyond his ability to heal and come back from the dead. Something psychic. Something that made Jin's eyes gleam.

He turned back to Kel with a frown. "You think I _like_ Jin?"

Kel didn't look up from his tablet. "I think everyone likes Jin."

"I don't like anyone."

"I know," Kel said simply. But the corner of his mouth definitely twitched.

Ken got up and headed back toward first class.

"Aki's right," Kel said as Ken moved past him. "Ceasefire. For now."

Rolling his eyes, Ken continued on his way.

#  2. Economy

Lip looked up into the eyes of the pretty brunette flight attendant. "Coffee, please. Thank you."

"Right away," she replied, smiling at him for as long as she could before turning away.

Jin yawned. "Gross."

The telepath was sitting tight at Lip's right, flipping through the in-flight shopping catalog he'd grabbed from the seat back. His legs, like Lip's, were too long for flying coach, and Lip wondered how long it would take for him to start whining about it.

"I see you sat us near the bathrooms," Jin remarked without looking up from the page of incredibly tacky house decorations. A phone shaped like a high-heeled shoe. A life-sized sculpture of Babe Ruth holding a tray for wine bottles.

Lip looked at him again. "Yeah?"

"You're gonna have to do most of the work. I get bored trying to use my dick in confined spaces."

It wasn't that funny, but Lip couldn't help laughing. The telepath had good timing, or good delivery, or something.

"At least we can decorate the new pad on the way there." Jin held up the catalog and tapped an enormous indoor fountain shaped like a medieval castle, complete with a fire-breathing dragon. "This could go in our room."

"Our room?"

Jin arched his brows innocently. "Aren't we on the buddy system?"

The flight attendant returned with Lip's coffee. Jin promptly took it. Lip abashedly asked for another, apologizing for the trouble. The woman was decidedly unbothered, touching his arm to reassure him she'd be back right away.

"I could have done that." Jin said.

"Done what?"

"Honeyed up the stewardess."

"Well, you didn't."

"Wanna see who can get her into the restroom first?"

"No, Jin." Lip sighed mildly. "I don't want you to overexert yourself."

Jin snorted and tossed the magazine into the lap of the businessman next to him. When the man jumped and scowled at him, Jin waved a hand. "Keep it."

"Would you behave yourself, please?" Lip said warily.

"I'd be calmer in first class."

That earned a wry look. God only knew what would happen if Jin joined Aki and Ken up there.

Seriously. God only knew. Lip's hypercognitive Talent was pretty sharp when it came to measuring probable outcomes, but both Ken and Jin were hard to predict. Each was too full of surprises.

At the moment, with Aki in an uneasy state— _again_ , poor fucking kid—and Ken madder than a damn gorilla, no way in hell was he letting Jin saunter up there to poke around.

"Come on," Jin complained. "I'm a first class person. Look at this." He jostled his knees against the seat in front of him, prompting the owner to shoot a dirty look over her shoulder. Jin didn't care. "Cramps my style. At least lemme trade with Kel."

"Kel's working. He needs the space." Lip turned to accept his coffee from the flight attendant, thanking her profusely. She beamed and complimented his shirt before moving back up the aisle.

"You stole that shirt from Sky," Jin snorted.

Lip stopped with his cup halfway to his mouth and fixed Jin with an irritated look. "It's Marc Jacobs."

Sky and Lip did _not_ favor the same designers. Sky was Dolce & Gabbana, Gucci, Versace. Lip was Marc Jacobs, Ralph Lauren, Thom Browne. Sky was the sleek, sexy hustler, and Lip was the scholar with abs of steel. They couldn't be more distinct.

"He has it in purple," Jin insisted. "It's what all the club guys are wearing now, you didn't know?"

"That—" Lip cut himself off, realizing he was squabbling with the telepath. Huh. How long had it been since he'd squabbled? Somehow it felt like a breath of fresh air.

"I _am_ a breath of fresh air," Jin agreed, reading his mind.

"Uh-huh."

"So, who am I shacking up with?"

Lip almost didn't want to tell him. The telepath was going to take far too much joy in the fact that he was going to be living with Aki and Ken while Sky was kept somewhere far away.

Sky claimed to loathe Jin—despite the fact that he had sex with him—and desperately wanted to keep him and Ken apart. Jin, meanwhile, had taken a keen interest in Ken. And Ken, for his part, did not take well to Sky's attempts to be involved in his life.

The weird triangle that was forming between the telepath and the estranged brothers was half the reason they were in this mess. The other half, of course, was that Sky just couldn't handle his shit.

Of course, Lip didn't _have_ to tell Jin about the living arrangements. Jin was a telepath. And sure enough, he was already laughing uncontrollably.

"God, shut up," Lip sighed, glancing around at the other passengers.

"I knew you were on my side," Jin exclaimed.

"No." Lip turned as much as the cramped seat allowed, raising a stern finger to Jin. "I am _not_ on your side."

"You want me and Ken to be buddies."

"I want minimal trouble, mate. That's all I ever fuckin' want."

Jin punctuated a long, drawn-out scoff with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "Admit it. You hate Sky as much as I do."

"I do _not_ ," Lip said. Honestly, he didn't. Sure, the psychotic brat made everything he touched about forty percent more difficult than it had to be, on average—more like six hundred percent where Ken was concerned—but Lip didn't _hate_ him. He didn't wish _ill_ upon him. Quite the opposite. He just didn't have the spare time or energy to manage the empath's frustrating behavior. He wasn't a middle school teacher.

"Then why'd you put me in the house with Ken? Never mind, I don't want you to change your mind. God knows I can't room with Fuck-up Barbie."

Lip frowned at him. "Be nice."

"I am nice! I'm just _saying._ "

Lip sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. Having successfully driven him to exasperation, Jin cheerfully took his catalog back from the businessman.

It felt like a long flight.

#  3. Good Talk, Mark

Mark focused on the highway out of Seville. Sky sat beside him, staring out the window, his shimmering blond hair falling over his red, swollen eyes. One could hardly blame him for crying. As far as fuck-ups went, this ranked pretty high—even for Sky, and that was saying something.

Mark's phone buzzed, and he looked at the screen. The call was coming from Dublin.

Shit.

He hesitated for a moment before touching the screen to answer.

After a pause, Dylan's voice came through. "H'lo?"

Mark swallowed hard, somehow unable to decide on a simple greeting. It had been over a month since the Dylan took off in a cloud of grief. Mark still didn't know what he'd meant by doing it.

Dylan sighed heavily. "Don't tell me I'm gettin' the silent treatment."

That quick, lilting voice and strangely offbeat Irish accent hit Mark like a brick in the throat.

"Hey," he said stupidly.

_"Hey._ What's goin' on?"

"Well..."

"I got a funny feelin'. Somethin' the matter with Aki?"

Of course. Dylan wasn't a psychic, but they were all prone to "funny feelings," especially at times like this, when they sensed one of their own in danger.

Dylan paused barely long enough to take a breath before continuing impatiently. " _Fuck's sake_ , Mark, cat got your tongue? Put Lip on."

"Aki's okay. I think."

"He's _okay_ , you _think_?" Dylan's voice sharpened. "The fuck happened to 'im?"

"Sky lost control." From the corner of his eye Mark saw Sky, shrivel, slumping down in the passenger's seat and burying his face in one hand. "They had an argument about Ken. Sky lost his temper, his Talent exploded all over the city, and Aki got the brunt of it."

Dylan exhaled. "Jesus fuckin' Christ..."

"Ken found Aki knocked out on the floor in a lot of pain." Mark ignored Sky's soft sob. "Fixed him up somehow. I don't know. He seems okay. He's walking around. Strung out, but on his feet. They're on a plane now, to Spain. I'm with Sky now, driving."

Dylan swore again, and it sounded like he'd lowered the phone from his face. After a long pause he spoke clearly again. "Well, tell Lip to call me if anything changes."

Mark's fist clenched on the steering wheel, and it bent in his palm. Shit. " _Lip_?" he repeated flatly, unclenching his hand before he could do any more damage. "Are we not talking anymore?"

"I don't give a shit who it is, long as they know what the fuck's goin' on. Jesus, look, I just..." Dylan muttered another curse to himself before he continued. "Make sure Aki's okay."

"You could come see for yourself." Hearing the bitterness in his own tone, Mark wanted to slap himself.

"Oh." Dylan's reply was sharp and angry. " _Could I_ , now?"

"Dylan..." Mark groaned, pulling up to a junction with a red light. Goddammit. He wasn't good at this. Losing Jen, losing Dylan, losing...he just wasn't good at losing things. But neither was Dylan, and lately he'd lost a lot. It was shitty to shame him for running away. Sometimes people needed to run away. Mark had been there. Plenty of times.

Silence hung on the line. Mark rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Dylan. I'll tell Lip. And I'll tell Aki you called. I think he'll be..." _Glad_ would be a stretch. "I don't know."

"Yeah," Dylan muttered. "Well, I hope he's okay. I hope Sky's okay, too."

Of course Dylan would be the first to voice concern for Sky. Kindhearted son of a bitch never gave up on anyone. Suddenly Mark missed him so bad his body ached. "Yeah. I hope so, too."

"Bye, then."

The line went dead before Mark could reply. He tossed the phone aside with a frustrated sigh.

Beside him, Sky spoke up in a small, tearful voice. "Do I have to go away?"

"I don't know, Sky," Mark said tersely. " _Do_ you?"

Sky slumped down farther in his chair.

Jesus Christ. He wished Kel had taken Sky duty. "Stop sulking," he muttered.

"I don't know what to do."

"Neither do I." Seriously. He didn't. Sky seemed completely determined to destroy every chance he had to get along with people and do things right.

Mark sighed again. Shit.

Who was he to judge?

Back in the prequel to all this fear and despair, when he'd lived and worked alongside Lip and Kel and Jen and Dylan, there'd been plenty of drama—and Mark and Jen had been right at the center, keeping it all at a constant boil. Sometimes he looked back on the whole mess and couldn't decipher what had even happened, how his romance with Jen could have been so chaotic and how they had kept up with it.

But Mark was susceptible to chaos. There was something missing inside him—an ability to give a shit whether his life was fucked up or not, a sense that there was any meaning in existence, a desire to keep his hands on the wheel. He could _do_ it, yeah, if he had to, for other people. But there was always the overlying sense that nothing really mattered anyway.

It was Dylan who changed it. He was still with Jen when Dylan came along like an electric shock, all laughter and kindness, all intensity. Dylan cared about _everything._ And it was contagious. It jolted Mark right out of his head every time they spoke. Every time. It was like there had been a wall separating people like Mark and Jen from the real world, and Dylan was the first one who figured out how to tunnel underneath and drag Mark over.

Mark started spending more and more time by that wall, looking over it, talking through it, visiting the other side.

But Jen wouldn't budge.

She didn't unravel overnight. By the time it got really bad, the only surprise was that Mark didn't feel like he was going down with her. That he held onto the wall, close to Dylan and Lip and Kel, instead of trailing her into the badlands of nihilism.

God, but it hurt.

Fuck, he loved her.

Even after she disappeared and he found asylum in Dylan's embrace, Mark's insides burned at the thought of her, and the memory of the white-hot intensity they had held themselves in. And not a day passed when he didn't entertain the thought of following her. He wouldn't do it, couldn't leave Dylan, never. But he thought about it. Dreamed about it.

_Fuck,_ he missed her. He missed her. _Still._

After all she'd done, he still missed her.

God, he was such a piece of _shit._

Mark opened his hands on the steering wheel, careful not to forget his strength again. He glanced over at Sky.

It wasn't much fun seeing himself in someone so profoundly frustrating, but that was karma, he guessed. Anyway, who _was_ he to judge? The fact was he could make a lot of comparisons here, as uncomfortable as it was.

Sky's sins were hard to stomach. The blond had left Ken in the slums of the third world to be tortured, raped, mutilated and murdered, while on the other side of the Asian continent he was kept in a sick sort of luxury as a crime lord's concubine. Like the others, Mark wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt—he'd been an exploited kid, too—but it was hard to look past the fact that Sky showed up so fast once he realized Ken had found a better place.

Mark could look down on Sky for his weakness, his inertia, for not having been a hero. But who was he kidding? Mark loved _Jen_.

Luke _died_ from what she did to him. Aki was still a battered shell of who he'd been before she attacked him. Dylan had sentenced himself to some solitary funeral march, the light in his eyes snuffed out.

And Mark still missed her.

And now Sky was staring at him, a strange expression in his tear-swollen eyes.

Of course. The empath was picking up on his shame and self-loathing.

Well, great. Let him.

Mark sighed yet again. "Look..."

"I don't want to keep fucking up," Sky said.

"No?" Mark asked. "What were you thinking in the first place, storming into that house looking for Ken? Jesus, how many times have we told you to leave the kid alone?"

Sky's face crumpled in frustration and he closed his eyes, throwing his head back against the seat.

Christ, Mark was unqualified for this. What would Lip do? He started again, trying to take a problem-solving perspective. "Sky, what are we missing? Why do we keep going in circles?"

"I'm not trying to."

"You keep doing the same thing, and getting the same result. _Worse_ results. Can't you at least try something different?"

"Like what?" Sky asked helplessly.

"Well, you could try spending some time with Ken without telling him what to do." Mark cringed inwardly once he said it, realizing that probably wasn't going to be possible for a while, if ever. Hurting Aki could put Sky on Ken's bad side for good. But Mark wasn't going to bring that up now.

"Letting him get close to Jin is a mistake."

Here it was. Back on the merry-go-round. Mark spoke as bluntly as he could. "I think you're jealous."

"You're wrong!" Sky snapped, turning back with his blue-gray eyes blazing. "Nobody knows Jin like I do. I told you, I knew him in Osaka!"

"And you fucked him in Paris," Mark shot back.

The insult made Sky's features flinch, and he faltered for a moment. "I fucked him," he admitted without any spirit. "That doesn't mean he's not dangerous."

Now Mark felt bad. He thumbed the dent in the steering wheel and softened his tone. "All right. But you've got to explain it. We know Jin can be an asshole. What makes him a threat to _Ken_? Help me understand."

Sky sent an uncertain look Mark's way, and he was quiet for a moment before he spoke. "It was two or three years ago. He was with his team, and his boss, Jackson Gadamer. They were staying in a suite at one of Iida's hotels while they were doing some work for him. Iida was..." Sky paused, searching for the right words, looking unsure. "I used to live with Takuya Iida's brother, Tetsuo. Then Tetsuo died and I went to Takuya. I was, you know. For sex. Sometimes I was like an executioner; he'd send me out like a gift but I'd poison them or shoot them. But I was mostly for sex."

"I know." Remembering this, Mark felt even more contrite for his impatience. It was all too easy to look at Sky's life in contrast to Ken's, and that was grossly unfair, if not cruelly so. Sky had been exploited, too, and carried no shortage of trauma. Mark was beginning to wonder if they were really giving him the compassion he deserved, and so badly needed.

"Iida had paid KGA to do something for him," Sky went on, "and Jackson's team was the one they sent. They were probably wiping out a rival clan or something. I don't know. That's what KGA does. They send out their teams to spy or kill or whatever."

"Yeah."

"Iida really liked Jackson's work," Sky said, staring gloomily through the windshields. "So he sent me to the hotel to thank him. They were all there. Jackson was in his office. Jin was in the main part of the suite with the other two, the empath and the telekinetic. It was the first time I'd met other Talents—before that I thought maybe I was the only one. But they were _all_ Talents. And Jin and the empath were drunk and they were torturing some guy."

"Some guy?" Mark interrupted.

"He had tattoos." Sky shrugged. "Yakuza. I think they were practicing on him. They were talking about stigmata, saying if it was real then a psychic should be able to make it happen to someone. Make the pain turn physical. The empath was trying. Jin was laughing. I could feel all of it—how scared he was, how much it hurt, and how much fun they were having. It was disgusting."

Mark opened his mouth but then closed it again, grimacing faintly. There wasn't much to say to that. It didn't exactly shock Mark that Jin had an ugly side. One killer knew another. But as far as character assassinations went, a claim of torture was generally hard to dismiss. Generally.

"You've never met Jackson Gadamer, huh?" Sky asked.

"Not yet."

"Well, he's evil. You'd know it if you met him."

"We probably will meet him."

"It's like he's not even a person. He hasn't got any feelings. Like a robot. Like a reptile" Sky was getting emotional again, his voice taking on that unfortunate tone of desperation. "They don't do anything but hurt people. That's all they do _._ "

"Did they do something to you?" Mark asked quietly.

Sky rubbed his eyes in silence before he muttered, "No."

"So what happened next?"

"Jin left them and took me to Jackson's room. He didn't say anything, just stared at me and smiled. I was scared. I didn't know I'd be able to recognize other Talents, but I could. I knew he was reading my mind. I knew what the empath was doing. And I could tell he knew something about me."

"He didn't say anything?"

"He asked my name. Like he was being friendly. Pretending to be sweet. You know how he is." Sky's lips curled. "He took me to Jackson, pushed me into the office and closed the door behind me. Jackson was at his desk. He looked at me and asked me some questions about my life. Then he told me I could go." Sky went silent, brooding.

"That was it?"

"I stayed with Jin," Sky muttered. "For the night."

Mark thought about the story for a while. It wasn't a flattering portrait of the telepath, but did it really matter now?

Maybe he was jaded, but the fact that Jin had done dirty work for KGA wasn't shocking. Mark had killed plenty of people for money. Not civilians, but still. Maybe the kid they were torturing wasn't a civilian, either. Maybe it wasn't reasonable to expect better of Jin. It wasn't like Klaus Gadamer Academy set out to breed compassionate graduates.

And it wasn't like Mark _liked_ torture, but... well, sometimes it happened.

All right, he was probably jaded. Still, he was confident Lip and Kel would agree: Sky's concerns were certainly worth noting, but they were simply weren't enough for an indictment.

"I'm not trying to take away from all that," Mark said cautiously, "but haven't you also killed a lot of people?"

"Jesus Christ," Sky snapped with sudden ferociousness. "What would I have to tell you to convince you?"

"I believe what you just told me, man. It's just that we've all done some pretty bad things under orders, haven't we? You and me included. Sky, come _on_..." Mark groaned as the blond's eyes filled with tears again.

"They want something from him," Sky insisted, his voice breaking. "They want to use him. Why won't you even think about it? Has he done something to everyone?"

"Has who done something?"

"Jin. With his Talent, to make you trust him."

"No," Mark said sternly. "That's ridiculous."

"It's _not_ ridiculous!" Sky shouted. "It's not. He's a fucking telepath—that's what he does! Why is he so obsessed with Ken? Why? Jackson _ordered_ him to come here. He's on an assignment!"

"You really think that?" Mark demanded. "You think he's strong enough to get through all of our shields— _except_ for yours, for some reason, and _except_ for Ken's—and make us incapable of suspicion? Be reasonable, Sky. We _are_ thinking about it. Nobody's putting lives in his hands, okay? But he came to us with KGA on his heels, and we have to fight them, too. What choice do we have but to keep him close?"

"You underestimate him," Sky accused.

"You're acting on emotion," Mark countered. "You want us to make it so that Jin and Ken never interact. But we don't control Jin, and we don't control Ken. And Ken has a right to do things his own way, even if it goes against all advice. It's our job to be here for him. Right now you're the only one pushing him away."

"You underestimate him," Sky repeated through clenched teeth. "All of them. You don't know what empaths and telepaths can do."

"I know what they can do," Mark said darkly.

"But they're not like Jen. They have control. You don't even _realize_ what they're doing, until..."

"Fine," Mark said. "Let's say you're right. Let's say Jin's the devil. So what more would we do? The kid has a fucking security detail. Lip, Aki and Kel are watching like hawks. And he listens to them when they want to give him advice, because they do it respectfully."

"I fucking respect him!"

"You think he'd agree with that?" Mark couldn't keep the disdain from creeping into his voice. "Do you even think about how he sees things? The kid begged you for help for years. And he _needed_ it. And I'm not saying you're to blame. I know you had your own situation to deal with. But all he knows is you didn't show up until it was over. So why should he care what you think? What have you done to deserve that?"

As expected, Sky fell silent for a long moment. "I can't change what I did," he mumbled at last.

"So change what you're _doing_."

"How?"

"Leave it alone. And Jin might get to be around him. You can't control that."

"I could kill him," Sky said bitterly.

All right, then. There it was.

Mark let it hang in the air for a while, and then he slowed down and pulled over by the side of the empty highway. Sky crossed his arms, staring straight ahead.

"That's not how we do things." Mark said at last. "You know, Talents go crazy sometimes. Are you aware of that?"

Sky's lips trembled. "I'm not crazy," he whispered.

"They feel too much, and they lose perspective. And when Talents lose perspective, and make bad decisions, people get hurt."

Sky said nothing, but he was crying again.

"I think you do need to get away for a while," Mark said quietly, trying his hardest not to sound unkind.

Sky closed his eyes, and covered a sob with his hand.

Mark looked down at the dented steering wheel again, wishing it didn't feel like he was kicking a puppy. Finally he reached over and gently smoothed Sky's hair. "Come here," he murmured, leaning over the center console and pulling the kid into his arms. "Hey. C'mere."

Sky sobbed into his shoulder, taking weak handfuls of his shirt like he was afraid to do anything more.

Mark sighed inwardly, thinking about what to do. It wasn't like he was going to send the kid off on his own. Letting unstable psychics wander off in despair hadn't worked out very well in the past.

Then he had an idea: ARSI.

There was room for Sky at ARSI. He could do some training, study with tutors, help with research. It would give him something productive to do, maybe build up his confidence a little.

The blond was still crying into his shoulder.

"I wanna help," Mark murmured, stroking his hair. "Okay? I'm trying to be your friend."

"S-sending me away?"

"No. I want you at ARSI. With me, and Kel and Lip."

Sky said nothing, only continued to sob.

Great. First Dylan, now Sky—two failures in a span of fifteen minutes.

When Sky's tears finally died down in volume, he pulled back, rubbed his eyes, and turned his face away.

Just when Mark was wondering if he'd broken Sky's mangled heart and turned him against them all for good, the empath spoke up. His voice was still thick with tears, but now he sounded humble, and cautiously curious. "What would I do at ARSI?"

Mark mustered a smile.

#  4. Checking Traps

As far as KGA knew, Jackson Gadamer and his team were still hunting for their fugitive teammate, Jin. Jackson Gadamer was happy to report that the mission was going swimmingly. The special group he had assembled for the supposed purpose of tracking down the rogue telepath was completely certain that their target had absconded to Algeria, and they were all hot on the trail.

"Thank you, Rinzen." Jackson reached for the coffee that floated toward him.

"Where's mine?" Giovanni complained.

"In the coffee pot," Rin replied, his eyes glued to the cutting board in front of him, where slices of tomatoes were being diced by a chef's knife that seemed to be held by an invisible hand. The Tibetan telekinetic was only sixteen, but he was serious about honing his prodigious Talent. Left to his own devices, he'd train all day. Jackson appreciated that kind of ambition.

"Why do you need a knife?" Giovanni asked.

The slicing of the blade against the wooden board continued. "Because it makes a clean cut."

"Why can't _you_ make a clean cut?" A second later Giovanni's head jerked forward, as though it had been slapped from behind.

"Stop it," Jackson said calmly, before Giovanni's growl could segue to violence.

"I didn't do anything," Giovanni protested, scowling at Rin.

"Good." Jackson took a drink of coffee.

The diced tomatoes went flying into the skillet.

"You'll burn it," Giovanni warned.

"Then you can make your own." Spinach was ripping itself to pieces before Rin's eyes. It rained into the skillet, and Rin started on the mushrooms.

Jackson half-listened to their petulant squabbling, thinking of how dull the coming months were going to be without Jin to balance out the group. "Giovanni," he said, not looking up from his tablet. "Be quiet, eat your breakfast, and then go to my office."

The Italian sighed, but settled down. Jackson's office, after all, was serious business.

"When do we see Jin?" Rin asked, eyes fixed on the skillet sizzling beyond the table.

"This week," Jackson replied.

The Talents looked at him in surprise. Jackson merely drank his coffee and continued scanning the stock reports. All his plans were in good shape for the time being, though they grew more complicated by the day.

The eggs were perfect.

Giovanni finished his breakfast and pushed his chair back. Jackson watched him leave the room, giving him a few minutes to get settled before he himself rose from the table. He thanked Rin for breakfast and headed for his office.

The Italian settled into one of the expensively upholstered chairs facing Jackson's desk, relaxed, waiting for whatever Jackson had to say.

Jackson didn't bother sitting down in his chair. Instead he leaned back against the desk. "I'm sending you to make contact with Jin."

"Where?" Unlike Jin, the Italian wasn't one for constant wisecracks. That was fine. One Jin was more than enough.

"Spain. Seville. I want you to check in on him and see if your work has taken effect."

The empath tilted his head. "He's found the Key?"

"You'll find out. You should be able to tell if the fixation has taken hold, and if so, whether the reflex you planted has worked as intended."

"Hm." Giovanni paused. "All right. Track him down, sneak in, and see if he's gone soft."

Jackson fixed him with a cool look, less than amused by that wording. "You do recall the reasoning behind this arrangement, don't you?"

_"Sì_ _,_ " Giovanni replied simply. "Leave it to me."

"Good. Head to Seville tomorrow night."

Giovanni stood up. "So, what if the seed hasn't sprouted? Just sneak off?"

"That's right."

The Italian shrugged. "Okay."

Jackson watched him leave, then sighed and closed his eyes.

There was more to Giovanni's assignment than a simple rendezvous with Jin. And though Jackson already knew how the evening would play out, the anticipation was much more loaded than usual.

It was all going according to plan.

According to prophecy.

#  5. Driving Lessons with Ken

"Mozart," Jin declared, stopping in the hallway and turning to face the door behind which Symphony 25 was blasting through some pretty decent speakers. Well, well. Someone was expanding his cultural landscape. Jin cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, "I _love_ Mozart!"

The music stopped.

Jin lowered his hands, listening. He pictured Ken standing with a hand on the volume, trying to burn a hole through the door with his eyes. Hearing nothing more from within the dragon's lair, he turned and swaggered down the hall toward the kitchen, where he nearly collided with Aki in the doorway.

"Hey, Rambo," Jin said. "How's the noggin?"

Aki shouldered past him like he hadn't heard anything and headed across the small living room toward the balcony of their bungalow.

Jin automatically turned to follow him. "Hey, you want some pizza or something?"

To his surprise, the Japanese boy suddenly stopped and turned around. Fixing Jin with penetrating look, he reached for the handle of the sliding door. "I need to talk to you."

"Me?" Jin put a hand to his chest, blinking innocently.

Aki pulled the door open and stood aside, waiting.

Well, all right. Aki wasn't the most cheerful company, what with the whole raw-smoking-remains-of-a-mind thing going on, but he had his moments. Like the time he decided to leave Japan for a guy, but stopped on the way out to take down his family's criminal empire in a bloody rampage. That was objectively badass, whether Aki admitted it or not.

Passing the yakuza drifter with a stately nod, Jin spun and plopped into one of the deck chairs overlooking the decidedly unremarkable suburban landscape.

Aki didn't sit, but leaned back against the railing in front of Jin and crossed his arms. He was a fine-looking specimen, with all those long, lethal muscles and that classical face. Not to mention the weird mercenary-monk vibe he had going on. If it weren't for his busted brain and the way it creaked and groaned like a sick beast every time Jin caught a glimpse of it, he'd like to think they would have fucked by now.

"Can you help me?"

Jin raised his eyebrows, reaching up to hug the back of the chair. "What kinda help?"

Aki looked coldly at him for a moment, refusing to state the obvious. Ken had probably learned that look from him.

"Help you with...your _head_ ," Jin guessed.

Aki nodded.

"Surprised you want anyone in there."

"I don't."

"Well, I'd maybe have to feel around."

"I know."

"Hm."

It was weird that Aki would invite a suspicious character like himself to prod his open wound of a head, but then again, the guy didn't have a lot of options. It wasn't like these Talents were overflowing with psychic resources to consult with, and if there was ever any possibility of Aki asking Sky for help before, it was definitely gone now.

That made Jin a hot commodity, didn't it? There was a happy thought. Well, no skin off his back. He hadn't worked on anyone's shields in a while, and he could use the practice. But even better, this was a chance to get in and investigate the double-miracle Ken had performed in bringing Aki back from the brink of insanity and concealing him from Giovanni.

Aki glared back at him, taking his silence the wrong way. "I'm not in the mood for you to be an asshole."

"I'm not in an asshole mood," Jin said simply. Letting go of the seat back, he leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, squinting a little against the setting sun. "Yeah, I can help you."

"How?"

"Get in there, see what the damage is. Clear out some dead trees, make it easier to heal."

Aki narrowed his eyes slightly and pursed his lips, pausing for a long moment before he spoke. "You could do that?"

"Sure. No promises, but I can try. And I'm pretty good." He paused and then grinned. "I mean—I'm the best."

The gangster prince lifted his chin and looked down at Jin with a frown. Such a nice tilt to his lips—so pert and haughty.

Jin cocked his head, amused. "Ever done any modeling?"

Aki blinked, his brow furrowing slightly.

"That's what I can do for you," Jin said. "Think about it. But hey, and while we're at it, here's some advice. If you wanna get better you should probably stop monking out."

Now Aki grimaced with confusion. "Monking out?"

"You know what I mean. Bowl of rice, bowl of soup, hour of sleep, repeat."

With the barely controlled scowl of a man who loathed advice from strangers, Aki replied, "I'm not hungry."

Jin shrugged. "Neither was Luke."

Aki stiffened visibly. But Jin was only making a fair point. He knew Aki had struggled and failed to get Luke to eat in his final weeks. Perhaps the angsty warrior didn't know just how important food and rest were for damaged and exhausted psychics.

For all the times it was clear that these Talents knew more than they let on, there were just as many ways in which they seemed clueless. Which made sense, he guessed, considering they'd been on their own where Talent was concerned. And who knew much about rehabilitating traumatized Talents, really, besides Jackson Gadamer?

"Look, trust me," Jin said. "This is basic. You gotta feed your Talent if you want it to do the kind of work you need it to do. You should be eating more than you've ever eaten in your life." Jin stood up with a lazy stretch. "I'll get food. Eat some. And if you can't sleep, I can help with that."

"Why?" Aki asked sharply.

Jin stopped at the door to give him an odd look. "Why, what?"

"Why would you go out of your way to help?"

"You just asked for it, dum-dum. You think I have anything better to do?" With a dismissive snort, Jin slipped back inside.

Aki had asked him for help. This was great. Ken wouldn't be able to resist him now. He killed a few minutes in the kitchen, inspecting the contents of the fridge that had been hastily stocked by the help just before their arrival, until he heard Aki disappear into his room at the end of the hall.

There was no Mozart coming from Ken's room this time. Jin rapped on the door.

"Hey, Damien!" he called. "I need your help with something!" He waited patiently and then rapped again. "Seriously!"

The door opened.

Ken was a few inches shorter than he was, but the way he glared upward without lifting his chin was strangely intimidating. It made his mismatched green eyes look bigger, and sharper.

"Hey," Jin asked. "How come your eyes are such different colors?"

"What do you want?"

"I need you to help me get food for Aki. I told him I would, but I don't know what he likes. He needs to eat."

Ken glowered with that stony face for a few moments—and if he had, in fact, learned from watching Aki, Jin would say the student had surpassed the teacher. When he finally spoke, his voice dripped with complete disdain for Jin's pretense. "You're worried about him _eating_."

"Uh-huh."

The dark green eye was scarier than the light green eye, like the deep of a stormy ocean. Actually, no. The light green one was scarier, frosty and wicked. Well, the combination, anyway, and the way his sharp alabaster face could hold a glare...

"I'll order food." Ken said.

"Pretty sure we should go pick some up. What with our location being hush-hush."

Ken made a disgusted sound and shoved past him, stalking toward the side door leading to the driveway.

"I can drive," Jin said cheerily as he followed. "No problem."

Ken got into the driver's seat.

"Or, okay." What the hell? The kid definitely didn't know how to drive a car.

Ken frowned when Jin climbed into the passenger's side, but said nothing. He glanced down at the pedals at his feet, narrowing his eyes.

"The left one, and—"

"Shut up."

"Oof," Jin grabbed his heart like he'd been shot, and then watched, entertained, as Ken pushed in the clutch and attempted to start the car. It seemed he'd paid attention while others were driving. Still, as he moved into first gear there was a horrific grinding sound and the car stalled.

Ken's eyes moved over the steering wheel, console, and gearshift with cold, murderous scorn.

Holding back a smile, Jin tried again to help out. "Do it again. Push the clutch in all the way. That's the one on the left."

Ken shot him a look of disdain, but did as he said.

This was fun. "Push the brake in all the way, too. The middle one. Then you can turn the key. Don't move your feet."

Watching Ken follow his instructions was weirdly...good. Weirdly good.

Weird.

"Good," he said as the car started. "Now keep the clutch and the brake down, and put it in first gear. Here's where it fucks up if you do it wrong." His eyes moved over Ken's legs. It always struck him how well shaped the kid was despite his scrawniness. Lean and firm. Probably quick. Probably strong as fuck. "You gotta slowly press down on the gas and let up on the clutch at the same time till the gear kicks in."

Ken's slim thighs flexed as he moved his legs accordingly. The car rolled forward out of the driveway, swerved to the right, and rolled down the road.

"Nice!" Jin cheered. "Now watch your speed, feel what that engine's doing. You need to keep changing gears as you drive."

"When?" Ken was speeding up quite intently.

"Now. Boom!"

"When does your boss get here?" Ken asked suddenly, quickly passing the speed limit.

"A few weeks." Jin looked back over his shoulder. "That was a stop sign, actually."

"Why?"

"To make you stop, is the idea."

Ken rolled his eyes. "Why a few weeks?"

"Well, he's faking a hunt for me to buy some time on the outside, so he can get some things set up before they release the hounds."

"What are the hounds?"

"Dogs," Jin replied without skipping a beat. "Bloodhounds. It's a metaphor. They're good at finding things by scent, even people, so say you break out of jail and run off on foot, the guards set the hounds loose to sniff out your trail and catch you."

Ken said nothing, but Jin had a working theory that exchanges like this warmed him up a little. It seemed like any time Ken asked a question and got an answer, he got easier to talk to. Curiosity was his soft spot, then. They had that much in common—although Ken's knowledge gaps were more extreme than Jin's had ever been. Jesus, only six months out in the world. Jin was impressed. He was catching up fast.

"What does Aki need?" Ken asked suddenly. "To get better."

"Rest. Food. Shields."

"Shields? How?"

"Usually you'd stitch them back together. He'll have to build them from scratch in some places." Jin was distracted by the speedometer. "Hey, cool it. You're gonna get us in trouble."

Ken eased up on the gas and shot him a dirty look. "It's your fault."

"That you're speeding?"

"No. Aki. I told you not to make things worse."

"I've actually been blaming Sky, but..."

"You knew he'd freak out."

"You think I provoked him somehow?" Jin paused for effect before he asked with exaggerated delicacy, "Are you referring to the perfectly innocent night we spent together?"

Ken scoffed. The highway was clear for a moment, and he took the chance to snake back and forth for a while, testing out the steering.

"Hey, I didn't know he'd go after Aki. Cross my heart." At Ken's sidelong frown, Jin grinned and traced an X over his own chest. "Cross my heart. That means I _promise_."

It was fun explaining things to Ken. He didn't know why. It just was. In fact, earlier that day he'd been thinking about how to get the kid to a museum or something, maybe show him some dinosaur bones. Wouldn't that be a trip?

"Whatever," Ken muttered. "Can you do anything for him?"

"Sure. We already talked about it. He asked me. I gave him some advice, right before I knocked on your door."

For a moment, Ken's cool mask was ruined by surprise. Jin couldn't help grinning, especially when the kid recovered and looked at him with comical suspicious, like the world's most adorable cartoon detective.

"Fine," Ken said crisply, as though granting permission. "But if you hurt him, I'll kill you. And don't think they'll stop me, because they can't."

"All right. Deal. That's another stop sign, by the way, if you're interested. Or if not—Jesus!" Jin cried as Ken used the intersection to try a sharp, screeching turn. "You know all these lines and lights and signs actually mean shit?"

"No one told me," Ken said quite blithely, and floored it.

"Well, you're a fast learner, so...watch it!" Jin's hands shot out in alarm as they came up on a red light at a busy intersection.

Ken hauled the car around, turning so sharply this time that two wheels came off of the road.

"You little fucking monster!" Jin braced himself as the car rocked precariously, righted itself, and went fishtailing in the other direction.

Miraculously pulling off the turn, Ken burst out laughing and hit the gas again.

"Christ, that's what I get for letting you drive when you're grounded," Jin huffed, settling back in his seat. He'd never heard Ken laugh before. It almost made him forget the brat was trying to kill him. "Can we find a damn supermarket?"

"Sure," Ken said peacefully, and swerved around another corner.

Jin swore again. "If you give me a concussion..."

"Then what?"

"I won't share my ice cream with you anymore."

The green-eyed demon let slip a crooked little smile and evened out his speed. Then his face smoothed into the usual mask again.

Jin wasn't fooled. Son of a bitch.

They were getting along.

#  6. Inevitable

ARSI was set up like a university campus: a compound of buildings and dormitories interspersed with comfortable courtyards and sprawling hiking trails, and it served a similar blend of academic and practical purposes. There were the research departments where, assisted by the brilliant biochemist Dr. Layla Fowler, Lip devoted his hypercognitive Talent and his love of science to deciphering the genetic components and practical implications of Talents. There were living quarters for cadets, agents, and staff, placed within easy access of ARSI's sophisticated athletic training facilities. There was the intelligence department, led by Kel and supported by a small team of ARSI agents who flitted about the globe tracking leads on organizations and individuals of potential interest.

And there was the training department, a rapidly growing project devoted to recruiting and training new agents. This was Mark's territory. Under his guidance, cadets developed the combat, technology, and subterfuge skills needed for ARSI's more profitable ventures; namely, the private contracts Mark and Lip arranged with corporations and paramilitary groups worldwide. This involved thieving, sabotage, hostage rescues, reconnaissance, and the occasional assassination, mostly.

"Again," Mark directed.

One of the intermediate cadets lunged at Sky once more. This time, finally, Sky managed to counter the attack and throw his opponent onto his back.

"Thirteenth time's a charm," said Bradley, taking the hand Sky offered to help him up.

The blond laughed sheepishly, looking calm and relaxed for the first time Mark could remember. His hair was tied up in a high knot, a few soft layers falling down to frame his absurdly beautiful face. It was his first full day at ARSI, but he looked surprisingly at ease. Almost like he was enjoying himself.

"Let's finish on that note," Mark said. "Good work."

Sky seemed less confident when he turned to Mark, his smile giving way to a vaguely nervous expression. He thanked Bradley, said goodbye, and then approached Mark uncertainly.

"How bad was it?" Sky asked quietly, a faint crease between his brows.

"Relax," Mark said. "You'll get there."

Sky reached up to rub the back of his neck. The shoulder of his tee shirt rode up to expose the edge of a tattoo trailing down his bicep, and fell over it again when he lowered his arm.

Mark nodded toward it, frowning curiously.

"Oh." Sky said, shrugging awkwardly. "Yeah."

"How big?"

"Well..." Sky started to measure with his hands, then stopped and looked up at Mark, raising his eyebrows a little uncertainly. "Wanna see?"

"Sure."

Sky pulled off his shirt and slowly turned to show the artwork covering his torso.

Now it was Mark's turn to raise his eyebrows. That was a lot of ink. Sky's history with the Iida syndicate was written on his body. His back was generously decorated in the traditional motifs favored by Japanese gangsters, dominated by an elegant dragon whose tail trailed over his shoulder, wound down his chest through a cascade of flames and flowers and curled its end around Sky's left nipple.

But the tattoos were drastically unlike the dark, bold, and dense designs that the yakuza traditionally used to express power and status. Sky's tattoos were done in a palette of pinks, blues, and greens that complimented his warm skin and golden hair, and each shape seemed lovingly crafted to flatter the graceful lines of his body. Between the flowers and flames were tantalizing glimpses of silky, unmarked skin, and the dragon's teasing grip on his nipple was undeniably provocative. Sky had been marked not for power, but for sexual value.

"You like them?" Mark asked curiously.

Blue-gray eyes met his. "Yeah," Sky said slowly. "Is that weird?"

Mark shrugged. "Better to like them than not like them, isn't it? Since you have them."

Sky hesitated and then gave a small nod.

Christ, had the kid always been so nervous? Or had his most recent catastrophe humbled him at last? If that was a step towards learning not to fuck up all the time, all the better. But it was no good to be broken. Fragile minds made Mark uneasy.

"You hungry?" he asked.

"Not really." Sky slipped back into his shirt. "But, uh, is there someplace we can talk?"

"All right. Let me show you your quarters."

Sky walked beside him in silence for a few minutes, then remarked, "This place is not what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"Thought it'd be more like jail, I guess."

Mark opened the door to the dormitory building. "It's not so bad."

"No. I like it."

"Good." Mark liked it, too. In fact sometimes, on good days, he was proud of it. Building ARSI with Lip and Kel was easily the most fulfilling thing he'd ever done. Now ARSI was where he could focus on what he was good at, do things that came naturally to him, distract himself from things he didn't want to think about.

He led Sky up the stairs to the second floor, where the room he'd arranged was at the end of the hall.

"Here you go." Mark entered the code to unlock the door and pushed it open, gesturing for Sky to enter. "Probably not what you're used to."

The minimalist room was attractive enough, furnished with dark wood and chrome accents, and comfortably lit. Essentially a studio apartment, it was equipped with a small bathroom, a kitchenette, and a workspace, with a single bed set into an alcove on one end. There was enough floor space for calisthenics, and beside the closet was a recessed area devoted to a pull-up bar and a basic set of weights.

"It's fine. Great." Sky looked at the exercise equipment with some chagrin. "I should get to know that stuff, huh?"

"Can't hurt." Mark leaned back against the sink, hands in his pockets, and watched Sky take it all in.

"No windows."

"Security." Nodding to a panel of buttons near the exercise area, he explained, "Blue sounds the alarm."

"Does that ever happen?"

"Not yet. Just drills."

Sky moved to the kitchenette and slowly leaned back against the counter beside Mark.

Mark studied him, waiting to hear what he had on his mind.

"You don't hate me," Sky said at last. It was a cautious statement, spoken with some confusion.

"Nobody hates you," Mark said calmly. "Sky, you've gotta know that. You're an empath."

The blond looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight. "It's not that simple," he mumbled.

"Nobody hates you. I think you hate yourself, and you're trying to blame it on other people."

Sky opened his mouth as if to argue, but nothing came out

"I don't know how to talk you out of that." Mark shrugged. "Projecting that on everyone else. But it's not gonna help anything. You have to deal with your own shame. On your own. You know what I mean?"

Sky shook his head and turned his face aside. "I don't know how."

"Wish I could tell you," Mark said wryly. It certainly wasn't _his_ field of expertise.

"I should be dead for what I did to Ken. I know it. I want to be. I would be, just I keep thinking he..."

"Keep thinking he what?"

"He'd think things that aren't true," Sky said, his voice quivering. "Like, he'd think I didn't care about him, didn't care enough to be there someday if he ever needed me. But I _will_ be there if he needs me, and that's why I can't kill myself." He was shaking terribly now. "But I'm still a coward because I wish someone _else_ would kill me, so I could die and he wouldn't think it was my choice."

"Sky," Mark said grimly, and pulled the kid into his arms. "No."

"You _know_ I should be dead," Sky choked out, his voice muffled against Mark's shoulder. "You know what they did to him. I left him alone in there. He couldn't even die, and I promised to save him and I didn't." He was babbling now, and his anguish was starting to leak out as he lost control of his Talent. "Once I had a dream he slit my throat and I woke up and wished it—"

"Hey." Mark pulled back and held Sky's tear-streaked face in his hands. "No. You can't think like that."

"You don't know how much I want to die."

"I do," Mark said simply. "I've been there. And I did it."

That was years ago, when he was still with Jen, at a time when _he_ was the unstable one. His nihilism used to spiral. Sometimes not even Jen could keep him on the ground. It came to a point when his dark, distant mood, self-harm and carelessness was making everyone miserable. Since he didn't feel like being around anyway, he slit his wrists.

He was gone for a while. But Jen's healing abilities had cropped up by then. That was when they found out some Talents could be brought back from the dead.

"Yeah," Sky said, "and you don't regret it."

Fucking empaths.

"Well, I don't feel a lot of things I'm supposed to feel," Mark said. "But I know it was a dumb, selfish thing to do. All it did was make a big mess and fuck a lot of people up."

"It wouldn't fuck anyone up if I died."

"That's not true. You just can't see past your own feelings." It wasn't often Mark spoke with such certainty, but there were three areas in which he was a world expert: fighting, fucking, and self-destruction. "I was just like you. All I did was fuck myself up, piss everyone off, wear them out until they couldn't stand me. I figured they'd be upset but they'd definitely get over it. So I did it, and then Jen brought me back to life, and I was wrong. Everyone was..." Mark shook his head, remembering Lip and Dylan in particular. "...hurt. Still."

"I'm not _you_ , Mark."

"Look, people want you to be okay. All right? They might not know you, or trust you, or even like you much right now. But they want you to make it. I know that doesn't feel like a lot, but it is. Think about that."

There was a long silence. Sky's head was lowered, loose strands of hair partially hiding his face.

"You wanna get some rest?" Mark asked softly.

Sky was silent at first, and then he asked, "Can you just stay here for a while?"

"Yeah."

Sky seemed to relax, the tension leaving his shoulders. He was still for a while, and then he turned toward Mark, his gaze still aimed somewhere off in the lower distance. "How did you get stuck babysitting me?"

"I invited you here."

Sky met his eyes again at last, and there was something else in his blue-gray gaze. Sometime calmer and more intent.

Mark saw where this was going, because he and Sky _were_ alike in some ways. It seemed like sex was one of them. They both loved it, craved it as an outlet, were probably addicted to it.

So he wasn't surprised when Sky stepped up and put a hand on his side to pull him close until their faces were inches apart. But when Sky reached up to cup his cheek, Mark gently caught his hand and held it between their chests.

"I don't know," Mark murmured.

"You don't want me?" Sky asked quietly.

"Maybe I shouldn't."

Maybe it wasn't a good idea. Maybe he should try to be another kind of friend to Sky. Not that he had any experience keeping sex and friendship apart, but at this moment, he wondered if it was right to let this happen.

"Why not?" Sky pressed, not letting more than a half-inch of space between them.

Mark shook his head, reaching up to brush a strand of golden hair from Sky's cheek. "Maybe it's not the best thing I could do for you."

Even so, this hesitation was wrapped up in a familiar sense of resignation. He had been in this position countless times. His life was an endless series of these moments, trying to find a sense of right or wrong in the act of surrendering to some desire, and failing, every time, to do so.

"Or maybe it is." Sky ran his fingertips down the sides of Mark's neck, his blue-gray eyes as calm as Mark had ever seen them. It was almost disconcerting, in fact, to see Sky slide into confidence as the air between them turned sexual. But it didn't seem fake in the slightest. No, it seemed like the realest version of Sky he'd yet seen.

Mark nodded slowly, his reservations slowly dissolving. As if he'd ever doubted that they would. Finally dismissing his own never-ending self-weariness, he pulled the blond in for a kiss.

Fuck, he did taste good.

And the subtle ways he moved, the pressure of his hands and his body, the way he shifted his weight against Mark, were quick to cast a spell.

"You using your Talent on me?" Mark murmured as Sky's fingertips left trails of pleasure winding down the length of torso.

"Yeah." Sky pressed his body against Mark's with a subtle roll of his spine. He tossed his hair out of his face and took Mark by the chin, turning his face to the side and taking his earlobe between his teeth.

"You should ask first." But Mark had no real objections, did he?

Fuck, when was the last time he'd really lost himself in sex? The empath's touch was cutting through tension he'd been carrying for longer than he could remember, forcing a small groan from his throat.

"Let me do it," Sky whispered against his earlobe. "It'll be good. I swear."

Yeah, _no shit._ Normally he would have taken the lead by now, unleashed his own magic on the blond's perfect body. But Sky was taking charge, and for now it was easier to surrender.

Dylan. That was the last time he'd lost himself in it. And that had been so long ago now, since before everything got so dark...

Sky stepped back and pulled off his own shirt, exposing once more his slim, gracefully defined torso and the tattoos that called out like a siren's song, begging to be touched. The blond hooked his hand in the front of Mark's waistband and pulling him forward.

"I bet you don't need it," Mark replied.

"Don't you use your Talent when you fuck?"

"That's fair." Mark took Sky's ass in both hands and squeezed, pushing him back towards the bed. "Just don't go crazy."

"Don't worry. I can tell what you need." Sky peeled off Mark's shirt and snaked a hand down the front of his body to grab his stiffening cock through his pants. He wasn't gentle.

Mark swore, his lust spiking instantly at the unexpected flash of pain.

"See?"

Mark laughed under his breath and let the blond push him back onto the bed to get rid of his trousers.

It was a relief to see the lost, despairing look in those gray-blue eyes give way to hungry intent. And if this wasn't the responsible thing to do, well, it was the best Mark could manage.

Mark ran his hands up the length of the blond's torso, following the dragon's tail to the perfect pink nipple it held so delicately. He flicked it gently and then rose up to capture it in his mouth. Sky gasped, grabbing his shoulders and snaking his body to grind down hard on Mark's hips. "Suck it." He grabbed Mark's hand to shove it between his own legs, where his dick stood stiff and hot in his dark boxer briefs.

"You do know what to do," Mark breathed. He caught the hard peak between his teeth for a moment before dragging his mouth up Sky's neck and toppling him onto his back to rid him of his shorts.

"You think you're hard to read?" Sky's head fall back when Mark gave his cock a nice, twisting stroke.

Mark had to smile. "No, I doubt I am."

"You're into some dark things."

"I'm into _all_ things," Mark corrected, twisting his hand again.

The blond gasped sharply, looking down at Mark's hand on his cock as though surprised by the other man's skill. Mark was used to that reaction. Why they never saw it coming, he'd never understand. Of course, Sky would be an expert at making men feel like gods, but something told Mark he wasn't simply an actor.

"You are, too, aren't you?" Mark watched the pleasure play out across those beautiful features. "You even like it when it's ugly. You get something out of it you can't explain."

Sky raked his teeth over his lower lip, nodding. "You think that's gross?"

"No." Mark ran his thumb over Sky's chin and kissed him deeply. "No," he said again. "Just makes me want to give it to you."

"Just let me take it." Sky pressed him back against the head of the bed and pushed his thighs apart. Those soft lips felt hot and electric as they made their way down his body. They felt otherworldly when they wrapped around his cock.

Mark's fingers tangled in Sky's fine blond hair as the empath worked his lips and tongue, his throat, his Talent. "Fuck."

Sky reached up to tweak his nipple, his hands never still for a moment. When Mark tried to shift his position so that he could reciprocate, Sky roughly shoved him backward and held him in place by a hand at the base of his throat.

Mark relented, stroking that fine blond hair as tendrils of pleasure spread through his thighs and stomach, legs and chest, until his whole body vibrated, already begging for release.

Sky doubled his efforts, working his throat around Mark's cock like he was trying to swallow it all. And then without warning he raked his nails down Mark's sides, hard enough to break the skin.

Mark gave a rough groan, gripping Sky's hair as he came in sharp, thunderous pulses.

It was no ordinary climax, of course. Enhanced by Sky's Talent, it felt more like a full sensory hallucination of orgasmic apocalypse, which was _exactly_ what he needed. It left him wrecked, weakened, the way he used to be after sex with...oh, who fucking _cared?_

Mark pulled Sky up and dazedly kissed his lips, tasting himself on them. "That was _good_ ," he breathed as he got Sky settled in his lap, wrapping a hand around his dick again.

"Can we do this more?"

"You haven't even come yet." Mark teased him with slow, gentle strokes.

"But I know you'll make me." Sky moaned and thrust into Mark's fist. "I always wanted it. I knew you'd like it."

"I do," Mark murmured as Sky's head fell back. "You're right."

Sky curled forward again, wrapping his arms sweetly around Mark's shoulders, getting as close as he could without making it harder to touch him.

"Good." Mark wrapped an arm tightly around his back, kissing his shoulder. "That's so good."

Sky exhaled shakily, clinging as he started to crumble. "Please."

"That's it," Mark breathed. "That's it, Sky."

The blond was sweet when he came, all soft, throaty moans and restless hands that stroked and squeezed Mark with feverish urgency. When the last convulsions died down into shivers, Sky melted against him like a puddle of silk.

Mark relaxed, too, settling into the mattress with a long, satisfied sigh.

"Stay," Sky whispered, before he'd even caught his breath. His hands tightened on Mark's shoulders and he curled up closer against him. "Feels so good."

"Yeah," Mark promised, wrapping his arms more securely around the troubled, talented younger man, who was beginning to make a little more sense.

#  7. 2 A.M.

It was two in the morning, and someone was watching TV in the living room.

Aki slowly opened his eyes and stared up into the dark, listening to the soft din of prerecorded voices chattering faintly down the hall. It was a strangely comforting sound. Luke had always liked to fall asleep on the couch with Mark or Lip watching a movie or a sports game. It was only now that Aki felt the appeal of it. It was a safe, peaceful sound, an indoor sound. It meant someone was sitting nearby with the time and space to relax, to be quiet and enjoy something. It meant the house wasn't empty, that someone else was probably awake. It was nice.

Shit. He'd slept well. It was strange. He felt calmer, kind of. Less suspicious of the air.

It hadn't been easy accepting the telepath's offer of a dreamless sleep, but he was out of cards to play. He had to get stronger. No fucking way was he getting laid out like that again.

"I'm not making up advice for the hell of it," Jin said. "Don't they teach you anything about your own damn brain? You need food. You need sleep. Common sense. Your mind will try to heal itself if you give it a fuckin' chance."

He was right, maybe.

Fuck, it was hard to stomach this weakness. Before Jen, he'd been strong. For most of his life he'd worked to be stronger, harder and faster than any conceivable threat. He'd had a body that did exactly what he wanted it to, and a mind well trained enough to block psychics. It was strong enough to resist Jen's assault for the brief, crucial moments it took to get a few words out to Mark and Luke, deft enough to lock down the vital parts of his mind before she overpowered him.

It was hard even to think back on it. For weeks he'd lain there, numb and powerless, not knowing whether he was alive or dead. At first he had heard strains of sound from outside his head through the smoke and rubble she'd created, felt her presence sliding around in his brain like—it was too ugly to think about. Too degrading, too deep a violation.

But that night, when Luke left the house, Jen left Aki's mind. He felt the departure like a tumor being pulled from his skull, and with it went most of his consciousness.

It was only breathing darkness then, a state between waking and sleeping, between alive and dead. Blind, deaf, motionless, aching. At times there were muffled, distorted noises, like the garbled grunts and warbles of a too-distant broadcast on a broken radio.

It stretched on and on. His thoughts were destroyed beyond recognition. Aki still dreamed of all this, of the darkness and the staticky, feeble gibberish that echoed from the corners where his thoughts used to be.

It was only when Ken came to his side that he realized he was still alive.

Why could he hear Ken's voice and not the others? Maybe he'd never know. But Ken spoke into his ear, and something shifted. The doors Aki had slammed shut to protect the vital parts of his mind began to crack open. And Ken's sweet whisper filled his head like a cool breeze. Ken must have spent hours by his side, carrying on one-sided conversations, words that Aki wished he could remember better.

going to wake up and get

scared of the dark it doesn't do anything to

woman on the bus with a flute and I was

get why he didn't come for me if

be the same but I won't let anything

wish you were here I don't know what they

They'd never talked about it. But, god. If not for Ken...

Now Aki sat upright with a sigh, loosely drawing his knees up and folding his arms upon them with a frown. He'd recalled the ordeal countless times, but this was the first time he was able to think about it without that raw, anxious feeling he'd gotten so used to. He probably shouldn't have let himself get so used to it, really. But what did he know about healing himself after something like that? Jin was the first one who'd offered firm, specific instructions. Eat to get better. Sleep to get better. They were common sense ideas. But Jin's simple, almost exasperated insistence on their efficacy made it a lot easier to take them seriously. And tonight, at least, it felt like he'd gained some ground. It was the first time he'd felt encouraged in a long, long while.

Someone was approaching his room. He turned his head to the door as it slowly opened.

It was Jin who stepped inside, with that lazy fox's smile. "Don't get up," the telepath said sweetly.

Aki frowned at him. "What do you want, Jin?"

"Sleep well?"

"Yeah," he admitted.

"I can tell." Jin looked smug. "Told you to trust ol' Doctor Jin."

Aki made a face, but he nodded in agreement. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Jin came closer slowly, his hands in the pockets of his low-slung jeans. "What was she like?"

That caught Aki off guard. He stared at Jin for a moment before asking, "Jen?"

The telepath raised his eyebrows, amused. "She's the only woman in the story, right?"

Aki sighed, combing a hand through his hair. It was getting a little shaggy, almost reaching his eyebrows in the front. "What do you mean, what was she like?"

"Did she talk to you when she was in your head?"

"No."

Jin cocked his head, propping a hand on the footboard of the bed. "What did she feel like?"

Looking down at his knees for a moment, Aki recalled the stinging, slithering feeling of it, the rake of her claws in his skull and the foreign mass of her Talent thrashing inside. No, she hadn't talked to him. Broke into him, ripped him apart, shredded everything she touched, yes. Acknowledged his humanity, no.

Jin wrinkled his nose. "So, pretty rude."

"Why are you so interested?"

"Shouldn't we all be?"

"Ask someone else. I never met her. She just tortured me and left."

"Why'd she do it?"

Aki looked at Jin again, studying him for a moment before he answered. "I don't know. It seemed like she wanted to hurt someone. Why us, I don't know."

Jin narrowed his eyes just slightly as if reading something on Aki's face. "She would have taken Ken," the telepath said after a moment. "I heard that from Sky. She said she wanted Ken."

"Yeah," Aki said quietly. He wasn't going to say it, but it wasn't a big secret.

"Why?"

"We don't know." Luke had returned a less reliable narrator than when he had left. "I guess she wanted a psychic. Ken was the first choice."

"Guess there's just something about the little shit, huh?" Jin smirked. "Catnip for psycho psychics. By the way, did you know Sky's fucking Mark now?"

"What?"

"Or he will be. 'Cause they're all alone at ARSI and that's what Skittles and Romeo do. I give it twelve hours, tops. Fifteen minutes if they're alone together."

"Who cares?" Aki muttered, and ran his hands through his hair again. "Is Ken awake?"

"Uh-huh. I like this house situation, by the way. So cozy and quaint, here with the two of you. My regular roommates aren't near as domestic. Hey!" Jin snapped his fingers. "We should play Scrabble tomorrow. Maybe watch Karate Kid, knock back some wine coolers? Oh, _hey_ —is that a smile I see?"

"Go to hell," Aki muttered, and lay down again, turning his back to Jin to hide his amusement. "Your Japan references are asinine."

"I'll try harder. Nighty-night, Sakamoto."

\- - -

Jin closed the door to Aki's room and headed back to the living room, intending to crank up the TV volume until Ken came out of his bedroom to scowl at him.

To his surprise, Ken was outside on the balcony, hanging over the railing like he'd dropped something. As Jin approached, wondering whether the kid would be hot or cold to him this time, Ken suddenly hopped over the bannister and disappeared.

Well, what the hell was he up to? Jin rushed outside, craning over the railing to see where Ken had gone. No pretty goblins in sight.

Only one thing to do. Jin vaulted over the balcony to land at a crouch in the courtyard below. Still seeing no sign of Ken, he moved toward the garage that took up almost the entire first floor of the shitty rented box they were calling a house.

No sign of him in the garage, either, and the bikes and car were untouched. Jin moved out to the front of the house, scanning for anyone in the area he could try and look through. But it was past three in the morning, and no one was around.

Damn, it was hard to look for someone whose thoughts he couldn't read.

If he were Ken, where would he go? Jin had been watching him long enough to have learned a few of his habits. The kid always seemed to head for dark streets and wooded places. There was a community park about a half-mile away, with a thicketed stream and everything. Seemed like a good bet.

It was an uneventful walk, and there were no clues along the way. Jin started to doubt his hunch. Shit, it was hard not being able to read someone. The only other person who could ghost on him like that was Jackson, but he never had to go chasing Jackson around. Well, he didn't have to go chasing Ken around either, but...whatever.

The park was big, and by the time he was sure he'd looked everywhere, nearly thirty minutes had passed since Ken had leapt over the balcony.

Ah, fuck it. _You win,_ he thought, turning back. Damn little monster. Didn't he understand a telepath's need for entertainment?

And suddenly, he felt a presence in the distance. It drifted toward his senses like a familiar scent on the breeze. As soon as he caught it, his eyes widened and his blood went cold.

Fuck.

#  8. It Takes a Train

Cities were okay. Ken liked them better than the weird, quiet suburban neighborhoods where houses seemed to multiply. The woods were better. Every once in a while he got strangely nostalgic for one particular dark, thick forest he'd walked through on his way across Europe, after he'd escaped his cage. It was quiet there and no one was around, just crows and squirrels and things like that. He could have stayed in that forest forever, probably, if he'd had all his fingers at the time. It would be hard to survive in the wild without all his fingers. Now, thanks to his regeneration and Lip's medical wizardry, he had all his parts again. Maybe he'd try the woods again someday.

But cities were okay. They were full of weird stuff. He liked the lights and the walking. And he liked those dark and narrow streets, the laundry hanging crisscross up above, the apartment windows with their different glows and sounds and cooking smells. Spain wasn't as different from France as he had expected, but then, he didn't know enough about the world to have solid expectations. It was all right, though. It was relaxing to walk the streets on the outskirts of a different city.

Until he realized someone was following him.

Ken could sense the shadow trailing behind him in a way he would struggle to describe. There were times when he just knew a Talent was close by, like he could smell it, but not really. It was easiest to sense in times like this, when everything was quiet and he was alone and attuned to his surroundings. His awareness of the tagalong didn't change his pace, but it did sour his mood. It seemed like that stupid telepath was always around these days, whether he liked it or not. To his horror, he was kind of getting used to it. Or at least, resigned to it.

Best to just tune him out for as long as possible. Sighing quietly, Ken kept on walking.

Tonight he was particularly in the mood to be alone, for some reason. It felt like he had things to think about. Things that did not include Sky. He was sick of thinking about Sky, sick of being angry at him over what had happened, sick of the faint, faint, _faint_ twinge of guilt he felt every time the blond dug himself a little deeper into trouble. As pissed as Ken was about Sky's outburst and its harm to Aki, he was also pissed that Sky couldn't keep his shit together for five minutes at a time. It was excruciating to think about it, excruciating to watch him build his own disasters over and over and over again.

Maybe Mark would help. Ken knew from overhearing Jin in Aki's room, and from the familiar hum over his empathic link with Sky, that the blond was probably already fucking the older Talent. It was weighing on his mind a little now.

Not because he cared what Sky did in that respect, at all. Sky fucked everyone he possibly could, and Ken had been among the Talents for long enough to know that Mark wasn't exactly restrained in that way. At any rate there was nothing he could think of that interested him less than Sky's sex life.

Mark's sex life, on the other hand, he had some interest in. Actually, he had some interest in the concept in general. It was a strange thing to try and figure out. Back when he had first arrived in Paris, he figured out quickly that he had no idea what sex was, at least the kind of sex most people were used to. The things he had experienced were just different forms of torture. Those activities were completely removed from whatever Aki and Luke did together, or Dylan and Mark, or whoever else. He got that. But he didn't yet completely understand what the normal kind was like, and what he'd seen on TV had left him skeptical. It was difficult to imagine any of them acting like the couple in that stupid _Dirty Dancing_ movie that had aired the other day.

It was hard to imagine anyone acting like that, actually. It didn't add up. Ken couldn't stop wondering how Sky would ever think he'd been doing something like that with Jin. What a dumb thing to cause so much trouble over. Why would he even care, first of all? If there was a rule against having sex, no one had told Ken. But more than that, was it not completely obvious that Ken wasn't doing it with anybody?

The Talents weren't conservative about sex. They all seemed to have a lot of it, with outsiders and with each other. They weren't having it with him, though. It would surprise him if any of them had even thought about it, considering his appearance. Not that he thought much about how he looked, or worried about it, but between his scars, his mismatched eyes, his sharp angles and his skinny body, he might as well have been a different species. Plus he didn't do the whole _thing_ they did, the warm banter and the comfortable touches and the easy innuendos they amused each other with. It was simple enough to imagine them having sex with each other, but him? Not really.

On the other hand, maybe Sky wasn't completely out of his mind to think Jin might be looking at him like that. The telepath _was_ oddly fixated on him, and he was sort of his own species, too—always darting around with no real connection to anyone, poking people to see what they did. And there _had_ been times when Ken got the strange feeling that Jin was wondering what he looked like naked. Ken's strange feelings were usually correct.

Still, the telepath hadn't said anything, or done anything, that hinted at wanting to have sex with him. Had he? Would Ken even know if he had? Yeah, he would. Of course he would. Jin wasn't exactly subtle, was he?

Ken stopped suddenly, blinking. He hadn't been paying attention, and now he noticed he was walking on gravel.

Looking around in confusion, he saw nothing but freight trains. They were standing still and quiet in the dark rail yard, boxcars and huge metal cages lined up tightly along the tracks.

How had he gotten here without noticing?

Ken turned and looked in the direction he'd come from, baffled. Hadn't Jin been following him? How had he forgotten that?

Suspicious, he narrowed his eyes and scanned the shapes and shadows around him, noting the inky darkness within the cracked doors of the train cars, the cluttered shadows beneath their undercarriages.

There was no one in sight, but there _were_ people around. He could feel them. Workers? Homeless drifters?

With his senses on high alert, Ken started walking again. He stepped as quietly as he could manage over the gravel, wondering if anyone would come out of the shadows and try something. The thought was sort of interesting. Maybe he'd get in a fight.

As he scanned the train cars, suspicion gave way to curiosity. His pace slowed, and soon he stopped before the open door of one of the boxcars and peered into the darkness within. He took a step closer, wanting a better look. Before he knew it, he was climbing inside.

The car was larger than it had seemed from the outside, and dark except for the block of moonlight let in by the open door. Ken had barely looked around before he heard a voice from the shadows.

"Aren't you a strange one?"

Ken turned around to face the sound, narrowing his eyes to see into the darkness.

Sitting on a stack of crates at the end of the car, nearly hidden by the shadows, was a tall, wiry young man with light blond hair cut close to his head. He was wearing dark jeans, a black tee shirt, and a black leather jacket with the sleeves cut off. His legs were dangling from where he sat, one swinging so that his foot thumped rhythmically against the crate.

Why hadn't he noticed that sound before? Ken observed the man in confusion, but said nothing.

"What's your name?" the man asked in English.

"Ken," he replied without thinking.

"Ken." The man slowly grinned. " _Buenas noches_ , Ken."

What a face this guy had. He looked like one of those old paintings with all the fighting angels and bloody soldiers and stuff. There was some quality about him that brought Sky to mind, and Ken couldn't figure out exactly what it was. Not just the blond hair, surely. He stepped closer, intrigued.

"That's a good name," the man said. He spoke with a slight accent. Italian, Ken thought, though he'd used Spanish before. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen," Ken replied slowly. "I think."

"Good age, too." The man slid off of the crate and sauntered toward him, cocking his chin. "Spotted you a while back. Couldn't help but notice." With a strange delicateness, the man reached up to his lapel and opened one side of his vest like a cabinet door. There were pockets and loops inside, neatly holding a gun, a knife, and a pack of cigarettes. The man pulled out the cigarettes.

Ken tilted his head, thinking he'd like to get a better look at the knife and the gun, and was disappointed when the vest closed again.

The man flicked open a large metal lighter, and a warm burst of light flared up between them. After he lit the cigarette, the man raised his pale blue eyes to Ken's and stepped closer until they were only a foot apart. Cocking his head, he held the lighter up to Ken's face and studied him by the light of the wavering flame.

"Nice scars," he murmured. "Get those all at once?"

The flame was so close Ken could feel it on his face. "No."

_Why_ did this guy remind him of Sky? Sky definitely wasn't this confident, nor did he have this strange, sly, reptilian quality.

"A collector, huh?" The man leaned closer, whispering, "You must be tough."

The flame singed Ken's hair.

Ken stepped back, blinking, and reached up to where a small strand of his hair had sizzled at the end. He could smell it, and he _hated_ that smell, of burning. It made his stomach turn.

Suddenly this felt like a horrible place to be. Really horrible. Grimacing, he looked around the boxcar. Dark, confined, grimy and damp—what was he doing?

What the _fuck_ was he doing here? And who the hell was this guy?

Ken's eyes narrowed in on the blond man's face. This guy had tricked him, somehow. Lured him in. Who did he think he was? A scowl formed on Ken's face, and his hands curled into fists. "Who the fuck are _you_?"

The man just smiled back and spread his hands. " _Nessuno_."

_Nobody_?

Before Ken could spit out a reply, he felt a sudden, painful cramp in his abdomen. A second later, pain exploded throughout his body.

Now he understood. It wasn't the blond hair that reminded him of Sky. And Ken hadn't wandered to this dark, isolated place by accident.

The empath's smile widened into a sinister grin as Ken hit the ground. "Nobody you know."

His Talent ripped through with such explicit accuracy that Ken felt his bones splintering, his muscles shredding into ribbons. The agony was beyond description, maybe beyond possibility. The Italian's psychic assault aimed straight for the core of perception, delivering a pure distillation of pain with merciless clarity.

But even before Ken understood that his bones were not _actually_ splintering, that his muscles weren't _actually_ shredding themselves, his thoughts were still as lucid as they'd ever been. Except now they were soaked in rage.

This guy was going to _die_.

"You _are_ tough," the blond said, easing up his assault as Ken writhed on the dusty planks. "I think I need to bring you home."

Ken jerked his weight onto his elbows, shuddering from the pain still coursing through him. There were no coherent thoughts in his mind now. Instead there was a strange tightening, like the flex of a muscle, and a heat that swelled up so fast it felt like the sun inside his skull.

Something had just flared to life. Like he suddenly had an extra limb. Or a new weapon.

_Snap_.

With a crack of mental force, he repelled the empath's Talent and fired back with his own. He could feel his brain doing it, could feel the force reeling back and shooting forward over some invisible channel. He could feel it slamming into its target, the resistance of the shields it met, and the satisfying way they buckled.

The blond stumbled back against the crates, blood spurting from his nose.

How had he done it? How had he gotten under Ken's shields like that, played with him like a fucking doll? Jin couldn't get into his head, so how had _this_ guy done it? Ken stalked forward to stand over him. "Who are you?"

The man was staring at his own bloody fingers, his lips curled back in a sneer. "You're gonna regret that, you little cunt."

Ken felt the faintest tingling at the back of his skull, and his face smoothed out in horror. He could feel it now, the tiny gap in his shields, there in the exact same place where he usually felt the soft hum of Sky's empathy. And now he felt this stranger's influence slithering in, floating up inside of his head like vapor. It was different this time, more delicate and insidious, and more immediately disorienting.

"Piece of shit," Ken hissed, trying to gather the same force again, but finding his own efforts strangely half-hearted, overshadowed by a sense of alarm that felt foreign to his own mind. It was only the empath's influence, he knew, but it didn't matter. He was paralyzed, numbed by artificial fear.

"Yeah, you're tough," the man sneered, rising to his feet. His hand shot out to grab front of Ken's shirt. A flash of silver sparkled in his other hand, a knife unfolding with a flourish. "For a fucking _amateur_."

A familiar voice cracked through the space like a bullet through glass.

"Back off!" Jin ordered.

The man looked toward the sound, surprised, and his focus faltered just slightly.

That was all Ken needed.

#  9. Meet the Family

"Shit," Jin blurted as Ken launched himself at Giovanni like a rabid wolverine. The knife changed hands so fast it was like a magic trick, and then Ken was slicing away.

Aw, _shit_.

Why wasn't Vanni fighting back? Why was he all bloody?

Fuck. Jin knew he needed to get them apart before the empath caught his balance and really went berserk. But how was he supposed to get between Ken, Vanni, and a vest full of weapons? Jesus, of all the scary-ass Talents to end up in a catfight...

Goddammit. Jin scowled and sent them both a sharp telepathic command, a coercive directive to stop fighting and back away from each other. Just in case, he also drew his gun.

They rolled out of the shadows and into the dim light coming through the open freight door. The command had worked on one of the maniacs, at least. The snarling empath had stopped fighting back and was frantically trying to escape the tussle. Ken, meanwhile, kept slashing and stabbing like a butcher on coke.

Well, what the hell? Jin vaulted into the boxcar, training his gun on the pair. "Stop or I shoot," he commanded. It sounded stupid. No wonder he'd never said it before. But it worked: Ken froze mid-stab, pausing his assault on Vanni. Jin exhaled in relief.

But then Ken's venomous glare slid right over to him and he adjusted his grip on the knife.

Shit.

"Whoa," Jin said quickly, shaking his head as Ken dropped Vanni and started toward him. "Hey— _whoa_!" He jumped back as Ken lunged, curling his stomach to avoid the first arching slash. "Wait a second!"

"Who is he?" Ken snapped, ignoring the gun trained on him as he backed Jin up against the crates.

"I came to save your ass, you little—"

"So shoot him," Ken commanded, pointing to where Vanni was leaning against the door on the far side of the car, gripping his bleeding ribs and muttering viciously under his breath.

Jin gawked at Ken, astonished. "You're hard as fuck," he said without a trace of sarcasm, and then jumped back again when Ken came at him. "I _can't_ shoot him, he's—would you stop coming at me for one fucking second?"

To his surprise, Ken did. Not only that, but he dropped the knife. And before Jin could wonder why, the kid's feet came just slightly off of the floor. The violence in his eyes turned into something more Satanic as he looked behind Jin.

Jin whipped around, and his jaw dropped in shock.

Standing side by side in the coarse gravel between the cars, looking up at them like two critics on opening night, were Jackson and Rinzen.

Knowing Rinzen had Ken restrained, Jin lowered his gun to take this in. Jackson looked as good as always, sharp-shouldered and cool, with that fine, sculpted face and the muscular body no clothes could hide. He was dressed in his usual impeccable fashion, though in a train yard setting his finely tailored suit made him look more like the criminal overlord that he was than the polished businessman he usually pretended to be.

Rin stood beside him in trousers and a dark button-down jacket. The young Tibetan's face was cool and calm, like he had trained it to be, but he smiled a little when he met Jin's eyes. And then he frowned and looked at Ken.

_Tell him to stop it,_ he ordered Jin without speaking.

Jin glanced between Ken and Rin, surprised, and realized Ken was ramming the telekinetic's shields. Rin was not amused, and Jin felt a flash of concern for Ken. Telekinetics weren't people you wanted to fuck with, especially Rinzen. But then, Vanni was no one to fuck with either, and, well, the kid handled himself just fine against him.

_What do you expect?_ Jin projected back. _Vanni riled him up._ Stupid Vanni. Jin shot the bleeding empath a glare.

It had been a long time since the four of them communicated on their own private telepathic channel, with Jin as the conduit. He had missed it. But now he couldn't enjoy it.

The whole scene was suddenly very confusing for Jin, the initial wave of glee at the sight of Jackson and Rin quickly muddied by uncertainty. What was Vanni doing, fucking with Ken? Had Jackson ordered this?

_Bring him down_ , Jackson said. _Nicely._

Jin watched Ken glide out of the car, his gut twisting uneasily. Something felt...weird. Almost like he didn't want Rin to be doing that. _Really_ didn't want it. It wasn't like there was a choice, with Ken trying to cut everyone in sight, but...still.

As Ken was moved down to the ground to stand before Rin and Jackson, Jin found himself hopping out onto the gravel, unable to resist the urge to stand beside the maniac who'd just been trying to filet him.

Ken had fixed his eyes on Jackson, and Jin could almost _hear_ the look in them: _Murder_. _Murder. Murder._

Jin ruffled his own hair, trying not to show his discomfort. How would this all look to Ken? Like Jin had tricked him. Like Jin had planned this, conspired to have him attacked and trapped.

Son of a bitch. Was this really necessary? Couldn't Jackson have warned him, at least? Was there some reason Ken had to end up all telekinetically trussed up and hauled around?

"Jin." Jackson's smooth voice rumbled through the night air like a dark river. "It's good to see that you're well."

Jin blinked, looking from Ken to Jackson. "Yeah...hey."

Yeah, it was good to see them, too. He'd been craving this reunion for almost two months. It was just that he was kind of distracted, now, by Ken's murder-eyes and the way he was at Rin's mercy. The Tibetan was glaring at Ken, and Jin shifted his weight restlessly.

_What are you doing?_ Jin asked Rin. _Don't be fucking with him._

_Tell him to quit_ , Rin replied.

Jin looked at Jackson. _Tell Rin not to fuck with him_.

"Let him talk, Rinzen," Jackson said, his eyes locked on Ken.

"Cocksucker!" Ken's voice was hoarse. And then, to Jin's horror, he _spat_ at _Jackson._

Jackson was already holding up a hand to Rin, telling him not to retaliate, though the telekinetic still made sure Ken missed.

"You have every reason to be angry," Jackson said, his eyes locked on Ken. "I do apologize for this imposition. I'd have Rinzen release you if I thought it safe."

Ken said nothing, and Jin glanced at him again. Incredibly, the rage in his face had cooled and his features had settled back into their usual mask. Only his eyes glittered with hard intent. There wasn't a trace of fear, even though he had to realize he was no match for these three.

Jin didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. He felt weird. Almost sick. He looked at Jackson, impatient for the man to get to the point of this uncomfortable encounter.

"My name is Jackson Gadamer," Jackson continued. "This is Rinzen, a telekinetic. And that's Giovanni, an empath. Of course you already know Jin."

The Italian was now sitting on the edge of the freight car behind Jin, scowling and poking at the various cuts and punctures he'd sustained. His icy blue eyes flicked over to Ken only briefly, just enough to convey pure hatred. _Crush his balls, Rin._

_Shut up_ , Jin replied fiercely, earning a scornful look from the empath.

"I regret what's happened here," Jackson continued. "And I take full responsibility. If I had known where you'd be tonight, I would have warned my team to steer clear. But I find you rather difficult to read. I believe that's exactly what caught Giovanni's attention when you passed by. But I sincerely apologize for this aggression. I assure you it will never happen again."

"Let me go," Ken said quietly.

Jackson nodded to Rin, who slowly loosened his hold. He'd still be able to stop Ken in an instant if he made the wrong move.

Ken said nothing, merely glaring at Jackson. His eyes had become cold and calculating in a way that chilled Jin's blood.

"Is there anything I can do," Jackson said, "to make up for this disastrous introduction?"

Still Ken said nothing.

Christ, had Jackson planned on this? Why would he want to be on Ken's bad side? Did he have to bring Jin with him?

Jackson was unbothered by Ken's silence. "Well, I'll leave you now. I'm sure our next meeting will be more pleasant."

At last, he turned his hazel eyes on Jin. _From now on, observing him is your top priority._

_Oh, really?_ _Then thanks for making him fucking hate me._

_You'll figure it out._ Jackson was turning away. Vanni hopped down onto the gravel to follow, holding his side.

Jin blinked, holding out his hands. _You're just gonna leave?_

_It's not time to catch you yet._ "We'll meet again soon," Jackson said aloud.

Rin lingered, looking regretfully up at Jin. _It sucks without you._

Miss you too, Holiness.

Rin smiled a little, but he shot one more dark look at Ken before he followed Jackson and Vanni.

Maybe Jin would sulk over the paltriness of this reunion later. For now, he was relieved to see them go.

He had one pissed off little demon to deal with.

#  10. Rearranging

"Are you..." Jin trailed off. _Are you okay?_ It always sounded like such a stupid question. That was probably why he'd never said it.

Man, tonight was weird.

Ken was still standing in the same place, glaring after the departed Talents. Now he finally turned his head to meet Jin's eyes. His gaze, as usual, was cool, steady, and impossible to read.

"You're scary," Jin said, and exhaled like he'd been holding his breath. "You know that?"

"Do you have a car?"

"Uh." Jin blinked. "A bike. Or we can get a car."

He stood staring at Ken for a moment before realizing the kid was waiting for him to walk. Jin started off across the gravel in the opposite direction of the others, and Ken fell in step beside him.

They walked for a few minutes in silence, during which Jin only grew more annoyed and unnerved.

"I didn't know they were here," he said at last.

Ken scoffed.

"I didn't. I didn't know you were gonna run into Vanni like that."

"Who cares?"

_I care,_ Jin thought, but _shit_ , that sounded stupid, didn't it? Why was he thinking of all this stupid shit? He scowled and swerved in front of Ken, holding up his hands. "Wait a minute."

Ken stopped, looking up at him with a cold gleam in his eye.

"I don't want you thinking I—"

"That was your master, huh?" Ken interrupted.

Fucking Jackson and his stupid plans. Dammit. He'd _just_ started to win the little shit over, and now he had to get on top of this mess? "That was Jackson," Jin confirmed.

"Lord Gadamer."

"Shut up," Jin retorted without thinking, and scowled. "Fine, whatever. That was him, yeah."

"The precognitive."

"Right."

"So I guess he knows all about my future."

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Does he know I'm gonna kill his empath?"

Jin groaned softly, tipping his head back. " _Don't_ fuck with Vanni. All right? You caught him off guard this time. That won't happen again."

"So that's like your family."

"Sure. Look, just, I didn't _know_ about this, okay?"

"So, what?"

"So you can't think I helped ambush you or some shit."

"They ambushed me all on their own?"

"They...fuck, I don't know!" Jin growled, frustrated. "But I didn't want anybody fucking with you. That's why I came."

"Why? Because we're friends?"

Jin looked at him, helpless, and lifted his shoulders. What kind of a weird question was that? Finally he said, "Yeah."

Ken's sneer turned into a smirk, and he started walking again. One would never have guessed he'd just gone up against one of the strongest and cruelest Talents Jin had ever worked with. How the _hell_ had he gotten the best of Vanni?

"Whatever your Talent is," Jin said after a few silent minutes, "it's pretty badass. What did you do?"

"How did he get under my shields?"

"Vanni?" Jin glanced at him. "Empaths are hard to keep out, even for you. Maybe especially for you," he realized. "You've got that connection with Sky, right?"

"So?"

"Any point of connection is a weak spot. Like a secret door. If someone's good enough, they can find it and get in. We link up telepathically, which is hard to hack. But empaths are the best at finding ways in, and it's even easier for them when the opening is empathic to start with. You get it?"

Ken was quiet for a moment. "So he got into my head the same way Sky does?"

"Yeah. Almost definitely."

"How do I close it?"

"I don't know. Sometimes you can, sometimes you can't. But it's hard to keep an empath out if he wants in. Really hard." That's what made them so fucking insufferable, from Wilhelm Strauss—KGA's most terrifying Talent—to Sky Hookerface.

Ken said nothing more. They kept walking, their footsteps crunching along across the gravel.

Something weird was going on. Jin couldn't shake the feeling that he had to _do_ something about this. Ken was never exactly friendly, but now the little shit was cold as ice. How much of his anger was directed at Jin? He wanted to know. Needed to know. Maybe he should try and explain again...

Ken spoke suddenly. "Why didn't you go with him?"

"Jackson? Because he's still playing along with KGA until the timing is perfect to split off. Jackson always plays the long game."

"Why couldn't you just stay with them?"

"Because Strauss, the guy who just took control of KGA, has this weird thing about me and Jackson."

"Why?"

"Because." It was a long story. "Strauss never wanted Jackson to be able to choose his own team. But Jackson got his way. Then Strauss tried to keep him from drafting me, specifically, because if Jackson could turn a telepath like me into a high performer, it would prove his methods were better than Strauss's. But Jackson got his way again."

"So?"

"So? That's what Strauss has against Jackson and me. And Strauss's last big effort was trying to get me back to KGA for examination, since he thinks all telepaths should be dead by twenty, and I'm two years over the expiration date. But Jackson still held more sway with the Board, so he won again."

"So?"

_"So_ , when Strauss took over a few months ago, Jackson wasn't ready to split from KGA yet, but he knew I couldn't stick around. Because no one's holding Strauss back now, and everyone knows he wants to get rid of me to get back at Jackson. That's why I had to leave right away."

"What if Jackson isn't just playing along? What if he _is_ KGA?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jin sighed wearily. "What if." Ken wasn't talking because he was in a friendly mood. The kid was pissed, and he was looking for places to stab.

"Where's your bike?"

"Right up here."

Jin had parked on a small paved lot at the edge of the train yard. When they reached it, he picked up his helmet and offered it to Ken. Ken just stared at him.

Jin sighed and put it on himself, getting on the bike. "You're not gonna make me crash on purpose, are you?"

Ken said nothing, but climbed onto the back of the bike and wrapped his arms around Jin's waist. There was nothing friendly about his touch—his forearms may as well have been two iron rods clamped over Jin's stomach—but it still soothed Jin's nerves a little, for some reason.

Jin focused on the road, wondering if he'd have to deal with Aki in pissed-off Bruce Lee mode. The Angst Warrior had been surprisingly reasonable that night in Paris when Jin had mistaken Ken for a KGA agent and shot him in the stomach. But that had obviously been Ken's fault. Jin wasn't sure he could count on the same leeway this time around. It would depend on what Ken had to say about it, Jin guessed.

At the house, Ken went straight to his room and shut the door.

Jin threw himself onto the sofa, wishing he could crawl out of his skin.

#  11. Get Used to It

Pushing open the door to the hotel bathroom, Jackson found Vanni sitting shirtless on the edge of the tub, cleaning his wounds.

"No serious cuts?" Jackson asked.

Vanni grunted in the affirmative, still fuming over the encounter.

That was understandable. Though it was a secret closely guarded by his true teammates, Giovanni was among the most powerful empaths alive. Before tonight, the idea of an untrained Talent catching him off guard would have been laughable.

"Thank you for taking the hit." Jackson put his hands in his pockets. "It was important. Tell me about him."

"Can't." Vanni finished swabbing a gash on his shoulder and straightened slightly to look up at Jackson, resting his hands on his knees. "He's all locked up. There's just one little path down deep, from a link with another empath. That's the only way I got in."

"It would have been difficult if not for the link?"

"Would have had to break something, probably. And it felt hard to break."

"Can you tell me anything about his psychostructure?"

"Shields were too thick. Head was completely silent. And they felt...old. Natural." Even as he was debriefed, Vanni was sulking. The strange little Talent had clearly made an impression. "Like they were just _there._ "

Natural psychostructure, formidable enough to defeat Vanni's empathy. Exactly as predicted. Jackson Gadamer was very, very pleased. "And how was he able to overcome your attack?"

"I don't know." Now the Italian sneered in disgust. "It should have laid him out. I wasn't trying to be nice. But he didn't panic from the pain. He got angry. Next thing I knew, he was shooting me out of his head. Could've fuckin' knocked me out doing it like that. And then he blasted me."

"Empathically? Telepathically?"

_"Non lo so_. I couldn't tell. It just..." He faltered and shook his head, frowning more pensively now. "Felt like my head was about to explode. For a second it almost felt like my _Talent_ was going to explode."

There was no way the Italian could know how happy those words made Jackson. "Then you have no idea how to characterize him," Jackson said.

Vanni shook his head. After a moment he raised his eyes to Jackson's, glaring coldly, and said, "You didn't tell me _I_ was gonna run into the fucking Key."

"Again, I appreciate your work. I know it wasn't pleasant. As for the second order of business..."

"It's done," Vanni said curtly. "The apathy kicked in. Just like you planned."

Jackson let that sink in for one luxurious moment before he slowly nodded. "Good."

The Italian's sculpted features took on a cruel petulance, just as Jackson had expected. "You said Jin would get _attached_ ," he said venomously. "Protective. You didn't tell me he'd be _fucking obsessed._ "

Jackson paused for a brief moment at that, enjoying a little aftershock of satisfaction at this corroborating detail. What had infuriated Vanni was very good news for all of them.

"On the contrary," Jackson said calmly. "I clearly explained that the Key would become Jin's main focus."

_"Sì_ , his main focus," Vanni sneered. "He's fucking in _love_ with him."

"I suppose I could have explained it to you in clearer terms."

"Well, it's done," Vanni went on, "Jin doesn't give a shit about your plans anymore. No more conflicts of interest. They can go run through the fuckin' daisies."

There was another long silence as Jackson studied the empath.

At last he said, quite plainly, "As I've said countless times, this undertaking requires major adjustments. Jin is going to be preoccupied for a long while. He is developing new loyalties, and we are going to respect them. We must also respect Ken, as difficult as it may be for you and Rinzen to do. He is essential to our success. We need him to be safe, and we need him to trust Jin."

"I get it," the empath muttered.

"Good." Jackson turned to leave, but paused at the door. "Excellent work, Giovanni. This is an unprecedented accomplishment. Take a good rest. There's food in the kitchen for you."

He left the empath there and went to his office, closing the door and sinking into his desk chair with a long sigh. It was always gratifying to watch his predictions become reality, but this was a new level of satisfaction. He laid his head back, relaxing as he never did in the presence of others, except Jin.

They'd found the Key. Things were in motion.

With Rinzen and Giovanni's help, Jackson had spent the past weeks strengthening old alliances in the underworld, buying new ones, and embezzling funds from several profitable projects. They would not have to worry for finances.

Meanwhile he'd continued to lead KGA's ridiculous goose chase in pursuit of Jin, expertly orchestrating the large crew of Talents he'd been granted for the purpose, following invented leads and reporting invented evidence of Jin's whereabouts directly to Head Chairman Wilhelm Strauss.

Soon Jackson, Rinzen, and Giovanni would simply disappear. The crew of Talents who'd unknowingly carried out the final phase of their escape would be rounded up by KGA and executed, or thrown into the labs. Jackson and his team would abscond to California, where they'd be joined by Jin and the rogue Talents with whom he'd sought asylum, and they'd scatter along the coast to live in hiding as they conducted their cold war against KGA.

And now, they'd found the Key.

The first glimpse of Ken had struck a deep chord in Jackson. It was almost emotional. The visceral mix of tender allegiance and ruthless desire he'd felt was a logical result of coming face to face with the Talent who had defined his most magnificent prophecy—the prophecy that had defined his entire life.

At age fifteen, Jackson Gadamer was already a prodigy at Klaus Gadamer Academy. His visions had manifested early in puberty, and their clarity, accuracy, and relevance had astonished KGA's instructors and researchers from the beginning. As the grandson of Klaus Gadamer himself, Jackson had always been on the radar of the highest-ranking members of the Academy, and his early success marked him as a potential heir to power.

Then one day, as Jackson was drifting off to sleep, the smell of oranges hit him so hard it was as though one had exploded in his nose. The dark room went white, and several minutes later he was staring blearily at his bloodied sheets. His nose was bleeding. His head was pounding. And suddenly he was stumbling to the sink to vomit, visions still flashing like strobes in his head.

Jackson knew he had only a few minutes to act before KGA agents, alerted by the empaths, arrived to escort him to a private chamber and find out what their prodigious young precognitive had seen in such a powerful trance. By the time he sat down with his regular guide and a few members of the Board, he was ready with the version of the prophecy he would recite for the next decade.

I'll encounter a Talent who will be the Key to unprecedented power.

He'll be young. And he will appear so unremarkable that he will be at risk of being overlooked. He will be uncultivated, and he will demonstrate few spectacular qualities other than his natural psychostructure, which will rank as high as any on record, and his restorative abilities. He will be almost death-proof...

And he will possess a hidden Talent of such staggering power that he will surpass in strength even the most formidable Talents ever to have passed through our ranks. The genetic anomalies that will account for this power will be clear and easily charted, and this will provide KGA with the data necessary to perfect a formula for engineering perfect Talent.

Much of this was true. Most, in fact.

The lie was the promise of a genetic anomaly that would complete KGA's ludicrous genome project and allow them to clone perfect Talent. That was a concoction tailored to deceive the fanciful leaders, who had long been obsessed with the idea of controlling the genetics of Talent. They were thrilled by the news that Jackson would lead them to the missing link they dreamed of.

KGA's favorite part of the prophecy could not have been further from the truth. The Key would—Ken did—possess a Talent of staggering power. His innate strength would surpass that of the greatest Talents at KGA. But they would never benefit from this power.

They would be demolished by it.

Yes, it was only logical that Jackson had been so stirred by that first glimpse of Ken floating toward him, the fateful young thing as slight as a sapling, his black hair gleaming beautifully in the night, and his strange green eyes—one very pale, one very dark—blazing with fury. He was wild, fearless, and fiercely alive. He was pure, untamed power. He was perfect.

For the most part, Ken was in Jin's hands now. Jackson smiled to himself, amused by the thought of his life's ambition hanging in the balance between his beloved, volatile, psychotic telepath and an untrained, uncontrollable prodigy.

Ah, well. They had found the Key.

The only thing to do now was to follow the future.

#  12. Aki Tunes In

Aki chewed on another bite of salmon and rice, which was objectively not bland, but underwhelming all the same. As encouraged as he felt by the results of a large dinner and a night of deep sleep, there were more broken parts inside him than just his Talent. It was normal to grieve, he knew. Not two months had passed since Luke's death, and not four months since David's suicide.

Reality changed so fast. It was hard to wrap his mind around how things were just six months ago, or five months ago. Impossible to believe, in retrospect, how good it had been a year ago, or two years ago, when he'd landed in Paris to live with Luke and the other Talents. And he remembered how surreal it had felt back _then_ to consider the past before that, to recall the tangled feud with his father and the bloodbath that ended it.

But in between that old dark life and this new dark life had been a brief, beautiful, bright one, so improbable, so _unimaginable_ now. A life where it felt normal to lounge around that house in Paris with Luke beside him, green eyes soft and adoring, smooth, lithe body warm and wanting. Where his _raison d'être_ was to keep Luke happy, and he excelled at it. How easy it had been back then to whisper in Luke's ear and watch the glow spread over his perfect face, to hold him close and feel his body go loose and limber, to hear all his secrets and bask in his quiet trust.

A far cry from this life, where even on a relatively good morning he was still too gloomy to taste his salmon.

Ken appeared in the doorway in the unnerving way he tended to appear in doorways, silent as a cat. "Hi."

"Morning." Aki set his sullen thoughts aside. "You're up early."

Ken slept like a cat, too, only occasionally rising before eight or nine. It was just after six now. "I want to go for a drive."

That meant something. Aki nodded, finished his last bites of breakfast, and took his plate to the sink. "You ready?"

Within five minutes they were coasting away from the house on the outskirts of Seville and into the surrounding farmlands. Too late, Aki realized Ken probably wanted to eat. "Sorry, we might not see much food out here."

"It's fine. I just want to get away from the house."

"Why?"

"How far can telepaths hear?"

Aki narrowed his eyes. If that bastard had done something... "Kel says five miles is normal if they're good and trained. Sometimes more."

Sometimes a lot more, if sometimes was Jen.

"Five fucking miles?" Ken grumbled, slouching down in his seat. "Fine. Tell me when it's been five miles."

When had Ken started swearing so much? Aki glanced at him, knowing he wasn't going to talk until he wanted. "You tell _me_ when it's been five miles," Aki said. "You should practice things like that."

Ken was mad about something. Whether it was about Jin or Sky remained to be seen. But it was probably one or the other.

"Lip tell you the news yet?" Aki asked.

Ken glanced at him and shook his head.

"Just called me this morning. Says we're going to California."

"California?" Ken said in surprise. "America?"

"Yeah. It's not safe in Europe anymore."

"What about ARSI?"

"It's moving."

Ken seemed taken aback. "Oh."

"Kel thinks we'll stay there awhile. The population density is so low in the west that KGA doesn't bother sweeping it much."

"Have you ever been there?"

"Yeah. It's not bad. You might like it."

Ken still seemed surprised. "What about Sky?"

"He'll probably stay here and help with the transition, but then they'll come, too. There will be some back and forth for a while. It's going to be a pain."

Ken nodded. They were silent for the next several minutes, until Ken asked, "Has it been five miles?"

"Seven and a half kilometers. About a third of a mile off."

"Why are there two different systems?"

"Because Americans refuse to learn the metric system."

"Lip and Kel aren't American."

"Mark's a bad influence." Aki tapped the steering wheel for a minute. "All right. Five miles. Eight kilometers. What's up?"

Ken took a breath and let out a long, irritated sigh. "I met Jackson Gadamer. And the others. The empath and the telekinetic."

That was the last thing Aki expected to hear. He looked sharply at Ken, his hands tightening on the wheel. A rapid stream of questions came clamoring to the front of his mind, but he kept his voice calm and level. "Tell me what happened, from start to finish."

"It was a few hours ago. You were asleep. I was bored, so I went out for a walk."

Aki listened, his eyes on the road, as Ken told how he'd wandered into the train yard without thinking about what he was doing, and how he'd climbed into the boxcar like it was something he wanted to do, and how Jackson's empath had been waiting for him. How the smell of his hair burning had broken the spell, how the empath had laid him out with a blast of agonizing pain, and how he'd fought back and expelled him. How Jin had shown up to intervene, followed by Jackson Gadamer and his telekinetic, and what the precognitive had said to him.

Everything about the story was astonishing, from the fact that Jackson's team had converged on Ken to the fact that Ken had simply come home, gone to bed, and waited until Aki woke up before he said anything.

Then there was the fact that Ken had managed to fight off a KGA empath.

Aki didn't consider himself overly protective of Ken, all things considered. Unlike Sky, Aki didn't think of him as some vulnerable child in need of rescuing. Ken was no less equipped to handle that kind of situation than anyone else was. In fact, he'd proved more than anyone that he knew how to keep himself alive.

Not that this attack didn't raise serious concerns. Aki knew he'd be having a long conversation with Lip and Kel later. But for now, the fact that Ken had been in a fight was no reason to panic. Especially considering the fact that he'd won.

"This is the second time you've gone out in the middle of the night and gotten into some weird confrontation," Aki mused. "Unless there's more you don't tell me."

Ken glanced at him and smiled slightly.

"So, you think Jin was in on it?" Aki asked.

Ken shrugged, but after a long pause he said, "No."

"Why not?"

"He showed up fast, and he held Vanni back even when I was still fighting." Ken spoke gruffly, like it pained him to testify in the telepath's favor. "But mostly I think I would know."

"How?"

"Some things I just know. For sure."

Aki nodded thoughtfully. Sometimes that was all he could do with Ken. There was no way to decipher all of his mysteries in one conversation.

"You said you've never done that with your Talent before," Aki said thoughtfully. "Could you do it again, if you wanted?"

"Yeah."

Aki chewed his lip for a moment before he asked, "Did you think of calling anyone? One of us?"

"No. I just wanted to kill them."

"They were stupid to underestimate you, but we'd be stupid to underestimate them. Next time, will you try to call?"

Ken's nod seemed uncertain. Slowly, he said, "But they're psychics. I'm the only one of us now, who's doing psychic stuff. So..."

Aki grimaced. "True." Too true. "But we can still help. At least we can keep track of you, if anything happens."

"Okay."

"I should tell Lip everything you told me. Is that okay?"

"Yeah."

"All right." Aki paused, considering what he'd heard. He wasn't sure how Ken would take this, but there was no use sugarcoating it. "I need to ask something of you. If you ever start to feel nervous of your Talent, I want you to tell someone you trust. Me, or Kel, or whoever, it doesn't matter. But if you ever start to feel weird, don't keep it to yourself."

Ken frowned for a moment, but then looked at Aki and nodded slightly.

"Good." Aki spotted a small restaurant at a crossroads up ahead. He pulled over to park and turned off the car, pausing before he got out. "Hey. I'm really proud of you. I wish I could have seen it."

He was rewarded by a shy grin, though he only caught a glimpse before Ken ducked out of the car.

There was still more to life than bland salmon breakfasts. Caring about Ken made him feel grounded in a way he'd never experienced. It was good to love somebody like that, someone who would fight until his last dying breath.

And then probably come back again, just to fight some more.

#  13. Dare

Jin didn't return to the house until the next night. As he approached he sliding door on the second floor he scanned Aki's head, looking for any homicidal impulses with his name on them. But the Japanese boy was sleeping soundly. Aki had clearly taken all that advice to heart, and the effects were already showing. Then again, at two months out, he was probably ready to cast off at least one of his mourning robes. Sometimes a change of habits was just the thing to wake a person up.

It turned out Ken was sleeping soundly, too. Of course. He hadn't slept much the night before. Jin shut the door in utter silence and crept toward the bed.

Ken was lying on his back, his head turned to the side. Even in the dark, he was...

Jin cocked his head, looking down at the sleeping demon. Even in the dark he was what? Scary as fuck? He thought of Vanni, nose bloodied and clothes slashed to ribbons by his own knife, and though it brought a smirk of sick amusement to his face to recall the arrogant empath's fury, it was baffling to know this mysterious runt had done so much damage to someone who should have been able to squish him like an ant.

No one had _ever_ done that to Vanni.

Crouching down beside the bed, Jin set down the box he'd brought and studied the lines of Ken's sleeping face. Pale, fine, razor-edged. In sleep his strange beauty seemed more conventional—awake, his demeanor made him more alien. Jin had the urge to reach out and trace the edge of his jaw, to see if it was as sharp as it looked. Instead he carefully opened the box and pulled out his peace offering. He set it on the mattress beside Ken's pillow, right where he would see it if he opened his eyes. Then he carefully lay down on the other side, turning onto his back in the same manner as Ken and closing his eyes.

It was only a few seconds before the goblin sat up. Jin stirred and stretched as if he were just waking up, too, and then looked over to find Ken holding up the cupcake and staring at it.

"Oh, yeah," Jin said. "I brought that."

Ken looked at him, then moved to the foot of the bed and started to peel the paper wrapping away from the cupcake.

"It's chocolate."

Ken shot him a glare. In the dark, his right eye looked black and his left eye looked silver. He looked down at the cupcake again and took a bite, though it didn't quite appear that he was accepting it as a peace offering. More like he just wanted to eat it.

Jin sat up and swung his feet to the ground. "You wanna go hit up a strip club?"

Ken stared blankly at him, chewing.

"Or are you still pissed?" Jin asked. He hit the light switch near the door and leaned back against it, resting his head against the wood. When Ken didn't answer, he asked, "Should I have brought a whole cake?"

"What do you want?"

"Company."

Ken's face somehow managed to convey disgust and indifference at the same time. It was more insulting than Jin expected. He scowled and pushed away from the door, standing next to the bed and kicking it lightly. Ken merely took another bite.

"C'mon," Jin insisted. "We'll break into a museum."

"Go back to your owner if you're lonely."

Jin sighed, looking upward. This again? All right, so Ken had cause to hate Jackson now. But did he have to keep sneering at Jin just for having a boss? Christ, he could practically _feel_ the disdain rolling off the kid each time he mentioned his relationship with Jackson.

"How does it work, precognitive Talent?" Ken asked. "He tells you what's going to happen and what you should do?"

Jin peered at him again, suspicious of this sudden curiosity. "Yeah."

That brought a bemused expression to Ken's face. "So you just believe what he says?"

"Yeah."

"That—" A hint of laughter strummed his voice. "—is the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"It's not dumb," he said, trying to sound patient instead of irritated. It shouldn't bother him so much, the way Ken talked about him and Jackson. "He's never wrong."

"Sure," Ken said with an infuriatingly peaceful kind of sarcasm.

"What? You don't believe his Talent is real?"

"I don't care if he's God. Nobody tells me what to do." The last bite of the cupcake disappeared.

"Fuck off." Jin's patience was cracking. "You'd do whatever Aki told you to do."

"I would not."

"Bullshit. You're like his goddamn pit bull puppy."

Ken's face went dark. He reached up to shove Jin back with a single hand on his chest, standing up in the space he made. "What do you know about Aki and me?" Ken asked coldly. " _Nothing._ You don't know anything at all. You don't even know what my Talent is. That's why Jackson's got you watching me, right?"

Jin cocked his head, studying Ken in surprise. How did he know that? Was he a telepath? "What do you mean he's got me watching you?"

The kid scoffed bitterly. "You think I'm stupid because I was locked up my whole life?"

"No!"

"Your master can fuck himself." Ken thrust his finger into Jin's chest. "You can fuck yourself. You can fuck each other."

Jin looked down at the finger, baffled. "What did I ever do to you except bring you food?"

"Stop pretending I'm dumb."

"I'm not pretending you're dumb." Jin put up his hands in surrender, as if Ken's finger was a gun. "Yeah, he wants me to figure you out. He's interested in you, okay? So am I. Who the hell isn't? You run around with those fuckin' shields, and you block my attack, and you give Vanni a nosebleed when you're not even _trained..._ "

"So?"

"What do you mean, _so_?" Jin laughed in disbelief. "What _are_ you?"

Those green eyes were narrow now. Slowly, Ken removed his finger from Jin's chest.

"Jackson's interested," Jin said again. "I'm interested. That's all there is. All right?"

"Well," Ken concluded, turning away. "You can still go fuck yourselves."

"Wait a second." Jin reached out and took his wrist, but let go quickly when Ken stiffened and turned back around with a deadly glare.

"Don't touch me," Ken said.

"Sorry," Jin said honestly, putting his hands up again. Shit. All right. Boundaries.

"What do you _want_?" Ken snapped. "Why are you always bothering me? Did he tell you to keep begging for attention, too?"

"Goddammit, I am not his fucking slave."

"If he showed up now and told you to cut off my head, you would."

"You'd do the same thing if Aki—"

"If I wanted to."

"All right, fine." Jin threw out his hands, scowling. "I'm a lowly slave, you're a wild hero. You happy?"

"More like disgusted."

Jin muttered a dark obscenity in Russian, and this time he was the one shoving his finger against Ken's chest. "Listen, you little prick..."

"I'll break your finger."

Jin scoffed, jabbing harder. "I dare you."

Well, that was dumb. Now he was grappling with the awful little shit, frantically trying to get his finger out of the pale fist that threatened to crush it.

"Never mind," he yelped when Ken got a handful of his hair. "Time out! Cancel!"

The next thing he knew, they were tumbling across the bed. _Fuck,_ he thought as he fell on top of Ken with a grunt. Goddammit. Now he was really gonna get it. He tried to scramble off, but the kid had his fists clenched tight, one on his finger and one in his hair. So there he was, tied to the tiger's tail. Well, between the tiger's legs, actually.

Ken didn't seem to find anything improper about the position. He merely locked his scary mismatched eyes on Jin's, hard and intent.

"You're funny," he said in a steely tone. "But fuck your team. If any of them ever touch me with their stupid Talents again, I'll kill them. Maybe not right away. But I'll kill them."

Jin believed it.

"Deal," he said, trying to keep his eyes on Ken's and not let them wander over his smooth, brittle face, the scars that were so much clearer this close up, the fine nose and the sharp lips. "I'm serious," he swore when Ken simply continued to stare. "Deal. I believe you. Off-limits. I'll tell Jackson. I tell him what to do, too, you know," he couldn't resist adding, not caring if he sounded sullen.

Ken's chest rose and fell with a measured sigh and Jin felt the extra press of it against his own, and the minute shift along the length of their bodies, his own hipbones digging into the firm flesh of Ken's thighs. Before he knew it, he'd lost sight of Ken's eyes and was staring at the perfect little dip in the center of his upper lip.

Shit.

Ken let go of him and he immediately rolled off and sat up, shaking his aching index finger. He shot a dirty look at Ken, who was still lying there like he'd never been bothered, legs just slightly askew.

Fuck.

_You're funny_ , he'd said.

Mismatched green eyes slid over to meet his, smug beneath their feathery lashes.

_Fuck_.

#  14. Jumping Through Hoops

Aki puffed on his joint, drew it down into his lungs with a deep, slow breath, and sighed. Smoke came tumbling out in clouds, rolling and spinning in the afternoon light. Luke gazed at him with mild exasperation, his head propped back against the wall and lolling slightly over his shoulder.

Photos were weird.

"Look at you," Aki mumbled under his breath, studying each shard of light reflected in Luke's brilliant green eyes, each curved black eyelash. "You're dead."

Luke looked at him still, his lips soft and moist and slightly parted.

Those lips.

His phone buzzed beside him. Aki glanced at it, saw the same Irish number that had called the day before, and rolled his eyes.

Luke's gaze held a note of disapproval, but it didn't look like he really meant it.

Aki pressed his lips together, staring into those eyes as he let the phone ring. "Can't do it," he whispered when the ringing stopped, shaking his head.

He couldn't talk to Dylan. Not yet, and definitely not over the phone. He had nothing to say and no desire to rattle the semblance of stability he was starting to feel. It was the first time he'd been able to look at a picture of Luke without feeling like he was dying inside.

He took another hit, aiming the smoke away from Luke's face. He'd kiss that mouth now if he could. Suck on those lips and feel them go slack with pleasure. Tease him and tease him and...

"Aki!"

Aki glanced up at the voice calling from behind the house. Why would Jin be calling his name?

He looked back at the photo again. He remembered taking it. It was mid-afternoon and they'd been hanging out on the back porch. Aki had already taken several shots, and Luke had given up protesting. Hence the exasperated, mildly disapproving look.

"I need them for when you're not here," he said.

Luke smiled his rueful smile. "Where do I ever go?"

"Sakamoto!"

Aki looked up again at Jin's voice, irritated.

"Sakamoto Aki!"

With a labored sigh, Aki jumped off the bed and went striding toward the living room.

"Sa-ka-mo-to!" Each syllable was punctuated by the sound of a rubber ball bouncing on pavement.

Basketball. Of course. There was a small basketball court behind the house. Aki had seen it when they'd first arrived, but it hadn't occurred to him that anyone would actually use it. Curious in spite of himself, he headed downstairs.

The telepath was hopping from side to side on the court, dribbling the ball. He instantly tossed it to Aki, who caught it neatly.

"First to eleven," Jin challenged, and spread his arms in a ready defensive stance.

Aki frowned down at the ball, turning it in his hands.

"You don't know how to play?"

Come on. Shooting Jin a sour look, he flicked the ball up in a high arc toward the basket.

Jin was already sailing up to intercept. The ball landed neatly in his hands just before it reached the hoop, and he landed on his feet. Smirking, he tossed it back over his shoulder and into the basket. "One."

Aki laughed under his breath, surprising himself. All right. Maybe this could be entertaining. He went in for the ball.

The telepath was nimble and quick, darting between blind spots and anticipating Aki's moves. But Aki was fast, too, and just as tricky. When it looked like neither could get a point in past the other, Aki suddenly tucked the ball under his arm and jumped up to grab the awning above the garage.

"Oh, shit." Jin's eyes lit up. "Ninja time." He sank down in a low crouch, watching Aki ascend the building, ready to block his shot. But Aki came flying down feet-first like a spear, forcing the telepath to jump aside while he accomplished his dunk.

"One-one," Aki announced, dribbling on the other side of the court now, and found himself smiling back at Jin. "How about full contact?"

"I know I don't look that stupid."

"I'll be gentle," Aki said. "I won't mess with your face."

Jin smirked. "Better not."

They started to circle each other.

Every game was better with some combat, in Aki's opinion. As a physical Talent he outmatched the telepath by default, but that didn't mean he wasn't an engaging opponent. Jin was a quick, clever fighter with an irregular style that demanded full attention.

"Ooh," Jin huffed as he narrowly ducked a kick, and then sprang back out of range with the ball in his possession. "Thought you'd be out for revenge."

"Revenge for what?" Aki assessed the space between them from his position under the hoop. "Ken's not the one who got his nose bloodied."

Jin laughed under his breath, shaking his head and glancing up at the basket. "No, he's not."

Aki shot forward. He wasn't as fast as he was before Jen's attack, but he was still faster than Jin. He stole the ball, but then his leg went out from under him. He barely caught himself on one hand and sprang up just in time to intercept Jin's shot, landing within bounds with the ball in his hands again. He faked a shot, waited until Jin was airborne, and then used him for a leg-up to dunk the ball.

The telepath swore as he hit the ground, but he popped back up with a grin. "That was some Mortal Kombat shit."

Dribbling the ball, Aki sized him up again. "Did you know they were coming?"

"No." Jin shook his head. " _Fuck,_ no. Do I look like I want a fight with the fuckin' Antichrist?"

"Kind of, yeah."

"Well, not this Antichrist."

"Good." Aki went for another shot, but Jin swung himself up onto the backboard and stole it for a rebound.

Aki still won, eleven to seven, and found himself grinning as he tossed the ball from hand to hand. It was good to move around, spar a little.

"Cute smile, sensei," Jin remarked. "Makes me wanna put you in the pictures."

"Idiot," Aki said lightly, and tossed him the ball. "Thanks. Good game." He was feeling okay for once. A few days of sleep, a few good meals, and a game of combat basketball did some good.

"Tried to tell you." Jin shrugged. "Where's Ken?"

"Lip's." Lip had decided it was time to start taking Ken's education seriously, and he'd asked the kid over to take some tests and assess what to focus on.

"Just you and me, huh?" The telepath bounced the ball high and caught it when it came back down. "Let's hit the town. Get some drinks."

"You're in a friendly mood."

"I'm always in a friendly mood. And I'm bored as fuck. Come on. Let's go pound some shots."

There was one thing about Jin that annoyed Aki above all: Aki liked him.

The telepath was a callous brat with a sadistic streak, and it was possible he had no morals. But there was something honest about him. It wasn't like Aki trusted him, but he had a strong sense that Jin had certain reliable aspects of his character.

There was something else, too. It was the way he treated Ken. The chemistry between the two was bizarre, but undeniable, and Aki was privately convinced that Jin's interest was genuine. The telepath liked Ken. Aki was sure of it. That was why he could so easily accept Ken's account of what had happened in the train yard, and his conclusion that Jin hadn't had any hand in it.

It wasn't like he wasn't keeping a close eye on the wily KGA runaway, or anything.

He just couldn't help but like him.

"All right, all right, I get it," Jin sighed. "Put your boner away. Get dressed. We leave in ten minutes."

After another moment's hesitation, Aki shrugged and headed inside.

#  15. Getting Higher

Talking to Lip had been interesting. At first Ken was wary of the Australian's sudden focus on his education. But instead of prescribing some dumb version of school or something, Lip asked a lot of questions and suggested a number of things for Ken to focus his attention on. It wasn't dumb at all.

When Ken returned to the house just past eleven, Aki was sitting at the kitchen table with a tall glass of cold tea and a bowl of rice with some fascinating mixture of chicken and egg on top. Dressed in gray jeans and a plain blue shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, he looked comfortable in a way Ken hadn't seen him in a long time. In fact when he smiled and nodded his head in greeting, everything seemed normal for a second.

"I made you a bowl," Aki said, gesturing to the stove behind him. "It's still hot. Figured you'd be back soon."

Ken went straight for the meal, then sat down at the table with Aki.

"I just went out with Jin."

Mid bite, Ken looked at him in surprise.

"He was bugging me to go out and get drinks. Figured it wouldn't hurt." Aki paused for another bite. "He spent most of the time telling me what people in the bar were thinking."

Ken was staring at him, baffled. Aki and Jin had gotten drinks? He supposed it wasn't all that strange. They were living together, and besides that, Aki had once said it was best to keep potential enemies close.

Aki looked thoughtful. "You know he hears it all the time? Thoughts? Can't turn it off at all. And he said the stronger his Talent gets, the more it wants to get sucked into everyone's heads. He's holding it back all the time."

That seemed tiring. But Ken was more interested in the fact that Aki was holding a casual conversation. It was thrilling to see him acting like his old self.

Six or seven months ago, when Ken was still bewildered by the difference between this world and the dark cages he'd been brought up in, he had made a careful study of all the Paris Talents, trying to figure out how they blended in with normal people. Obviously he'd never be as friendly and cheerful as Lip or Dylan, and he couldn't quite relate to Luke's gentle dignity, though he'd liked him a lot. Mark had the kind of complicated adult energy Ken wasn't ready to decipher. Kel, too, seemed a hundred years older and wiser than he was.

But he always liked the way Aki carried himself, cool and quiet, but comfortable speaking when he wanted to. In those first few weeks Ken had studied the way he sat, the way he spoke to others, the way he used his attention. Ken didn't copy him, exactly, but he definitely took more cues from him than anyone else.

Even now Ken was most comfortable in his company. Aki had a way of making silence feel like a conversation. And when Ken did speak, Aki listened with perfect interest, as if there were years of respect between them. Ken wasn't sure how to use all the words for different kinds of affection yet. But he knew he felt some big ones for Aki.

Aki went to bed after dinner, putting Ken in an even better mood. Eating, sleeping, drinking in bars—was it possible he was getting better? Not that Ken had ever doubted he would.

Ken went to his own room, and then straight into the bathroom for a shower.

Showers were great. The one in the Paris house was better, but this one was okay, too. Ken sighed contentedly as he turned his face up into the hot spray and rinsed the shampoo from his hair. He loved taking showers. Hot water was amazing. Soap was amazing, too. There wasn't much better than lathering up a sponge and scrubbing himself from head to toe until his skin was rubbery clean. And then rinsing off under the spray, turning off the water and drying off with a big, soft towel and steam billowing all over the place.

Also, he was discovering just now, bathrobes were amazing. The white robe he'd found clean and folded on the linen shelf of his bathroom was oversized. It hit his shins, and the sleeves went almost to his fingertips. It was like wearing a bed.

Ken opened the bathroom door and stopped. Jin was in his room.

Of course.

But Jin wasn't just in his room. In the ten minutes Ken had spent in the shower, Jin had made himself extraordinarily comfortable. He was dressed in snug, worn-out black jeans and a soft-looking black tee. And he was sprawled across Ken's bed on his side, surrounded by an assortment of snacks, flipping through a magazine.

"What are you doing?" Ken asked.

Jin looked up, blinking with innocent surprise. "Oh, is this your room?"

Ken crossed his arms, cautiously amused, and leaned against the doorframe.

"Damn." Jin snapped his fingers. "I'm drunker than I thought. Well," he sighed, reaching behind his ear and then holding up a long white object, "I guess I'll just have to share this joint with you."

Forgetting to play it cool for a brief moment, Ken straightened from the doorframe. He'd always wanted to try pot, but Aki and Lip had cringed at the suggestion. "When you're older," Aki had promised. "Just a couple years older." Lip had been more direct. "I don't give drugs to teenagers," he'd scoffed. "What kind of mentor would that make me?" David would have shared, if he'd ever had the nerve to ask, but he hadn't. For all his friendliness, David had always intimidated Ken.

Now he moved toward the bed. "Move," he ordered, and sat down once Jin had made room. The table at the end of the bed was covered in bags of chips, boxes of cookies, and various types of candy. "Why do you have so much food?"

"So you can eat it when you're stoned." Jin offered the joint.

"You smell like cigarettes."

"Sorry, babe. Want me to take a shower?"

Ken gave him an odd look. "Shut up." He took the joint, then the lighter.

Moments later he was coughing into his elbow amid a great cloud of smoke, and Jin was turning on the stereo.

"This your music?" Jin asked, and Ken nodded through his fit. It was David's, originally, but whatever. The telepath selected an old jazz track and turned up the volume.

"That's not fun," Ken said once the coughing subsided.

"Just wait." He passed the joint back. "Take it easy."

Ken took another hit, more gracefully this time.

"You knew Luke, huh?"

Ken glanced at him, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Why?"

"Did you like him?"

"Yeah." Of course he had. Luke had taught him everything in the beginning.

"Yeah? Was he any fun?"

Fun? Maybe not. Not like the others could be. "He was quiet," Ken said thoughtfully. "But he was funny. He was fun with Aki."

"Some people are like that, huh?" Jin mused. "Only awake some of the time. Pass me those chips."

Ken studied Jin intently for a moment as he passed the bag.

Jin met his eyes, pulling on the joint again, and grinned once he'd blown out the smoke. "Somethin' on your mind, sweet pea?"

"No." The chips were delicious. Ken frowned at one as he chewed another, taken aback by how good they were. Good, and fun to chew. Then he looked at Jin again. "Does Jackson know if you're gonna die?"

"I don't know."

"Why don't you ask?"

The telepath gave him a strange look. "Why would I wanna know that? I'm already supposed to be dead."

Crunchy. He'd never noticed how much the word sounded like the meaning. Why hadn't he noticed that? Wasn't he supposed to be incredibly smart? _Crunchy_. He pulled his attention back to Jin. "Why are you supposed to be dead?"

"I told you, KGA telepaths don't make it past twenty."

"But why?"

"They go crazy and get killed."

"So why not you?"

"Because I have Jackson."

Gross. "What's he got to do with it?"

"He's good at helping Talents with their heads. He has a way of guiding you, finding the things you need inside your mind." Jin slowly rolled his neck and fell back against the pillows. "He saved me from KGA. Strauss fucked me up when I got there, so they threw me down in the labs. Said I was unsalvageable. Jackson used me to prove he could rehabilitate me, get me to outperform any telepath. Six months later I was passing tests. Then I was in the field. Here I am, twenty-two, strongest telepath alive."

Ken searched Jin's face, intrigued. So symmetrical. Such blue eyes. No, not intrigued by his face. By the... what had they been talking about?

Oh. Jackson had helped Jin stay alive. "How did he do it?" Ken asked.

"It's a gift he has. He just knows how to teach, what to do. He's made us better and stronger. Stronger than any Talent KGA trains. He just gets it. He sits there and tells you what to think about, what to focus on. And you get better, and stronger."

Maybe there was more to Jackson Gadamer than Ken had seen.

"You ready for California?"

Ken shrugged. This was a good song. Something by Miles Davis. It sounded big and open, like the sky.

"Can we go to space?" Ken asked suddenly.

Jin's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Can I go to space if I want?"

"You mean, be an astronaut?"

"No," Ken said impatiently. "Just go to space."

"You mean like..." Jin's lips quirked, and he started to laugh. "For lunch?"

Ken found himself starting to laugh, too. Why? It wasn't that funny, was it?

"The food sucks in space," Jin said, snickering uncontrollably.

Ken worked to school his features. "It does?"

"Yeah. You ever eat a dry brick of ice cream?"

"What?" The laughter came back up, despite Ken's efforts to stop it. None of those words made sense together, and it was somehow hilarious. "Have you been there?"

Jin shook his head, laughing too hard now to speak, holding his stomach. It was contagious. Even though Ken wanted to be annoyed that he couldn't stop, he couldn't summon any irritation.

"I can't go if the food is bad," Ken decided.

"No, you should cancel that space lunch."

They started laughing again. Weed was okay, Ken decided. Not all the time, though. Not if it made him laugh like that.

He lay back on the bed beside Jin, relaxed. Did the food really suck in space? Couldn't someone do something about that? Somewhere there had to be another planet with food on it...

"Turn off the light." Jin said after a good while, yawning.

"You."

Jin obeyed, to Ken's mild surprise. It was a much bigger surprise when the telepath flopped back down on the bed and threw an arm across his stomach.

Ken stiffened, startled, and blinked in the dark at the stoned psychopath with the nerve to try and...

"Last days of vacation," Jin mumbled, his body limp and his face half buried in the pillow, hidden from Ken. "Hasn't been so bad."

What the hell? Ken looked down at the arm, following the length of it to the hand that rested limply against the side of his waist. Then he looked at Jin again. What the hell?

"You're a cool kid," Jin sighed, sounding like he was drifting off to sleep.

Ken looked at the arm again, the hand, and back to Jin, then down the length of his slim body, dark against the sheets, and back up to the wild hair. And the arm. And the hand.

Then he let his head fall back on the pillow and closed his eyes.

What the hell?

#  16. Happy Graduation, Sky

Mark wasn't in the mood to be rough tonight.

But Sky never needed to be told. Never. There were times when he purred in Mark's arms, soft and sweet. There were times when he sat on his cock and choked him hard enough to bruise. Nights when he crept in with dark games to play, triggered cravings Mark rarely even thought about, worked him with a precision that made him come so hard it blinded him.

It didn't take him long to understand what a powerful drug that Talent of Sky's was. Not just the immediate, palpable feelings Sky could elicit with it, but the way he knew what a person wanted, even when they didn't.

Still, it was a surprise when he showed up with a chessboard.

"I borrowed it from the doctor, Henry," Sky said, looking down at the box he held under one toned arm. His straight, silky hair framed his face loosely, the golden locks grazing his neck. "I see him play in the cafeteria sometimes. I thought you could teach me, if you want."

"Sure." Mark took the board from him and nodded toward the small dining table.

Sky sat across from him and watched Mark assemble the board. He'd been wearing the plain, close-fitting t-shirts provided to ARSI cadets for a while now, this one in military green, and the simple blue jeans he wore were a far cry from his usual designer pants. Of course, nothing looked common on Sky. But it was decidedly low-key for a guy who'd long been accustomed to the skinny suit pants and expensive shirts of upscale Osaka hustlers.

Mark felt a stirring of hunger, and then felt annoyed with himself for it.

Fucking Sky was amazing, and Mark did it often, but his view of this new dynamic was not simple, and not always without guilt. The fact that Sky could easily sense this, and never said anything about it, often weighed on his mind.

"Have you ever been to Johannesburg?"

Mark looked at him. Sky's elbows were on the table, hands folded loosely in front of his chin, knuckles stroking palm. "Yeah," Mark said.

"I'm going with Kel on his assignment. He asked me to come and help him find a hostage." Sky said it like it was no big deal, but there was a hint of pleasure in his voice. Something hopeful, with a trace of tentative pride.

Mark nodded. He'd already discussed it with Kel and Lip. It seemed like a big step, something that could make him feel more a part of their group. Not to mention that Kel would be a good influence on the empath. He was good at tolerating emotional excesses without indulging them. Mark knew from experience.

"You feel good about it?" he asked.

Sky nodded. "Nervous," he admitted. "But he said it's okay if I suck."

"You'll be great." He finished laying out the last pawn. "It's special, your Talent."

Sky shrugged. "I heard it's the most common at KGA."

"It's the one they _keep_ the most," Mark clarified. "It's the most versatile."

"I'd rather be a telepath."

Mark shook his head and picked up his king. "This is the most important piece."

"What does it do?"

"Well, it's the king. You have to protect him." Mark put him in the middle of the board and showed how the piece moved. "If the enemy traps your king and you can't save him, the game's over."

Sky watched the tutorial, propping his chin lightly on his hand as Mark introduced the pieces. He looked relaxed and interested. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was the same person he became around Ken, or the person he'd been before, the histrionic junkie destroying everything in his disastrously misguided efforts to be liked.

Mark went first, moving the pawn in front of his queen. "Why would you wanna be a telepath?"

Sky was quiet until he'd made his first move, his knight. "It's hard to know someone's upset with you, but not know why."

"Makes sense."

It made lot of sense, actually. In fact, now that he thought about it, empathy was a potential nightmare for someone like Sky, whose understanding of other people was limited to what he'd experienced as a yakuza plaything. With that frame of reference, how could he process the emotions of people close to him now—the frustrations of those who wanted anything other than sex or submission?

"Jin knows everything," Sky said. "All the time."

"Maybe he's the opposite of you," Mark suggested. "It might be hard to know what someone's thinking, but not know what's behind it. You can tell fear from anger, or love from obsession."

"I know. But it's no good to me." Sky said. "Like with Ken." He smiled a little as Mark's bishop took one of his pawns. "Ah."

Mark glanced at him. "Doesn't it give you an idea of when you should give someone some space, at least?"

"It might seem like that. But it..." He moved his knight, still looking for an opening. "It's hard to walk away, when...he...it feels like if I said the right thing, it would..."

"You think he wants you to say the right thing?"

"It feels like he wants something." Sky sighed and nabbed Mark's pawn.

Mark took his knight in turn, smiling at Sky's disappointment. Then he reluctantly broached the obvious topic. "Look, ARSI will be out of France by the end of the month."

Sky moved his queen forward.

"If you end up in California with Ken—"

"I won't do anything."

Mark moved his knight to the center of the board.

Sky chewed his lip for a moment before he spoke again. "Jin..."

Mark kept his eyes on the board, silently begging Sky not to go backward, not to start the same old conversation they'd done so well avoiding during all this time at ARSI.

The blond shook his head. "Ken's special."

"Special how?" Mark asked, still wary.

"He's different from everyone else." Sky frowned at the chessboard, losing focus for a moment. "Sometimes when I feel his head up close, I feel like he could kill me."

Mark raised his eyebrows. That was new.

"Not like he wants to. Just like he could. There's something..." Sky trailed off with a frown, like there was something he was afraid to reveal.

"I won't tell." Mark was glad to know that Sky would be secretive with what he knew about Ken's Talent. "Does Jin know that?"

"I don't know. I hope not. I hope not from me." Sky moved again. "I know I'm not welcome around him. But if you guys could...I know you have a lot to do..."

"We'll look out for him."

Mark was proud of him. Just a couple of months before, Sky was arguing that he was the only one qualified to care about Ken. Now it seemed like he'd finally accepted that he was the least qualified among them to influence his younger brother.

"Guess I won't see you as much." Sky lined his bishop up with Mark's king. "Check? Right?"

"Not for a while." Mark slid his rook forward and captured the bishop. "Not like now."

"I know you still can't trust me. But I'll really do better. Thanks to you."

"I haven't done much."

"You brought me here. I got to study, and talk to regular people."

Regular was a stretch, but Mark got the point. "I'm glad it's been good for you. I hoped it would be."

They were quiet for a few moments.

"Your Talent," Mark said, "is special. I hope you learn to use it, and let it teach you things. I think it could help you a lot." He paused. "I love what you do to me with it. It's a beautiful gift. But I hope that becomes just a small part of what you do, and only when you really want to."

Sky nodded, and then a smile appeared on his lips. "I want to, with you."

"I'm not complaining." Mark smiled and moved his knight one last time, cornering Sky's king. "Checkmate."

Sky's smile widened. Jesus, he was stunning, and never more so than when he was like this. His blue-gray eyes were warm and clear, his posture relaxed, and when he rose from his chair to round the table, he moved with easy confidence.

It was always good, but this time felt right in a way that was hard to define. They undressed each other at an easy pace, kissing and touching like friends who were lovers—not like fucked up Talents desperate to mute their own thoughts. Sky straddled Mark's lap and combed his fingers through his hair, moving against him slowly and soaking up his caresses. And as Mark slowly eased into him, he realized Sky was holding his empathy back.

There was something naked about him now that hadn't been there before. The intoxicating luminescence had been cleared away, leaving one extraordinarily beautiful young man whose bare throat still begged for kisses, whose body still seemed made for worship.

The clarity of it was so novel it was easily as thrilling as when Sky used his Talent to cast that drunken spell of pleasure over every touch, and Mark tried to make that fact clear by putting his own gifts to use. His lips and fingers sought every sensitive point on Sky's body, exploiting one particular stretch of neck that made the blond shiver.

"Move," Sky whispered, rocking his hips.

Mark's hands slid down to grip Sky's firm, smooth ass, lifting him slowly and easing him back down. "Fuck," he breathed at the tightness, the heat of it. "You feel amazing."

Sky's kiss was deep and insistent. "More," he begged, moaning when Mark laid him back.

So fucking sweet. Mark sucked gently at the empath's neck, lightly at his ear, as he moved slowly in and out. Sky's dick rubbed against his stomach with every push, and he reached down to stroke it.

"You want me to?" Sky breathed. There was a little furrow in his brow, a dazed and pleading look in his eyes. It was the expression of someone perfectly tormented by a slow burn of pleasure, a look that always made Mark's blood run hot.

"To what?"

"Make it..." Sky exposed his Talent for a moment, letting a trickle of that dreamlike pleasure run through Mark's senses.

"No." Mark kissed him again, and then kissed him harder, more passionately than he had done before. He let his hands move down Sky's sides, along the narrow edges of his hips and his taut thighs, squeezing with every deep thrust.

"Feel good?" Sky breathed against his lips, rolling his body slightly in time. A faint sheen of sweat made the angles of his face shimmer, and his pink lips were plump and shiny from Mark's kiss.

Mark whispered that it did, slowly building speed until he heard the needful notes he wanted to hear in Sky's voice. Then he lifted him up, holding him by the hips and fucking him in deep, expert motions that used every muscle in his body.

With little else to do in his position, Sky threw his head back and surrendered. The lines that carved the fine muscles of his torso, shoulders and arms were long and tense and his thighs were starting to tremble around Mark's hips. Between their bodies his cock stood pink and stiff, the smooth tip glistening so enticingly that Mark almost wanted to stop what he was doing to suck on it for a moment. But that would be a terrible thing to do, because Sky was about to come. He reached down to stroke it instead.

Mark watched that perfect face become contorted with the delicious agony of the final moments before a shudder went through the empath's body and his cries filled the room. If the clenching of his ass wouldn't have been enough to spark Mark's own release, the feeling of Sky's come hitting his chest and the pearly stripes dripping down over his own skin was. Mark gasped sharply and let out a rough cry as it took over his body, thundering through his stomach and thighs and hips and cock in satisfying waves until he felt good and emptied.

Sky was limp and sliding in his arms, and Mark carefully pulled out and laid him down on the bed. The empath's cheeks were flushed, his pulse still pounding, and his eyes were closed. When Mark lay beside him Sky turned to lay a hand on his chest, and they slept.

#

#  17. City of Angels

Jin pulled himself up out of the pool, climbed onto the slate terrace, and shook his hair out. The sun was exquisitely warm and bright on the lawn of the sleek midcentury modern home Jackson had rented in the Pacific Palisades, and at night the Los Angeles skyline would glitter in the distance below it like a field of diamonds. Jin loved Los Angeles.

The house was all California, with cool, swanky furniture, an open floor plan, and window walls connecting most rooms to the outdoors. An office space opened to a Zen-style garden near the edge of the pool, and Jackson was sitting at the desk, speaking into a cell phone with a cold expression.

And did he look fucking _good_. Dressed casually—by his standards—in a cool gray button-down and crisp chinos, his brown hair parted to the side and combed loosely back, he looked like a hotter version of Marlon Brando.

In the next section of the house, to Jackson's left, Rinzen was sitting on a sofa and putting his Talent to use by telekinetically plucking the dead blossoms off of some flowery tree on the lawn. The Tibetan boy had a few books beside him, all closed, and he looked quite content to be bored.

_You look like you need something better to do_ , Jin sent his way. Rin didn't look at him—part of his training was learning not to look at his targets before striking—and the next flower to leave the tree shot across the lawn and jammed itself into Jin's hair.

Jin smiled and swatted the wilted blossom aside. _Shithead_. It was good to see the little fucker. It was good to see all of them.

He could hear Giovanni tinkering away on a bike in the garage. The empath was casually exploring the surrounding homes with his Talent, sifting through the neighbors' feelings for something that could entertain him later. When Vanni couldn't sleep, he liked to fuck with people who had anger problems and see how much violence he could stir up. Jackson had given up trying to teach him to meditate.

Together again. Jin sighed contentedly, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his minimal Armani swim trunks and snapping them lightly before heading inside.

Glancing behind him to make sure he left a nice trail of wet footprints on the dark hardwood, Jin meandered behind Rinzen and playfully shoved his head forward on his way to the office. Then, rounding the boss's desk to stand before him, he lifted his arms and pulled his body into a long, full stretch.

Jackson looked blankly up at him, listening to whoever was on the other end of the phone.

"Yes," he said. "Without his usual security detail."

Jin sighed deeply. He was still dripping wet, and he wondered how Jackson would stop him if he tried to slide into his lap and get that nice gray shirt a little damp. When he looked up from Jackson's chest, where he was trying to find all the edges of muscle beneath the fabric, the man was glaring at him in warning.

Stupid precognitives. Fine. Jin decided to go a more passive route, sliding one hand from his hip to his crotch and giving his dick a nice grope through his trunks.

"Yes," Jackson said into the phone, his eyes following Jin's hand. "It is a surprising proclivity for a man of his stature. We always knew it would be useful to us at some point."

"Pro-cli-vi-ty," Jin mouthed with pleasure, stroking himself lazily. Big dumb businessmen never had their priorities straight. It wasn't like Jackson couldn't talk on the phone and fool around at the same time. Jin knew for a fact that he could.

"Yes. A pleasure." Jackson said, and paused once more before bidding the other person goodbye and hanging up. He then leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on the arms and raising his eyebrows at Jin.

"How long you gonna make me wait?" Jin asked, already half-stiff. His abs were getting tight like they always did when Jackson looked at him steadily like that.

"Did you think the point of coming to California was to fuck you between every meal and phone call?"

Prick. Jin scowled and let go of his dick. After a moment's consideration, he reached out and took Jackson's fresh cup of coffee. Pivoting towards the open window-wall, he slowly poured the mug out onto the slate stepping stones leading into the garden. Then he hurled it across the lawn and into the pool, where it landed with a watery plunk.

"No," Jin said, brushing imaginary dust from his hands. "I have other things to do in California."

Like nap. With a dramatic sniff, he padded off toward the bedroom upstairs and sprawled out on his stomach on the large white bed.

Fuck Los Angeles.

What good was a reunion when Jackson wouldn't give him the time of day? Shit, he'd forgotten what a glacial jerk-off the man could be. No wonder he'd been able to weather Ken's personality so well. He was used to secretive Talents who considered him a nuisance.

Ken was more fun, obviously. Except Ken was avoiding him now. Not avoiding him like before, but actually effectively avoiding him since the moment they'd parted ways after landing in Los Angeles a week ago. And he was doing it just to be a prick, it seemed like. Just to be a prick because Jin was back with Jackson and the gang.

What a pain in the ass. All that trouble to get on Ken's good side, just to be tossed aside in California.

He'd come back around, Jin was sure, once he got bored of hanging out with Aki. For some fucking reason Ken was all about Aki, Aki, Aki. Watching movies with Aki, walking around with Aki, getting American culture lessons from Aki—what a sick joke. What the hell did Ken get out of hanging out with boring, sullen Aki?

Fuckers. Now they were all ruining his naptime. Jin grumbled into his pillow, squirming to find the most comfortable position possible.

But dammit, it was hard to stop thinking about Ken once he got started. Fuck if he knew why. It was like some kind of freaky hypnosis. How could it have been so long since he'd gotten a close look at that bone-china face, those mismatched green eyes, that inky hair? How long could Ken avoid him? Shit, it pissed him off that the little bastard could just cut him off like that. He wanted to get a grip on those bony shoulders and shake them until he got a reaction out of him.

The door to the bedroom opened.

Finally. Jin managed to put all thoughts of Ken aside for a moment as he felt the bed sink under Jackson's weight beside him.

"I don't have time for distractions now," Jackson murmured, running his fingertips down the length of Jin's naked back and slipping them under the waist of his trunks. "Not even the ones I like."

"Just a little more," Jin purred, arching under the touch and turning his head to look up at Jackson. "Till I forget the starving pains."

Jackson caught his chin and bent down to take his lips in a heated kiss.

"Starving pains?" the precognitive whispered. "Don't try to tell me you went hungry all that time."

He took Jin's shoulder and turned him over onto his back, pinning his wrist to the bed and kissing him harder.

"I won't tell you anything," Jin breathed against his lips, reaching up with his free hand to get Jackson's shirt open. He groaned when the other man reached into his trunks.

"You don't have to," Jackson replied, and Mark's image flashed between their minds. Of course Jackson knew he'd messed around with some of the Paris Talents. What else would he expect?

Jin bit down on Jackson's lower lip, rocking into his hand. "So, what? You—"

Jackson cut him off with a bruising kiss, letting go of Jin's wrist to grip the back of neck.

_Fuck me_ , Jin projected telepathically, grabbing handfuls of Jackson's back, searching for his favorite grip in the familiar ridges of muscle.

Jackson's cell phone rang. Jin dug his fingers in harder, though it was never any use. Jackson pulled away at once, and like magic he was standing up at the foot of the bed and adjusting himself as he answered the call. " _Sì_."

Jin glared at him, shoulders heaving, and watched him leave the room. Cock-teasing, nap-ruining son of a bitch.

#  18. New Tombs for Talents

Aki looked around as Lip parked the car in front of a cluster of modern glass buildings off the freeway.

"This looks like a hospital," he said.

"It's multi-use. There was a technical school renting that one over there, offices over there, condos on top of all of them. It could work out. State-of-the-art gym in that one."

They got out of the car.

"I guess it makes sense for training," Aki said after a moment. "But it doesn't seem secure."

"The overhaul would be massive," Lip agreed. The Australian looked laid-back today, dressed in a Metallica tee, jeans and black sneakers. His short blond hair was a little messy. It looked good on him.

They stopped not far from the car, studying the scene. Aki looked around for another moment, and then shook his head. "No. It's not gonna work."

"You don't wanna check it out?"

"No."

"All right."

They got back into the car and started off toward the next property they hoped would have the potential to house ARSI. That made two they'd rejected, and Aki was already out of patience. It was hard to take such a big step backward when they'd gotten used to what they'd built in Europe. There, ARSI had matured into a smoothly running machine with state of the art facilities and military-grade security. That had taken several years and billions of dollars. But when KGA chased them off the continent, it wasn't like they could sell the place at a profit. Nobody doubted the move was necessary, but it was a huge blow.

Now they needed a new, stable location. The temporary situation they'd devised in California had them all uncomfortable already. For the agents in training, it was fine. For the researchers, it was a break from routine. But for the Talents it was a security nightmare.

Aki was in the biggest hurry to make a permanent transition. His responsibility to David and Luke hadn't ended with their passing, after all. The twins' bodies were intact, and they needed to be safe and close. There had been no argument when Aki insisted that they be brought to California straight away—who would ask him to leave them in France?—though he wasn't pleased that Jen had come, too.

Of course he knew how important it was to keep her, especially her, under lock and key. They still didn't know how to know whether Talents were dead forever or not. Talents _did_ die and stay dead—they knew from the intelligence they'd collected from KGA. But in their own experience, they didn't always stay dead. Jen had brought Mark back to life. Luke had brought David back to life.

Lip theorized that the feat required a specific combination of empathic stimulation, healing abilities, and mental strength, and that it depended on the Talent. But nothing was certain. And Jen was so strong, who knew? What would they do if she came back to life now, without anyone there to respond?

Obviously it was best to keep her close. But Aki still hated the set-up in California, the three of them in the same dark, sterile room, all together because—and Mark had made Lip deliver this message, sensibly—they couldn't justify the expense of building another suitable room just to satisfy Aki's principles.

The point was, the sooner he could get them out of their hiding place in that shuttered clinic and into a place with decent security, the better.

"We're gonna build this thing," Lip sighed mildly. "I can feel it. You wanna bet?"

"Yeah." Aki frowned at the road. "Why would we do it any other way?"

"Money. And, you know, it has potential advantages. But money. That's why."

That was the third time Aki had heard about money today, and he was triply disturbed by it.

"How strapped are we?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"We're okay, depending how you look at it. We can live. We can cover it. We turn a profit. It's just a big fuckin' expense, building what we want from the ground up. Getting resettled. Installing security. Doubling down on everything and shoring up funds, with all this KGA fuckin' whatever. And with all the work, we can't exactly pick up more contracts at the same time."

Aki considered that. It was weird to think about what Lip, Mark and Kel did for all the ARSI money. They risked their lives running errands for the elite. Yeah, they were Talents, and Lip and Mark called corporate espionage "nap time"—it was that safe and dull, they claimed—but they were still sneaking under the top security systems in the world, even dodging military units in some cases as they stole and sabotaged for top-paying clients.

Lip had told him earlier how disgusted he was over the bigger contracts they'd been taking. They'd just been offered a billion from a big-name financial firm that wanted them to destroy a popular progressive senator with presidential prospects. Lip wanted to destroy the firm instead. They still hadn't confirmed the deal. But a billion was a lot, and a lot was what they needed.

David would have killed them for taking that job. He was always funny like that. If he hadn't been a fucked up Talent, he would have been a great revolutionary, a real man of the people...

"I could work," Aki said, and saw Lip glance at him in surprise.

"Well," Lip said slowly. "I guess you could." He considered for a moment. "Would you want to?"

Aki paused. He'd considered it before, but now that he'd said it aloud, it made a lot of sense. "Yeah," he said at last. "I want to."

"Hmm." Lip turned on the radio. In a moment he said, "Could be good for you."

"I need to do something," Aki muttered in agreement.

"That's true, hey?" Lip changed the station. "You think you're up for it?"

"I've done it before."

"Yeah. But the circumstances are slightly different, I think," Lip said wryly. "I mean, are you right in the head?"

Only Lip could get away with a question like that.

"So give me something easy," Aki sighed, knowing it was a reasonable concern. They'd be idiots not to be cautious of his mental state. He'd made more progress than he'd hoped to, but he wasn't back to form yet. Aki changed the subject. "How's Sky?"

"He's all right," Lip said. "I'm impressed. It was a good move, taking him to ARSI."

"Still on with Mark?"

"Far as I can tell. Guess it's..." He snorted and shook his head. "I don't know. Inevitable. Whatever. They keep each other busy. Got Mark to stop staking out Jen's crypt."

Aki watched the trees go by, wondering if anyone really believed Mark had never sneaked into that room, opened up the metal coffin and taken a look at her. Surely he was capable of it. By all accounts he was the best spy out of all of them.

The prospect would be tempting. He understood that well enough. How many times had he dreamed of getting one more look at Luke's face?

Aki shrugged. "I know how he feels."

The blond glanced at him. "Yeah?"

"I think about it all the time. Going to look at Luke."

"You think you'd get something out of it?"

Aki shook his head. It was a strange part of him that craved it. There was a vague, lonely thought that drifted around his mind sometimes. The thought that if he opened up Luke's crypt and sat with him for a while, stroked his cold face and counted his eyelashes, whispered in his ear like Ken had done for him, Luke would wake up rested and ready to start over.

"I'd just want him to wake up," he confessed quietly.

"Yeah." Lip seemed to look for something more to say, but he gave up and shook his head.

That was nice, him not saying anything. Better than saying something stupid, or something that had already been said enough. There was no more to say. He was glad Lip got that.

Aki leaned back against his seat and sighed, but it wasn't a tired and miserable sigh. He felt quietly relieved. It was nice to be alone with an adult who knew all that had happened and wasn't full of shit. Lip was always that person, it seemed.

"You're a good friend," Aki said simply.

Lip gave him a smile and lightly chucked his shoulder. Then he pointed ahead at a road leading off the highway before he took the turn. "Here we go."

The road was sparsely wooded, and what few small homes they passed trailed off after a couple of minutes.

Aki's mind went back to Luke's body in its cool metal container. Did he look like he was sleeping? Did he look cold? He had avoided asking these questions for a long time, knowing Kel and Lip were investigating the matter just fine, and knowing he'd dwell on the answers more than he wanted to. But he felt somewhat more comfortable with the topic now.

"Do they look alive?" he asked.

If Lip was surprised by the question, he didn't show it. "Yeah. They look alive, like they're sleeping. A little pale."

"Does the blood pool?"

"No. We don't understand that yet. The heart doesn't beat. Life functions stop. Under a microscope the cells seem frozen in place. There's no precedent for it." He frowned before reluctantly adding, "Fact is, we don't understand what happens inside. There's some resistance, to..."

"Cutting them open?"

"Anything invasive."

"In case they wake up?"

"I don't know. Maybe. We examine Jen closely, regularly. We've used ultrasounds. But that's as far as it goes."

"You do? You go in and look at her and stuff? That must piss Mark off."

"Mark understands." Lip paused. "Most of the time." He seemed to consider something for a moment. "How much does it bother you? His relationship with her?"

"It doesn't bother me. It's his problem."

"Really? He thinks it bothers you."

"I don't care. I didn't know her. You loved her, too. I try to assume the person you knew back then wasn't the person who killed Luke." Aki stopped awkwardly, realizing he didn't have as much to say as he'd expected. He wasn't as mad as he was supposed to be. He looked at Lip. "You don't hate her, do you?"

"No." The road turned to gravel, and he raised his eyebrows. "Private road crumbles off in the middle of nowhere. That's promising, hey?"

Aki smiled, remembering something funny. "Ken didn't know it was Kel's idea to move. He thought you guys did it because Jin said Jackson wanted you to."

Lip laughed incredulously. "Why would he think that?"

"I guess nobody talked to him about it. It just slipped by. And he talks to Jin a lot."

"Well, that doesn't worry me in the slightest," Lip said sarcastically, slowing down. "Here we go."

Aki got out of the car and looked around. It was a well-forested spread of land, generously dotted with little hills and shaded by tall firs and broad-leafed trees.

"This is good," he said with surprise. "Isn't it?"

"It looks good," Lip agreed. "Put some bunkers in these hills, throw up a few residential type structures..."

"And we build underground, too?"

"Definitely."

Aki looked up. "We have to cut down all these trees?"

"Not all of them. Better off blending in."

They set to hiking the property, checking out the perimeters. It was well isolated from any signs of civilization, and Aki started feeling more cheerful. It was nice to have something actually go right.

"How much time does he spend with Jin?" Lip asked.

Aki thought it over. They hadn't interacted much since they'd come to California. But before that, he guessed they were together at least several hours a week, that he knew of. It wasn't like they made dates. Jin was just always there.

"Jin sleeps in his room," he summed up.

Lip turned to look straight at Aki, his mouth falling open. "He...you mean they're only apart when Jin goes home to sleep?"

"No. He sleeps in Ken's."

"Every night?'

"No. Just a couple of times."

Lip looked astonished, then indignant, and then confused. "What..."

Aki shrugged. "I don't care if Ken doesn't." The ground was damp and soft, covered in pine needles. He crouched to pick up a twig and scratch it through the leaves and soil.

"Are they..."

"No." He looked up at Lip, raising an eyebrow. "Not yet."

"Well..." Lip looked flabbergasted. "Ken's too young for him."

"He's probably eighteen. How long did you wait?" If anyone else tried nosing into Ken's sex life, Aki would have their head. But Lip was okay. He was smart and clearheaded and he meant well. "Anyway, Ken only does what he wants."

"Sleeping in his room!" Lip muttered, more astonished than anything else.

Aki nodded. It had surprised him, too, but not that much. Jin was charming, and he pestered Ken the right way. Besides... "Ken likes him."

"I know," Lip admitted. "I knew from the start. There's something about those two, that..." he shook his head. "Anyway, fine, but he needs to spend more time with us."

Aki shrugged. "You're busy and I'm not fun."

Lip grimaced and turned to look around at the trees, stretching his arms up high and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Well, he needs some other friends, then."

Aki snorted again. "Okay."

"Well it's not right." Lip shook his head. "I like Jin. But Ken can't just get all his socializing from...a fuckin' Gadamer telepath."

"I agree."

"He'll end up all fucked up. We have to do something."

"What, Lip? Get him a pen pal?"

Lip looked at Aki again, frowning.

Aki sighed and dropped the twig, rising to his feet again. "I keep thinking David would have been good for him. All of them, Luke and Dylan, too. But David especially."

David especially. David had kept his distance from Ken in some ways. It was understandable, considering how much of himself he'd burned up trying to keep a certain other pale, dark-haired waif afloat.

But he'd been interested in the kid. He'd given him presents. David had done a lot behind the scenes, actually. Picking up groceries he thought Ken would like, quietly stocking the house with books, exposing him to music.

David would have liked him now. He'd have liked Ken's biting sarcasm. And teaching him things, taking him out of the house, introducing him to people, bringing him to parties. David did more normal things than any of them. He was popular with people in the real world, kind of like Lip and Mark had once been before they started living like paranoid ex-soldiers.

"But they're dead," Aki said, like it didn't go without saying.

"Yeah." Lip put his hands in his pockets. "I want him to spend some time with normal people. People who aren't Talents."

"He gets out a lot," Aki said. "I know what you mean, but don't think he's just lurking around the house all day. He runs around the city, goes to coffee shops and watches people in parks. I don't even know all of what he gets up to. But he's a curious kid. He's doing okay."

Lip nodded, seeming a little reassured. "Good."

#  19. Ken Meets Girl

The bathroom was damp and steamy, pale gold in the morning light. Water swished in the big corner bathtub, a huge porcelain basin now densely beaded with tiny drops of moisture. Thin swaths of steam rose from it, and from the naked body inside, which was firm and muscled and had a warm healthy glow. Long, sinewy arms draped over the edge of the tub, one glistening knee above the water's surface, smooth and soft. And Jin's face, his white teeth gleaming, his blue eyes drowsy and sly.

"C'mere," Jin said.

The sheets hit his fevered back, cool and smooth. He was naked. Sitting up on his elbows he saw Jin, dressed in a dark cotton robe like the ones Aki sometimes wore from Japan, coming toward the foot of the bed.

_What are you doing,_ he wanted to ask, but his throat was too dry and weak. He looked up at the telepath standing over him, his heart pounding.

"Look at you," Jin said, his eyes dropping to Ken's groin.

Ken didn't look down. He could feel it. His cheeks burned. Then he saw Jin pull the knife from the fold of his robe, a curved silver blade that made a sharp sound against the air in the room. It was a vicious-looking weapon, designed to kill with precision.

Jin tossed the knife aside blithely. It rang like a little bell when it hit the floor.

"Yes," Ken whispered, and started to sit up.

\- - -

Ken blinked groggily for one confusing moment. The sun was streaming into his room and his phone was ringing. He turned and groped around in the sheets for it before finding it on the nightstand. "Hello," he answered roughly without looking.

There was a tiny pause before the familiar voice rang over the line, "Hey, sleeping beauty."

Jin.

"Can't you leave me alone for one fucking second?" Ken snapped, and hung up the phone. He didn't mean to toss it on the floor. It just happened. Fuck.

His phone rang again. He barely refrained from kicking it on his way to the shower, bending down to scoop it up and silence it and throw it onto the bed. He didn't care who it was.

The shower was too hot. His body felt hot lately. Or cold. One or the other, it was never right. Everything was too hot or too cold. Dammit.

California was okay, though. Los Angeles was okay.

It hadn't taken long to figure out how to dress to blend in with the locals. In France he'd worn dark slacks and sweaters, but it was more casual here. He put on black sneakers, a pair of jeans, a dark blue tee shirt, and a gray hoodie and headed out the door.

An hour later he was at the shore, standing at the end of the pier with his arms hung over the railing, staring down into the dark water and looking up every now and then at the horizon. He couldn't get over the size of it. It didn't look like much from here, but he knew how much of the planet it covered, and the space it took up. All the space underwater, full of things alive.

A group of people was approaching, laughing loudly. They sounded young.

"Is that a cop?" one asked, sparking another gale of laughter.

"Yeah, that's a cop. Go take care of it, Joey."

"Take care of it?"

The next words were drowned out by more laughter and chattering. The group stopped several yards from him. He counted the voices. There were six, he thought, if all of them were talking.

Ken sneaked a look back at them. There were, in fact, six of them, and he was startled to find two—a boy with a skateboard and a girl with long hair—staring at him. The girl looked away quickly, but the boy just grinned.

"Hey," the boy said. "You're not a cop, are you?"

What happened next was unexpected. When he shook his head, the boy ambled quickly toward him. Another guy from the group called for the boy to wait, but he was already at Ken's side, grinning and leaning against the railing very close to him.

"What's your name?" the boy asked. He had extremely large pupils. "I'm Joey."

"Joey!" The friend caught up, grabbing Joey by the shoulders and pulling him close. He looked at Ken, slightly apologetic but mostly entertained. He smelled like alcohol. "Sorry," he said. "My friend's not himself."

"Come smoke with us!" Joey reached out and grabbed Ken's arm with both hands.

"Joey!" the friend pulled his arms back. Ken realized the boy Joey was acting particularly odd. His eyes were wide and he was grinning at everything, his head turning frequently in every possible direction. His movements were loose and sweeping.

Ken watched Joey's friend try to pry him from the railing and decided to try talking to them.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked curiously.

"He's just rolling."

Ken had no idea what that meant.

"You like molly?" Joey asked, lunging close to Ken and grabbing the front of his shirt. His eyes were wide and eager.

"Jesus," the friend grumbled, pulling Joey back again. "Stop being a douche."

The girl who had been looking at Ken before was approaching them now. "I'm so sorry. Just ignore him."

Ken shook his head, taken aback. "It's okay," he made himself say, because he wanted to speak to her.

The breeze was lifting little strands of her long hair, sweeping them gently over her throat and her naked shoulders. She was wearing a loose, airy tank top that only fell to her navel, and a black skirt resting just low enough to show a stripe of skin.

The rest of the group had slowly gathered at the end of the pier, following Joey and the other two.

"You just out by yourself?" the girl asked Ken, and when he nodded she said, "Cool."

She turned to her right as one of the others passed her a pipe and a lighter. She murmured thanks and took a hit from the pipe. Then, gently blowing smoke from her pillowy lips, she offered it to him.

It was always mildly surprising to see who did drugs and who didn't. He could never tell. He accepted the pipe, meaning to thank her but instead only gazing into her dark eyes. She smiled, her expression becoming smoother and lazier with the smoke, and asked his name.

"Ken."

"I'm Lupe."

It wasn't hard for her to convince him to come along as they moved to the other girl's apartment. More people were gathering there, arriving in small groups and pairs. The place looked like a magazine, with a balcony overlooking the ocean, and Ken wonder how the hell he had ended up there.

And how Lupe had wound up pressed against his side in a huge round chair that was shaped like a tilted bowl. It was impossible for them to share the concave seat without fitting their bodies together, and so she had one bare leg draped over his thigh, her arms curled loosely against his chest, her head nearly resting on his shoulder. It was so close he could smell the faint floral fragrance of her hair.

This was the last thing he'd expected. And he'd hardly said a word except to accept a beer from Maya, the girl who lived there. The taste was bland, but not unpleasant, and he drank it to pretend he wasn't confused by any of this at all.

"How old are you?" Lupe's breath touched his neck.

"Twenty," he said, because why not? "How old are you?" Talking to her actually wasn't that hard. He just answered questions, and then asked them back.

"Nineteen." She smiled slowly, a big, lazy smile. Her eyelashes were so long and thick he saw them out of the corner of his eye. Then she told him she wanted to go to the terrace.

They sat together in the dark on a bench flanked by large potted plants, and she leaned against him with her body turned so that one of her soft breasts was pressed against his arm. She asked him about music, and to his surprise she knew the bands he named, and he knew the bands she named. That was David's doing—he'd been the one to introduce him to music, passing along the iPod Ken still used.

Then Lupe said she was cold. It was very warm, he thought, but temperatures had been weird for him lately, so what did he know? He asked if she wanted to go inside.

"No," she laughed, and lifted up his arm to wrap it around her shoulders.

She just kept getting closer as they talked. Her breath touched his neck. Her lips touched his ear. And then she gently turned his head, stopped talking, and kissed him.

Her lips were moist and soft against his, and he had no idea what to do, but he tried. She moved her hand through his hair, a softly electric sensation, and he pressed his lips against hers as she'd done, kissing her bottom lip, her top lip, and not knowing what to do next he pulled back just a fraction, hoping she would take over. She did. And her hand moved up his thigh, squeezing.

He started to get the hang of it, or at least he thought so. It didn't matter. He finally got to touch her long, incredibly silky hair, and her smooth shoulders, which was all he'd thought of doing in the first place. But while he was at it, yeah, the kissing was starting to make sense.

At least, until she reached down to the front of his jeans. Caught off guard, he stopped kissing her and reached down to stop her hand.

"You have a girlfriend?" she whispered.

Shit. What should he say? He shook his head, at a loss.

"Good," she smiled, and kissed him again. A moment later she was straddling his lap, her skirt riding up her thighs.

Jesus. Was _this_ what people did? Was _this_ how it happened? Strangers just met and did it? Or was it just a California thing? Had she noticed his scars? What was he supposed to do?

"Do you have a condom?" she whispered against his lips.

Ken shook his head. It had, in fact, never occurred to him until that exact moment that he would ever need to have a condom. He felt kind of floored by this development in his life, and that was before he realized what he was actually being invited to _do_ with a condom, and that really blew his mind.

"Let's go to Maya's room." She climbed off of his lap, straightened her skirt, and pulled him by the hand toward a set of sliding glass doors that led to an empty bedroom, lit only by a small lamp on a desk. The door to the rest of the apartment was open, and she went straight over to close it and lock it, then moved to a speaker in the corner and fiddled with it for a moment.

Ken stood uncertainly inside the sliding door as music started to play, watching her move around confidently. He wondered what she was thinking.

"You're so quiet." Lupe said, coming toward him again.

Soon he was falling on top of her. He almost pulled away, nervous of scaring her, but she gripped him tightly and wrapped her legs around his hips. She was moving under him, rubbing against him, and then she went for his zipper again

His heart was pounding. No one had touched him there since Luke had worked on his scars. And Luke had been the only one since back in the dungeon. He remembered the last time there very clearly. Pumped full of drugs, torn at by hard, rough, calloused hands, the sweat and the spit and...

He shook his head slightly and turned his face into her hair, breathing in the soft floral scent. Her hand was slim and soft and warm. For all her confidence she was touching him in a sort of shy way, and he liked it. Unable to resist his curiosity any longer, he slid his hand beneath her shirt and gently cupped her breast.

_Oh._ He wasn't prepared for how that felt. The weight of it when he lifted it in his palm, the softness and firmness, and the soft peak in the center—he exhaled, circling her nipple with his thumb, and when the skin tightened and she made a little noise against his lips, it aroused him in a way he'd never felt before.

At her urging he pushed her shirt up and leaned down to wrap his lips around it, careful to be gentle, not wanting to scare her, because he knew how scary it was to have a stranger's teeth near the most sensitive and vulnerable parts of the body. But she didn't seem worried about it at all. In fact, she gave a long moan when he sucked the hard tip between his lips and moved his tongue against it.

Her shirt came off, and her skirt. Her pale blue underwear looked sweet and delicate against her tan skin, and then they were gone, too. Her body was beautiful. He kissed her stomach just above her navel. He kissed the smooth knob of her hipbone. He touched the patch of hair between her legs, small and neat, and he delicately touched the plump, pink folds peeking out below, fingering them gently until his fingertip slipped between them and felt warm moisture and the smell of it was so intriguing that he had to kiss her there, too.

"Oh my god," she murmured, and then gasped. " _Oh_ , my _god_." She spread her legs farther apart, and her fingers went into his hair again.

It was so soft and warm and sweet it made him dizzy. Girls! So this was a girl—a woman—whatever. _Girls_! It was like the first time he'd slept in a bed, the first time he'd eaten real food. She was so safe, so comfortable. And he was doing something right, somehow, moving his tongue against one place that seemed to make her happy, until she was actually telling him, out loud, not to stop. And after a while her thighs were shaking, and finally her body pulled itself into a taut curl and the hot, silky flesh between her legs pulsed and dripped against his lips.

Ken lifted his head, slightly dazed, his fingers still slowly stroking her inside as she trembled and moaned.

"Get a condom," she whispered breathlessly, pulling at his shirt. "In the nightstand. There must be some."

He let the shirt come off, nervous again, but got up and went to the nightstand, which held nothing _but_ condoms. He blinked down at the assortment for a moment before grabbing the simplest-looking choice. Then she grabbed his hips and pulled him back onto the bed, making short work of his pants and his shorts.

He pressed the packet in her hand—he didn't know what to do with it—and watched her put it on, sort of unsettled by the sight of his body like this, how long and stiff he had gotten, and the sight of her touching him. But then she pushed him back and straddled him, reaching down to guide him in.

Ken's eyes closed, and he took a deep breath.

God, that felt good.

Lupe started to move, and he opened his eyes to look up at her. She looked awesome. He couldn't believe it when he heard himself moan, but she was moving on him and each movement was pulling hot, intense sensations from his hips.

Despite the pleasure, nervousness crept along the edges, distracting him. He felt exposed. His whole chest, his legs, all of him was naked and bare to the room except for where she straddled him. An uncomfortable memory threatened the corner of his mind, something grotesquely similar to this.

Ken held her hips and sat up, gently flipping her onto her back. Much better. With his face in her hair and her arms wrapped around him, his nerves settled down instantly. Now the pleasure rose without anything to stop it, and she was grabbing his shoulders and urging him on and telling him to come, come, come, and...

It wasn't as big as he expected. He didn't yell or anything, but he gasped as his cock pulsed and filled the condom. It felt good, like a big wave washing all the tension from his body, making him forget everything but the sensation.

It was comfortable holding her in his arms, feeling the soft pounding of her heart through her breast, brushing his lips against her temple where the fine tendrils of hair were damp with sweat. He'd never held someone like this before, warm and naked and relaxed.

It was nice, but after a few minutes he gently pulled away to remove the condom.

Then things got ordinary pretty fast. Now he was just naked and disheveled in a stranger's room. He spotted his pants and shorts in a pool on the floor and stepped into them, feeling a lot better when they were back on his hips.

Lupe was propped up on her elbows, watching him with a strange expression on her face. He looked back at her, lost for words.

"I wasn't expecting that," she said.

"What?"

"For that to be so good."

He searched for a reply.

"Oh," he said finally. "I wasn't expecting it at all."

She smiled her lazy smile. She hadn't moved to put on her clothes, and the dim light from the lamp gave the entire bare length of her body a fascinating sheen. He returned to the bed and sat on the edge, turned to face her. His shirt was bunched up beside her, and he reached for it and put it on.

She sat up behind him and draped her arms over his shoulders, kissing his cheek. "Why don't you have a girlfriend?"

"I'm weird." Ken smiled a little. "I guess."

She smiled back.

#  20. Mark Gets the Message

Mark walked down the hall slowly, wearing the same subtle frown he'd been wearing for days as ARSI intensified its preparations for leaving Europe.

Now that Wilhelm Strauss had taken control of KGA, the organization's reach was expanding aggressively.

It wasn't easy getting intelligence on KGA's activities, but Kel was spectacular with challenges like that. They'd learned enough to know that Strauss was diverting KGA Talents and resources away from profitable contracts and focusing on hunting for fresh recruits. Moreover, now that Jackson had followed Jin's lead and broken away, Strauss was obsessed with finding them. Europe and Northern Africa were now crawling with KGA psychics. It just didn't make sense to keep ARSI headquarters in France anymore.

It had seemed so big when they'd started. All the staff they'd poached, all the programs they'd started—it was a solid foundation. And he knew not to depend on anything. But he hadn't really thought ahead to how he'd feel when something like the KGA coup rose up and swept all this work away.

Not that it was gone. Just...

He sighed, wishing he could sneak off to some dark corner of some dark bar and fuck some dark woman. That would give him a break from these dark thoughts of defeat.

Fuck KGA. Just fuck them. Fuck Wilhelm Strauss and his army of brainwashed killer Talents. Fuck his grand plans. Fuck him for being strong enough to make them run.

Mark wandered outside. A pair of cadets greeted him respectfully as they passed, and he made his way across the lawn toward the swimming pool.

He remembered meeting Jen fifteen years before, when she and Lip were first drafted into the private academy owned by the paramilitary organization that supposedly engineered their Talent. It was surreal to think of how young they'd all been—just teenagers, foster kids—and how easily they'd been bought with the excitement, the sense of power. It was the bond between them that really tied them to the place. They loved training together, insatiably hungry for every intense physical challenge the academy could throw at them under the guise of building character.

They knew they were different. Special. It was like everything they tried, they accomplished at an Olympic level. They were just so fucking fast and strong, all three of them. And when the higher-ups came calling on them to enter special training for covert operations, they all jumped at the chance. Kel was brought in soon after, and the four of them were inseparable.

And the money. It wasn't KGA. They got paid. They got paid a lot. And then Lip invested it, and started stashing it around the globe, and they were rich on top of it all.

God, things had been good. It was a solid four years, maybe, of just _good_.

Jen was the birth of his universe. They were seventeen when they met. She found him in the gym, said she'd seen him training, wanted to spar. She'd almost kicked his ass. Probably would have, if she'd wanted to. But she wanted something even better.

They had fucked like gods. Like _gods_. The first time, and every time after, it felt like they could split the earth in half when they came.

Looking back, he could connect the intensity between them to the destruction later. They just weren't normal together. It was like two stars smashing together and then sucking in everything that came close. They were fucking psychotic, but God it was good, and he loved her, and she loved him, and it was fine.

Until it wasn't.

ARSI had a great pool. He liked it at night, quiet and dark except for the underwater lights. After a few minutes in the locker room to change, he dived into the water and started to swim as fast as he could.

They'd survived so much, and they'd carved out this spot, and they'd learned to hide from KGA, keep an eye out, and stay under the radar without living like refugees. And now they were on the fucking run because some fanatical villain had seized power.

Mark swam as hard as he could, desperate to tire himself and satisfy the agonizing restlessness of his physical Talent. Did Jin ever feel this way? Probably not. If a telepath craved thoughts like a physical Talent craved action, all Jin had to do was get on a crowded bus or something, right? Not so for Mark, who went days and weeks sometimes carrying a load of energy he couldn't find a way to burn...

He sensed Kel's presence, and surfaced after his last lap, delighted to feel his body buzzing from the exertion. Kel was standing in the shadows near the entrance, and he approached when Mark stopped swimming.

"Race?" Mark asked hopefully. Kel had been a champion swimmer in Senegal, and almost always won. A race with him was exactly what Mark needed. He smiled when Kel headed for the locker room to change.

Kel won, and Mark felt considerably better. They leaned side by side on the edge of the pool, and Mark had a moment to appreciate that he still had Kel, and he still had Lip, and it was easy to believe he always would.

The problem was leaving Jen out of that equation, when she was just as much a part of them as...

"I just talked to Lip," Kel said, interrupting his thoughts. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes. The sheen of water on his neck caught the pool lights and made his dark skin shimmer. "Sky's headed for California."

"Had to happen eventually."

"Yeah. But if he starts up with Ken again, Lip might lose it."

Lip never lost it. It was probably beside the point, but still. "So, we keep Sky busy. There's plenty of work to go around."

"That's not going to work anymore. Not with Jackson in the picture. The closer we get to Jin's team, the less willing Sky will be to keep away from Ken."

"Who says we're getting close to Jin's team?"

Kel fixed him with a steady look. "Have you been talking to Lip?"

Mark sighed and rolled his neck. "No," he muttered.

No, he hadn't. He'd been off in his own head since Sky started spending less time at ARSI, the old fog of nihilism creeping in. It wasn't good, and he knew it. But he'd always known it, and that had never stopped it from happening. There were very few things, very few people, who made it possible to pretend life had any meaning or purpose. Absent those things, absent those people, it could get very difficult to engage.

"We need to work together," Kel said.

"Do we not work together?"

"Lip went looking for Dylan last week."

Mark turned quickly, making the water lap against the edge of the pool. "What?"

"Dylan didn't want to be found. And Lip came back pissed."

"Why didn't I know?"

"Because he was pissed."

"At who?"

"Both of you."

"What the fuck?" Mark muttered, and pulled himself out of the pool to sit on the edge. He ran his hands through his hair, brooding over the water. Lip went all the way to fucking Ireland to look for Dylan, and didn't tell him? And he came back pissed, and he didn't tell him?

"Lip gets tired. He's worried about Dylan, about Aki. And about Ken." Kel turned his cool, even gaze to the ceiling, his elbows resting on the lip of the pool. "You trust Sky?"

It seemed like a trick question, even though he knew it wasn't. "I feel like I know him."

"He might go straight back to hassling Ken once he's not here with you anymore."

That made it sound like they'd been married. Or like Sky was his ward. "He might. But he said he wouldn't."

Kel pulled himself out of the pool. "I'll be in Los Angeles soon. I'll be watching. But it would be better if I didn't have to step in."

"You got a job there?"

"No. But Aki's going to be taking on some work, and Lip doesn't want Ken alone in the city."

"Not with Jin's whole team there, he better not be alone in the city," Mark said, surprised by the notion.

Ken just looked at him, waiting for him to get it.

And he did. Now, Mark realized what this conversation was really about: he would have had no idea if Ken had ended up wandering L.A. with nobody around except Jin's team, because he wasn't making any effort to stay informed.

Without Dylan, Luke, and David, all the worrying about the younger Talents was on them. And Mark wasn't pulling his weight. Sure, he'd been taking care of Sky, but Lip would probably appreciate him helping in a way that didn't get him laid. And with hints of Jackson's interest in Ken, there was no excuse...

Mark sighed heavily. "Okay. I get it. I'll do more."

Kel gave a slight smile. It was rare that his expression changed, but Lip and Mark were usually the ones to see it. Over a decade together had allowed that much.

# 21. It's All Jin's Business

Ken was asleep in the living room, stretched out on his back with one hand resting loosely on his hip. His head was turned slightly toward the edge of the couch. A few thick locks of glossy black hair fell over his brow. His lips were soft and relaxed.

Jin stared at him, troubled without knowing why. He hadn't meant to witness the kid's deflowering. It just happened. And now the image of those mismatched eyes, curious and uncertain in the dark, was burned into his mind.

He studied Ken's long, slender body, struggling to make sense of the fact that the frosty little porcupine had...

Aki was in the doorway looking at him.

Jin hadn't noticed him approaching, and felt a flash of anger—at himself. He wasn't supposed to space out like that. Ignoring Aki for lack of a better response, Jin turned away and went to the kitchen.

Stupid gangster runt followed him. As Aki leaned against the refrigerator, Jin opened his mouth to say something—but he couldn't find anything. He shut his mouth. The silence immediately prickled.

"Move," he ordered Aki, and opened the fridge.

Dammit. Just as he'd suspected, no beer. And Aki's thoughts were starting to fill the quiet.

"Why are you following me around?" Jin grumbled, poking around the contents of the fridge in search of something enticing. Wherever Ken was, good snacks tended to be nearby.

_Why are you watching him sleep?_ Aki thought deliberately. A bold move for someone still in recovery.

Jin moved to the freezer. Fudge bars. Fine. He took one, closed the door, and tore the wrapper off. Staring at Aki, he gave it a good lick before replying in kind. _Think he looks different?_

Aki flinched at the touch of Jin's voice in his head. It was a big flinch. He was in better shape than before, but he still wasn't ready for that, it seemed. His lips thinned for a moment, and then he replied, "Different, why?"

"Since that surfer girl popped his cherry," he said, and then waited for Aki's reaction to his choice of words.

Predictably enough, Aki's eyes darkened. "How do you know that?" he asked quietly.

"A little bird told me."

"Are you spying on him?"

"Spying!" Jin looked around as if to ask an imaginary audience if they'd heard the same stupid thing he'd heard. "Did someone forget to tell you I'm a fucking _telepath_?"

"You can't read his mind."

"I can read everyone else's, bozo. I know everything."

"Get outside."

Jin scowled. "Why?" What, he was supposed to go walk out there and get his ass kicked? He'd be goddamned.

Aki dropped his voice to a soft growl. "Get the fuck outside."

Jin considered saying no, but whatever. With Ken asleep, there was nothing interesting in the house anyway. He wasn't too proud to run if Aki came at him. And so, rolling his eyes, he stalked out of the side door and down the drive.

"You and Sky," Aki said quietly once they had crossed the lawn, "need to stay out of his business."

Jin slowed to a stop as that sank in, and then turned to face Aki with an incredulous grimace. "Me and Sky?" he repeated. "What the hell do _I_ have to do with _Sky_?"

"You're both too interested in what he does without you."

That was rich. Oh, that was just the richest. His first instinct was to tell Aki not to fucking compare him to that pathetic little empath shit, and maybe drop a hint or two that Sky's interest in Ken's private doings was much weirder than his own, but he resisted.

"I'm a fucking _telepath_ ," he said again, and felt a serious rumble of irritation. "I was walking along, and I passed the girl he banged last night. I heard all about it. The fuck you want me to do about it?"

That was mostly true, at least. Well, kind of true. Maybe he had just so happened to be following Ken around the night he got picked up on the pier. And he might have just so happened to loiter in the vicinity of the party.

It wasn't like he'd _watched_ or anything.

His irritation doubled when he realized he was even pretending to explain himself to Aki. For what reason did he need to do that? He was a fucking telepath. He knew shit. He knew all the fucking shit! Who did this punk bastard think he was talking to?

Aki was glaring at him, still. "I don't care what you hear, or what you know. If it's nobody's business, you keep it to yourself."

"You're really pissing me off right now, Sakamoto," Jin muttered. Self-righteous cunt.

"If you don't like it, learn some respect."

Oh, that pissed him off. Aki didn't get to lecture him on respect. He wasn't Jackson. For a second all Jin wanted to do was reach out with his Talent and mentally slap the shit out of the fucking little prima donna.

But if he did that, Ken would rip his face off. So Jin rolled his neck with a strained sigh, listening tiredly to Aki's thoughts and counting to ten.

The idiot thought he was going to tease Ken about this, mock him, or make him feel self-conscious or abnormal. Like the _dad_ that he was, Aki wanted Ken's first real experience to be as safe and positive as possible. And he didn't trust Jin not to fuck it up.

It was sweet, really.

"Fucking stupid shit," Jin muttered, and turned away.

"I'm not finished."

"You don't have to finish. How many times do I have to tell you I can read your fucking—"

"You bring this up with him," Aki warned, "make one snide remark to him, and you and I will have a problem."

"All right," Jin snapped. "Go in and guard your cub, you..." He stopped himself with effort, aware that he had no reason to be losing his shit. Really, he just wanted to leave. So he bowed with a flourish and finished: "...honorable young man."

Aki glared at him for a final moment and turned back to the house.

Jin glowered after him before turning and stalking away.

It took ten minutes to walk to his house, and he didn't like walking much, but right now he needed to move. A restless, frustrated energy had infested his limbs. He swung a neat kick at a garbage can and knocked it over, which helped a little.

Aki was so full of shit. What made him think Jin was going to fuck things up for Ken? He wouldn't have said anything.

All right, he probably would have said something. Why not? It was juicy shit. The feral youth had blossomed with a California girl. It was practically cause for celebration.

He kicked another trashcan, swearing under his breath. Dammit. Why was he in such a terrible fucking mood?

Of course Aki was the only one Aki thought capable of handling such a delicate affair. Pompous prick. Aki didn't even know what had happened. He hadn't even been sure until Jin implied it. Jin knew what had happened.

And he knew the little shit well enough not to tease him about it. Didn't he? He wouldn't have done that. Probably.

Well, even if he would have, he would have fixed it. Shit, so he wasn't Aki fucking Sakamoto, perfect man, moral beacon, killer of killers and guardian of the downtrodden.

So the fuck what? Who wanted to be? At least he wasn't _Sky_. That was some comparison Aki had made. Like he had anything in common with _Sky_!

Goddammit. Maybe he needed his own fucking sex scene.

He stripped and got in the shower, so worked up he could hardly think, and got to it.

#  22. Jackson Thinks Ahead

On the upper level of one of the more discreet upscale restaurants in Beverly Hills, Jackson Gadamer and his empath Vanni were seated in a corner booth. Vanni was dressed less ostensibly than usual in a white tee shirt, black jeans and boots, and with his sharp Nordic features and icy blond hair he looked perfectly like one of the city's countless aspiring models or musicians or actors rather than the nearly sociopathic psychic mercenary that he was. And Jackson, impeccably handsome in his slate-colored suit and white linen shirt, could have been any of the countless executives. Some cities were easier to blend into than others, and L.A. was a favorite of theirs.

"It seems too easy," Vanni said, and downed a glass of red wine in a few quick swallows. He looked at the empty glass with approval and poured himself another.

"It does," Jackson agreed. It did seem outrageous, indeed, that an untrained empath like Sky was wandering around with no protection against exploitation. Even more outrageous was the fact that the inanimate bodies of three Talents, including one Jennifer Mitchell, were currently hidden in a revamped medical clinic with less security than KGA's cleaning supplies.

But Jackson didn't blame the rogue Talents for their circumstances. "They've never been formally trained against psychodynamics. They don't know the full potential of an empath."

"Where'd they get those shields, then, if they don't know Talent?"

"They're never been _formally_ trained. But they do know how to handle themselves. They are extremely competent, highly adaptive. Their relationship with Jennifer Mitchell required them to evolve, and so they did. Their group dynamics have allowed them to feed off of one another's strengths. It's quite extraordinary."

Vanni gave him a bland look, and then shook his head as if it was all beyond him. He felt Jackson's respect for the Talents was excessive. "Okay, whatever. They don't know any better so they let the tart run free. It doesn't explain the ragged-ass security at that fuckin' clinic."

Jackson sipped his coffee. "Money."

Vanni looked at him. " _Che_?"

"They're starting over from the ground up, and they have major expenses. Security of the standard we are accustomed to does not come cheap." Jackson said. "They're not stupid. They're fully aware of their precarious position. But they can't cover all bases at the moment."

"They should cover this one."

"They don't know that," Jackson said simply.

"They don't know you," Vanni clarified.

Jackson didn't need to reply. It was true. The rogue Talents had witnessed some of their apparently dead friends being triggered to return to life, and that the process involved a psychic element along with accelerated and enhanced healing. But they had no reason to think Jackson would conspire to wake their dead.

Their server brought their food, a rare steak for each.

"I'm not taking the blame if this doesn't work, by the way." Vanni swallowed some wine. "'Cause I told you. I'm telling you, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. This is Jin work. I don't do these kinds of complex directives."

"It would be simpler for Jin," Jackson allowed, "but it would put him in too difficult a position. We can't implicate him in this. Tell me again, what have I asked you to do?"

Vanni sighed and gestured with his fork like he was drawing an imaginary map. "Find Sky at the airport. Help Jin into his head so he can look for intel on ARSI and the dead Talents. Use the opportunity to make Sky miss them desperately. And you think I can hide this from Jin."

"You know Jin can't tell the difference between your influence and Sky's own feelings."

"I don't underestimate Jin."

"No, that would be very unwise. But in this case I assure you there will be no problem. You seem unusually reluctant to take this on, Giovanni."

"I am not," Giovanni said immediately. "Don't bait me."

"No, I understand your skepticism. I can only assure you that Sky is an unusually vulnerable target. Impulsive and prone to completely irrational notions. You'll understand when you get into his head. It will not be difficult to convince him that this is a good idea."

"You think if I focus on what we want him to do, he'll do it."

"Yes. I realize this is outside the purview of an ordinary empath, but you are not an ordinary empath. You should know that, considering your accomplishments of late. You had these same doubts when I asked you to suppress Jin's emotional awareness of the Key Prophecy."

Vanni nodded in acknowledgement of the praise. Jackson's Talents responded well to challenges and accomplishments. It stoked their trust and fueled them to strive for more. It was yet another thing KGA had never understood.

"He'll do what we want," Jackson said, concluding the matter. "You'll see."

Suddenly Vanni looked toward the stairs. "The fuck is he wearing?"

Jackson shook his head, sparing himself the sight for as long as possible. Jin liked to amuse himself with costumes from time to time, and had at various points styled himself as a German poet, a Korean pop idol, and an American politician, among other ensembles.

The telepath pulled out a chair and sat primly at the table, wearing a deep V-neck tee shirt and skinny jeans accessorized with sandals, a long sheer scarf, and enormous sunglasses.

"Afternoon, gentleman," he said in a cheery California accent.

Though he knew the telepath would take it as a victory, Jackson could not help fixing him with a brief stare. The outfit was so hideous it didn't deserve to be taken off. "Jin," he greeted at last.

"Jackson," Jin returned in an exaggerated baritone.

Jackson ignored that. "You're late. You leave for the airport in ten minutes."

"I'm hungry." He lifted the wine bottle, found it was still half full, and took a swig.

Clearly, the telepath was in one of his more volatile moods. Jackson wondered if that required a readjustment in the evening's plans, and took a moment to let his mind work. It would be fine, he concluded, but it was worth a precaution. "Jin."

"Yes, master?"

Jackson contained a flicker of irritation despite wanting to rip the sunglasses off of his head. "Do not goad him. He is not to know you are there."

"I know," Jin said, making no such effort to conceal his own irritation. He stuck the wine bottle between his lips again for a few more swallows.

"You know. But you love tormenting him, and you are clearly in the mood for it."

"Maybe someone should torment me," Jin purred.

"You're tormenting everyone with that fucking stupid outfit," Vanni muttered, sawing through the last of his steak.

Jackson kept his eyes coolly on Jin, unmoved, until the telepath sighed.

"Find Sky," Jin said. "Vanni distracts him. I get the ARSI info." He took another swig of wine." But I don't just bust in and grab it. Nothing rough, nothing too fast. After Vanni warms him up and gets him all nice and loose, I'll start just stroking my way inside his shields, inch by inch..."

_Is there something I need to know_ , Jackson thought at the telepath, _that would explain why you're acting like such a child today?_

Jin sighed and plunked the empty bottle back on the table. "Never mind. Can't even finish a fucking sentence around here."

Vanni was staring at the telepath with a dark look in his eye, and that was enough of a trigger to let Jackson's Talent put it together. Vanni and Jin got along very well, for the most part, particularly considering the common belief that telepaths and empaths naturally hated each other. Jin was more charming than the average mind reader, and he kept Vanni entertained.

But Vanni had shown his first real scorn toward the telepath only recently, when he'd tasted Jin's obsession with the pale, green-eyed boy Talent who had bested Vanni in a fight. Now Vanni was reading something off of the telepath that was stirring up that scorn again. Which made it very likely that he sensed Jin's foul mood had something to do with Ken.

"It's time to leave," Jackson said. "Vanni, wait downstairs."

The empath clearly didn't mind, and within moments Jin and Jackson were alone at the table.

"You're distracted," Jackson said.

"Jesus Christ," Jin muttered, pulling out a cigarette. "I know what to do."

"You've been spending a lot of time with Ken."

"You told me to."

That tone was getting old very quickly. "Jin. We are not free yet. Discipline is more critical than ever."

Jin looked at him before he lit his cigarette. Beneath those horrible Hollywood starlet glasses, his clever lips were frowning. _I get it. I'm fine._

Jackson studied him for a moment longer, because he knew nothing sobered Jin up like having his performance called into question. The telepath could play the class clown all he wanted, but Jackson knew that at the end of the day he took his Talent and his work extremely seriously.

It worked. Jin took off the sunglasses and fixed Jackson with a look of his own, his blue eyes burning with offense at being doubted.

"I'm fine," he grated out. "I'm just fucking bored."

Jackson knew better, but it didn't matter. Jin likely did not. "Then get to work."

"Give me a kiss."

"Jin. Get to the airport."

Jin rolled his eyes and stood up, sauntering out of the restaurant.

#  23. Fever Pitch

Ken stood in the doorway of his bathroom, silently glaring in.

After several long moments, during which Jin continued to peacefully soak in the tub with a wet cloth over his eyes, pretending he was alone, Ken finally spoke. "Get out."

Jin flinched as if he hadn't been pretending after all. The telepath reached up to peel the cloth from his face as he breathed, "Motherfucker." He turned his bright blue eyes reproachfully on Ken. "You shouldn't sneak up on naked people."

Ken stared hard at him, feeling stiff and combative. Was this a joke? Did Jin know about the dream? Could the telepath read his mind as he slept? How could he find out, without giving himself away?

"Get out," he ordered.

"I wanna talk to you."

"Why are you in my fucking bathtub?"

"I'm a water sign." Jin sat up, water streaming down his chest and arms. "Hey, I gotta tell you something."

Ken cared so little about what Jin would say that he barely heard him. God, the steam in the bathroom was hot. So hot that his shirt felt damp and rough. He plucked it away from himself and fanned it, closing his eyes.

\- - -

One moment Ken was standing in the doorway looking uncharacteristically flustered, and the next his shields dropped and his eyes rolled back in his head.

Jin shot to his feet, splashing water over the edges of the tub and jumping out as Ken hit the floor. His thoughts disappeared as quickly as they'd sounded, but they echoed powerfully in Jin's head: _So hot—sweat—dreamed this—_

The kid was on his back, his legs bent as he'd fallen. He was drenched in sweat, his nose was bleeding, and the whites of his eyes were visible between his fluttering eyelids.

"Motherfucker," Jin breathed again. He grabbed a robe from a hook near the door and put it on, staring down at Ken. Then he moved to grab his phone from beside the sink.

"Yes," Jackson answered.

"I need you in range. Kid just passed out, nosebleed, eyes rolled back. His shields dropped for a second, and..." He crouched down beside Ken and shook his head, baffled. He could feel heat coming off of the kid's body. "He's all sweaty, running a fever like a fucking pyro."

"I'm on my way."

"Should I move him?"

"Run a cold bath. Get him to drink as much ice water as he can."

"You think he's..." Could Ken be a pyrokinetic? But his fight with Vanni had already established that he was some kind of psychic, and pyros were almost never hybrids unless they were telekinetics.

"I don't know," Jackson said calmly. "What did you hear when his shields dropped?"

Jin frowned slightly as he looked at Ken's pale, damp face, the slightly parted lips. Ken would hate him for telling. But there was no lying to Jackson...

What the fuck was he thinking? Of course there was no lying to Jackson.

"That he was hot," Jin said, "he was sweating, and he thought he'd dreamed this. Dreamed seeing me in the bath." Actually, there was a nice thought to save for later. But for now he moved to the bathtub, pulled the plug, and sat on the edge as he waited for the hot water to drain. "That's all I got."

"I'll be in the area soon in case you need my assistance. Just keep him cool and call me again if his condition worsens."

"Got it."

There was a gasp from across the room. Jin hung up and went to Ken, grabbing a hand towel along the way, and crouched beside him again.

His shields were still down.

Alive again? But hot, so hot, too hot—the fuck is he doing here? If he tells Jackson...

"I did tell Jackson," Jin said, and before he knew what he was saying he blurted, "Your shields are down. I can hear you."

Ken looked at him, startled. His thoughts went silent at once.

Well, that was impressive—goddammit. Why the fuck had he said that? He pressed the towel gently to Ken's upper lip, wiping the blood. "Can you sit up?"

Ken snatched the towel. "Get out."

"Sorry. Not yet." He went back to the bathtub, fuming.

Why in the _fuck_ had he said that? He'd been desperate to get inside the little fucker's head, and now he'd thrown away the only chance he'd gotten. _Why_?

"How do you feel?" Jin asked gruffly.

"None of your fucking business."

"Whatever," Jin muttered. He replaced the plug and turned on the cold water, scowling. Then he turned back and watched Ken lift himself up on his elbows. The kid's eyes were closed again, his brow knitted and his face shining with sweat. Jin observed him closely. "This ever happened to you before?"

Ken opened his eyes, grimacing. "What?"

"The heat. The sweat."

"Yes." Ken started to climb to his feet.

"Don't lie," Jin said impatiently. "Has it happened before?"

"No." Ken stood and turned as if to leave the bathroom, but then he gripped the doorway, his head hanging.

Stubborn little twat. Jin went quickly to his side. "Come here. Sit."

Ken shrugged him off. "Don't touch me."

"Fine, hit the floor again. It'll be easier to move you around." He started to turn away, but Ken suddenly seized the front of his robe with both hands.

"Why did you tell him?" Ken growled, glaring up at him.

The kid's body felt like a hot iron through his thin cotton robe.

"Jesus Christ," Jin said, forgetting his irritation. He grabbed one of Ken's fists where it gripped his shirt, and then snatched his hand back. The skin was painfully hot to the touch. Jin pointed to the bathtub. "Get in the tub."

"Fuck you."

"Keep your clothes on if you want. But get in the tub or I'll put you in it."

"Try it," Ken barked, shoving him back.

Jin grunted as his back hit the doorframe. He _really_ didn't want to try it. "Look, I don't know if you're a pyro or what, but I'm not gonna have Aki come back and find out I let you boil yourself like a fuckin' sausage."

"What do you care?" Ken snapped, and then his eyes lost focus and he swayed.

"I warned you," Jin muttered. In one quick motion he bent down, wrapped his arms around Ken's waist and thighs, and lifted him off the floor. The kid went tense and then started to thrash, but Jin only had to take a few steps before dropping him unceremoniously into the half-filled tub. Ken's harsh gasp cheered him up a little. "Sorry," he said. "It's cold." Served him right.

Ken grabbed the sides of the tub as if to rise, but then he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, sinking back into the water with obvious relief.

Jin raised his eyebrows, watching. Ken's blue shirt floated lightly in the water. Those pants were going to be uncomfortable. At least he wasn't wearing shoes.

"Is he coming here?" Ken asked after a long moment.

"Not here. But close."

"Why?"

"In case you need him."

Ken opened his eyes, his lips curling in disgust. "Why the fuck would I need him?"

"You look like you're about to go pyro," Jin said simply. "You know why we don't have many pyros? Not 'cause they lose their shit like telepaths. They go along just fine. As long as they survive manifesting. But half the time they don't."

"I don't know what _any_ of that means," Ken snapped.

"Pyros. Pyrokinetics. It's a type of telekinesis. They make fire. And when it first manifests, it's like this. They get fevers, hotter and hotter, until they burn up inside and out. It can be ugly."

Ken stared at him.

Jin stared back, but then it got awkward. "Take your clothes off. It's making me feel soggy." He turned away, sitting down on the floor with his back against the tub.

To his mild surprise, he heard Ken sloshing around to undress.

"That's why I called Jackson," Jin said. "He knows what to do."

"Jackson can fuck himself."

Jin sighed heavily. The fucking vendetta against Jackson! Like anyone else would know what to do if shit did hit the fan with whatever stupid Talent the little shit was hiding away?

"Do _you_ know what to do?" Ken demanded.

"Kind of."

"Then you do it."

Jin turned his chin slightly toward Ken's voice, raising his eyebrows. So, Ken trusted him at least a little more than he did Jackson. That was something. "You might not be a pyro, though. Fuckin' weirdo that you are, it could be anything."

And he could have known what, maybe, if he hadn't warned the little shit about his shields. What was wrong with him?

He jumped when a sopping wet mass landed on his head. Ken's jeans. He turned around and shot Ken a look, pausing to assess his face. "Better?"

Ken held his gaze. His cheeks were still flushed, his strange eyes stranger with the brightness of fever. His black hair stuck to his forehead and temples in slick little tendrils. He was slouched down in the water nearly up to his shoulders, which were white and sharp and shining.

"I'm thirsty," he said.

Jin stared back at him curiously. So he was all right with Jin being there, now? All right. He nodded and stood up.

When he came back to the room with a large pitcher of ice water in one hand and a glass in the other, Ken had gotten out of the tub and was lying on the bed, naked but for a towel around his hips.

Jin faltered in the doorway, but managed to pretend he wasn't disarmed as he went to the bed and poured Ken a glass of water. "I'll turn the AC on."

Ken stared up at him as he reached for the glass, and kept staring as he drank. But he said nothing.

So now he was back in one of his creepy moods. Okay. "You still hot?"

"Tell him to go away."

"Fuck me," Jin sighed, and looked for where to control the room temperature. He found a little box by the door. "I'm not gonna do that," he told Ken as he turned the temperature down.

"He can't help me unless I want him to help me."

"You're a stubborn little shit, you know that? You'd risk frying like a piece of bacon on the bathroom floor just to make sure everyone knows how much you hate Jackson?"

It seemed like Ken wanted to retort, but he just pressed his lips together and held out his empty glass.

Jin wondered what kind of black magic the kid had that made it seem like a reward to stand beside his bed and refill his water glass.

_Jackson_ , he attempted, and felt the man's mental acknowledgement. _Fever's gone down. I'll stay with him._

_I'll be available_ , Jackson replied. _I'll want to discuss this with you. You should be prepared for further manifestations. They will be similarly catastrophic_.

_Right_. Jin heard nothing more. Ken was still staring at him. "What are you looking at?" he asked.

"You read my mind?"

"For a second."

"What did you hear?"

Jin sat on the edge of the bed, angled toward him. "You wondered if I'd called Jackson. You were hot. And you thought you'd dreamed it before, seeing me in the bathroom."

Something like dismay came into Ken's eyes.

"What?"

"You really can do it."

Jin was incredulous. "Did you think I was making it up?"

Ken laced his fingers over his waist, looking away. He'd put on some weight since Jin had last seen him shirtless. The skinny stomach that had taken a bullet just a couple of months before had filled out with attractive lines.

"What?" Ken demanded, staring at the window.

"You put on some muscle."

Ken looked back at him, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah." He lifted a hand, but stopped himself and lowered it again.

Ken looked at it, then at Jin's face.

Jin stood up, going to the bathroom to drain the tub again. As soon as he'd turned away from Ken, he let his face twist up in horror. He didn't know which was worse: that he'd reached out to run his fingers down the faint ridges of Ken's stomach like it was the most natural thing in the world to do, or that he'd stopped himself like a Bible school teacher on a second date, or...

Jesus! Jesus, fucking Christ, what was wrong with him? What the hell was this kid doing to his head? Was he a fucking empath, too? Was he toying with his mind? He pulled the plug from the tub and headed back to the bedroom, throwing himself face down on the bed beside the diminutive nightmare.

"What if I burn up in my sleep?"

Fuck it. Jin shifted, turned onto his side facing Ken, and laid his hand on Ken's naked stomach.

"I'll feel it," he said. "It'll wake me up."

Ken tensed for a second, but then slowly relaxed. "How does Jackson see the future?"

Jin could feel Ken staring at him, but kept his eyes closed. "Usually he just knows. The likely outcomes are just obvious to him. Like Lip on steroids. But for big stuff, he goes into kind of a trance. His eyes close and he's out for ten seconds or so. Sometimes a minute. And he sees stuff."

"How does he see it?"

Jin really wanted to open his eyes, but still he resisted. He had a feeling this was an important little chat they were having, and he didn't want to spoil it by showing his interest. "They call it a vision," he said, "but it's more like a new memory. It appears in his head like it's always been there."

"So not like a dream."

"No. It can happen in a dream, for some of them, but it doesn't feel like a dream. The brain treats it like a memory. If he didn't pay attention, he wouldn't even know sometimes, the difference between what will happen and what already happened. It takes a sharp head to do that, keep it separate like that."

"So when he comes out of it he doesn't know right away what he saw?"

"Depends. They train precogs to collect it fast, while it's still easy to tell the difference. But an untrained precog, yeah, sometimes they lose things right after they see them. They can get pretty mixed up. That's why they work with telepaths early on. We can see the difference better than they can see it for themselves." He waited for Ken to say more. When he didn't, Jin asked, "That ever happen to you?"

"No," Ken muttered.

Under Jin's palm, Ken's stomach rose and fell slightly with his breath. His temperature was almost back to normal now. Jin opened his eyes and found Ken was, indeed staring at him.

"You don't even know what you can do, do you?" Jin asked curiously.

"You have theories, don't you?" A lock of damp hair slipped down over his eye.

"Sure do." Seriously. Fuck it. He reached up and brushed the hair from Ken's brow.

Ken didn't react. "Like what?"

"Like..." Emboldened, Jin didn't withdraw his hand. He tucked another strand of hair behind Ken's ear, feeling the shell's edge beneath his fingers. "You're a super-hybrid. Like Jen. Maybe you can do it all."

"I'm not an empath."

Still playing with Ken's hair, Jin raised his eyebrows. "No?"

"No. I'm not."

"Good. I hate empaths."

Ken smiled slightly. "Are they worse than telepaths?"

Fuck, those little corners when he smiled. Fuck, he was out of his mind. But his thumb trailed down Ken's temple, his cheek, and _fuck_ , this was good. "What do you think?"

"I don't mind telepaths." Ken's smile widened, showing his white teeth. Fuck. "I barely notice them."

Jin came so close to tasting that fucking smile he almost didn't stop himself in time. "Ch," he scoffed. "One look at me in the bathtub and your legs went out from under you."

Ken laughed suddenly, his eyes crinkling with genuine delight.

He had a dimple. Jin felt it under his thumb. Jesus fucking Christ, he felt like he was on drugs. He moved his hand from Ken's face to his chest, resting his palm there on his sternum, acutely conscious of all that smooth skin and tight muscle and the pale pink nipples at his fingertips, and he felt his abs tighten in response.

Shit. Christ.

He wanted to fuck—no, not fuck him. That wouldn't be enough.

He wanted to gather Ken's mysterious body in his hands and squeeze it. He wanted to swallow it down. No, that wasn't enough.

What the fuck did he want? He wanted to see that smile again, wanted to eat it like ice cream. He wanted to feel the shapes of his bones and...

"You feel better?" he heard himself ask. His throat felt dry.

Ken nodded drowsily, and turned his face toward the ceiling as he closed his eyes.

Their bodies were close. They were so close. Jesus, why did it make him so happy? He'd hugged Rinzen like this before, years ago, when the telekinetic was just a high-strung kid who could never get to sleep. But to make it this far with Ken, to be holding the demonic snowflake at all, it felt like...

Maybe he was sick. Maybe he should talk to Jackson about it. Something so drastically out of character could be cause for alarm. Maybe he was losing it for real, finally.

But Jackson had tried to warn him about something like this, hadn't he?

Something troubled him about that memory, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He pushed the thought aside. He had enough to worry about right this minute, with all these weird feelings making his head spin.

But what was he supposed to do about it? Except slowly, slowly, move just an inch closer so that he could sneak his arm right around Ken's waist.

Fuck it. What the hell else could he do? He wanted Ken. Whatever that meant.

So he'd just have to get him.

#  24. The Worst That Could Happen

Black went slowly to gray. Nothing became something. Silence disturbed by sound. Peace destroyed by sensation. And nerves awoken by pain.

The stiff heart labored. Each effort struck sharply, and it was this pain that drew the first hiss of breath.

The lungs expanding, another pain. The first command from brain to fingertips, the first twitch, a sharp sting. Dry lips parting. Eyes opening to nothing.

He'd felt this before. The traces of a foreign touch, a Talent that had squirmed into the base of the neck and coaxed him back from the dead.

Coaxed him back.

Oh...

Pain forgotten, David jolted to life, thrusting his hands out to feel his surroundings. Cold metal met his palms.

_Luke_.

David slammed his hands into the casing above him, his heart working harder now. His limbs screamed against the sudden movement after being still so long.

Where was he? How long _had_ it been? Why was he trapped in the dark?

Luke...

Where was his brother?

A rush of nausea overwhelmed him and he gagged, turning to his side. Nothing came up, but he shuddered with the effort.

_Luke._ Where was his brother?

"Luke," he tried to speak, because Luke wasn't answering his mental call. But his throat was stuck to itself, dry as paper, and hardly a breath came out.

David banged on the casing again. Was this a coffin? Was he buried?

Why wake him up like this? Why couldn't he feel Luke?

Luke!

\- - -

Ken woke up with a jolt, breathing heavily.

"Th'fuck," Jin mumbled, his arm still hooked around Ken's waist. The telepath lifted his head. "You all—"

Pushing Jin away, Ken grabbed his phone from the nightstand and jumped to his feet. Holding the towel around his waist, he dialed Aki as he left the room and shut the door behind him.

He remembered. He remembered what he'd seen. He'd found the memory that hadn't happened yet, the vision that had hit him when he'd passed out in the bathroom. Or maybe he was wrong. Maybe he'd just imagined it. How the fuck would he know? He was barely even awake now.

Aki didn't answer, so Ken dialed Lip, pacing down the hall and out the back door, out into the garden, as far from Jin as he could.

"Lip," he whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I..." He glanced back toward the house. Was Lip going to think he was crazy? Fuck, what the hell? Maybe it was just... "I had a bad dream," he whispered. "And I can't reach Aki."

"He's out partying," Lip said, their sarcastic code for watching the clinic where the bodies were kept. His voice was brisk with concern. "What's the matter?"

"Can you check on him now? Right now?"

"I'm on my way out the door. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Ken whispered, glancing back at the house again. Jin hadn't followed him. "Probably. I just had a bad dream."

"That's enough for me. I'll get in touch with him. You okay? You home and safe?"

"Yeah." Ken looked up at the moon, feeling strange and unreal, like he was still in a dream and something nonsensical could happen any second.

"I'll call back, mate. Sit tight."

\- - -

Aki didn't socialize much with the ARSI agents. There were four outside the clinic, guarding the property, and two inside. They treated him as an authority figure, for some reason, and he could tell Mark had trained them well. Though the job must have seemed ridiculous—guarding dead bodies in a closed-down health clinic near a Los Angeles freeway—they looked as alert as if they were anticipating an attack on a world leader.

But they weren't Talents, and they couldn't hear what Aki could hear.

They did not hear the faint noise from the basement that jolted Aki to his feet.

He looked at the ARSI agents, who had turned to him when he rose and snapped to attention when they saw his face. Without explanation, Aki headed for the stairs.

"Aki," said the agent in charge, a guy a few years older than him named Jack Green.

"Come. Just you." Aki said over his shoulder, moving quickly though his body felt like ice. "Everyone else stays outside."

He knew. Maybe it was his nerves that convinced him, but he knew.

He just didn't know which one.

When they reached the outer door to the room holding the three Talents, he knew it again. A metallic thud echoed within the room, and this time Jack heard it, too.

Aki froze outside the door, his heart pounding.

"Aki," Jack said in a grim murmur. "You don't think..."

"You know what to do?"

"Yes. I'll signal the others."

Another thud rang out from inside the room.

"Fuck," Aki muttered, and opened the door.

The bodies were in the clinic's small morgue. They had refurbished the equipment to suit their purposes, but had kept the morgue's appearance as intact as possible for concealment purposes. The specially designed containers in which the bodies lay were themselves hidden away in the drawers. Aki suddenly realized he didn't know which one was which.

It was from the drawer nearest to the door that Aki heard another thud. He glanced at Jack, who met his eyes and nodded despite his obvious shock.

Aki pulled the drawer out to its full length and punched the code to unlock the container. If it was Jen, he would either fucking kill her or he'd die trying. With that thought, he opened the container and watched the lid slide all the way back to reveal the figure on its padded tray.

"Oh, David," Aki blurted, and his momentary relief was erased by a wave of horror.

David was half-turned on his side, taking quick, shallow breaths. He jerked his face away from the scant light, his eyes squeezed shut, but his arm shot out and he attempted to grab Aki's shirt.

Jack tensed, raising his weapon, but Aki shook his head and took David's hand in his own.

"It's okay," he said. "It's me. Aki."

"Luke," David rasped, trying to pull himself out.

"I know. Come on." He bent to wrap his arms around David and lift him from the cot, supporting his weight on his shoulder and pulling him to the next drawer. "Jack," he said. "Which one?"

"We're not told," Jack said, his eyes wide.

Of course. Fuck. David sagged against him and Aki hoisted his weight, hugging him close to his side as he pulled the next drawer out and opened the case.

Aki felt the strength leave him, and might have dropped David if the Irish boy hadn't fallen forward over the body anyway. Aki backed away, his head swimming.

The sight of them like that, of David hunched awkwardly over his twin, his stiff and unsteady hand clumsily grasping Luke's cold cheek so that his gaunt, lifeless face moved slightly on the cot...

"Aki," Lip said from the doorway, and then under his breath, "Jesus, _David_?"

David was slowly sinking to the floor, and Aki stepped forward to catch him before he could fall. David was light in his arms and Aki wanted to hug him close, hide him, hold him, do anything to spare him from this horrible thing, from waking up alone and trapped like this for no reason, stolen back from the darkness and silence of death to find himself, for the first time, without Luke...

"Out," David commanded in a thin, barely audible whisper. "Aki, get me out."

"It's gonna be okay," Aki said dazedly, carrying him toward the door. "It's gonna be fine."

Christ, it was not going to be fine. It was not fine. How the fuck had this happened?

Tears were welling up in his eyes and he was damned if he had any way to stop them. He was numb. All he could do was hold David up, hold him close, and get out of there.

\- - -

Lip made sure Aki and David had made it to the stairs, where the other agents would help them up. Then, gesturing for Jack to stand ready, he moved quickly to Jen's drawer and pulled it out.

For one wonderful, blessed moment, he looked down at that incredible face and saw her at peace as he'd seen her before during his routine visits to her maximum-security crypt. Her dark red hair was twisted loosely to one side of her neck, her full lips relaxed, her thick lashes fanned out over her silky skin.

Lip lowered his head, exhaling.

And then she opened her eyes.

#  25. WTF, Jen?

Jen used to love her Talent. The first years, when it was all that physical grace and strength and speed and sharpness of mind and resistance to injury, she had loved it. But then one day she reached for a bottle of beer and it zipped right into her hand. Mark and Kel were startled, but not as badly as she was.

She was horrified. It was one thing to feel superhuman. But later she would share with Mark her overwhelming sense of fear and foreboding. He reassured her, as always, that they would handle it. He was wrong.

The telekinesis only got stronger. And then the healing abilities swelled, and that she could live with, because she did good things with it. If it weren't for that, Mark might still be dead.

But then came the empathy. That was the beginning of the end.

It wasn't the _feeling_ , although that could be painful, picking up all the sadness and pain and jealousy of people around her. It was the realization that she could inflict her feelings on others, that she did it sometimes without even realizing it, that she had no idea how to control it. And once she realized that, she wondered how long it had been going on. How could she know when it had started? How long had she been manipulating people without knowing it?

She was paranoid of influencing her friends, terrified that she was corrupting Mark with her own desires and frustrations. And she couldn't tell them. It would only make it worse, spread the paranoia around, or even scare them away. Their friendship was the only thing holding her down. It was her only anchor.

But that, too, started to crumble. How could she know they really loved her now? How could she know they were scared for her? And what was Mark anymore? How much of him and his love were real when she was around?

By the time the telepathy kicked in, she already knew her Talent was going to destroy her. The power was growing inside her like a cancer, breaking her down. She could feel it changing her, confusion creeping in, certainties dissolving and memories turning brittle.

So she left.

She had to leave them. Especially Mark, but Lip and Kel, too. The love she felt from them reminded her every day of how her Talent had betrayed them all, tricked them into caring for her. It hurt still, to think of that. Even after her heart was dead and her brain had gone murky, her soul ached when she thought of all the years she'd thrived among them, oblivious to the fact that it was all an illusion.

Sometimes she tried to believe it wasn't like that. But it was. How else could she have built relationships like that? What did she ever have to offer them? She'd been searching for it, searching for anything that would have justified that love, but all she could find in herself by then was bitterness and fear and violence.

She spent her days and nights hating herself in Paris, lurking in solitary places, finding ways to needle her own senses: cheap alcohol, ugly sex, squalor. All the while she was standing on the edge of a hot black abyss, staring into it.

One afternoon, she gave up. She left limbo and started trying to die. She cut herself, shot herself, threw herself from the white cliffs of Normandy. Nothing worked. _Nothing_. She was too strong. She'd get scratched up, and her bones would break, and sometimes she'd think _ah, I've done it_. But then she'd open her eyes and she'd be right back where she started. And each attempt, each waking, left her feeling more crazed and ugly inside than before. She could hardly remember who she was.

At one point in this suicidal stupor, she drifted back into Paris to look in on the men she'd once called friends. That was when she found out about Ken. She never saw him, but she didn't have to. Scanning the house she caught psychic glimpses of some dark, silent power she couldn't identify, something huge and wild. He hid himself well, but the immensity of his Talent was there, like a phantom moving among the trees.

It was so potent, that Talent, that the hair rose on the back of her neck. It aroused an instinctive fear she hadn't felt in years. And with it came a sick burst of hope:

A Talent like that could kill her.

All she had to do was get in his head and pull him toward her. But he was impenetrable. She thought if she could learn more about him, find out what his Talent was, or what he looked like, she could target him more effectively. So she chose someone close to him whose thoughts she could rob. The Japanese boy, Aki, seemed like an obvious choice. He was only a physical Talent and new to their world. He hadn't had the chance to develop hybrid abilities like the rest of them.

But as soon as she was in his head, she knew she'd fucked up. Talent was a mysterious thing. It was a mistake to underestimate it. Somehow Aki sensed what she was after, and not only that, but he resisted her invasion more quickly and tenaciously than she was ready to deal with. His shields closed in on themselves like nesting boxes, shutting her out, and he fled deep into his own mind.

She hadn't intended to destroy him. But when she couldn't find what she wanted, she had no choice but to tear it all apart. And when she realized her target had slipped away, she was so furious she'd burned it all down.

#  26. Lip Makes a Call

Lip stared at Jen's tired face, his mind reeling with what he'd heard. Her dark green eyes were fixed on his, hopeless, defeated, and without tears.

"What about Luke?" Mark asked beside him, his voice hushed. "Why him?"

He was sitting beside Lip at the table, slouched slightly in his chair. His dark brown hair was a silky mess, and dismay had tightened his Seminole face in the most attractive way, adding tension to his jaw and a sensitive edge to his brow.

_Dammit_ , Lip thought grimly. And there she was, too, fresh from the coffin and as beautiful as ever. That fucking face of hers, every inch of it, down to the way the light hit her soft cheekbones and the contrast between the whites of her eyes and the deep green irises...

Shit. Who was going to keep these two apart?

But Jen wasn't looking at Mark. She hadn't looked at him once. In fact she closed her eyes at the sound of his voice, and then she looked down at the table.

"Luke was the only other psychic," Jen said, "and he hadn't developed it yet, but I knew he was strong. I thought if I could provoke his Talent..."

Mark released a breath and asked, softly and helplessly, "What did you do to him, Jen?"

"Everything," she whispered, closing her eyes again. "Everything I could think of."

Lip wished, stupidly, that Mark hadn't asked. He wished she hadn't answered.

He wished it had never fucking happened.

Luke's face appeared in his mind, the delicate face and distant eyes, the shy smile on his lips. The kid had come to life with Aki, had finally seemed to find his own strength outside of his bond with David. He'd overcome inconceivable pain, struggled beyond measure to put together that fragile happiness, that late-blooming sense of self.

God, to think of her ripping him to pieces for all those weeks.

Lip felt like he was going to throw up. He stared at her for a moment longer, shaking his head, and then put his face in his hands.

Goddammit. What the fuck were they supposed to do?

"I can't be here," Jen said, her voice still unsteady but her words certain. "I can't."

"Let's go." Mark said. "I'll take you somewhere else."

Lip tensed and lifted his head, but Jen spoke before he could: "No."

"Jen," Mark said roughly. "You're wrong about this. We loved you before you were an empath. You're back to your senses now. I can still be on your side—"

"No!" she repeated sharply, standing up and turning to pace the other side of the room. "No," she said again, more calmly. "All that's over. I can't go back. And you need to think about A-Aki." Her voice broke on his name and she covered her face, standing with her back to them, her spine rigid.

"How can you say that?" Mark demanded quietly. "We're your friends. We can't just let it go. You're still—"

"I need to talk to Lip," she interrupted. "Alone."

There was a brief silence. Lip glanced up at her, surprised, and then at Mark, who looked like someone had just kicked him in the back. And then Mark stood up, his handsome face pale and anguished, and left without another look at either of them.

Lip exhaled and leaned back in his chair, looking at her again. "Jen."

"I ruined him, Lip."

"Don't."

He didn't want to talk about it. Not now. Mark let himself be blinded by his love for her, always had, even now—even now, with David back to life as well, with the sight of Luke's sad corpse still burned into Lip's memory, and Aki's!

"You've seen it," Jen persisted. "You see what happens when I'm around." She shuddered, her voice thick with tears. "After what I did to those kids, he'd still..."

Before he could interrupt, she shook her head and turned to face him again.

"I can't stay here," she said, "and I can't be near him. I'm bad for him and you know it."

"I want what's best for everyone," Lip said carefully. "Including you."

"Stop that, please." Desperation filled her voice. "Stop sympathizing with me. I can't take this again!" She raked her hair back, pacing the room. "I'm not right inside, Lip, I can't..."

Lip stood up, crossing the room and grabbing her by the shoulders. "Listen to me."

She shuddered and closed her eyes.

God, she was a fucking mess. It wasn't fair. Whatever had happened to her...how could he not sympathize? It was like she'd split into different people. And she wasn't remembering everything. She wasn't remembering the fight she'd put up, or all that she'd been before her Talent overwhelmed her and her head went toxic. She wasn't remembering all that she'd done to deserve the love she got, all the things she'd done for her friends before her mind turned on her.

Or maybe she just didn't believe it. And how could she? How could someone who had committed such brutal crimes ever recognize the goodness she'd had in her before?

But it was no use wrestling with that now. It was too late. She was right. There was no going back, even if they wanted to. He did want to, and he knew very fucking well that Mark did, too. But it was too late. It was too far back.

Lip tried to stop himself, but he couldn't. Jen sobbed when he brushed a tear from her cheek, and she broke down when he took her in his arms.

"Shhh." He stroked her satiny hair, crushed under the weight of his longing for the past, for a chance to undo the loss of his friend and the losses she'd inflicted. He hugged her tight, shaking his head, amazed by how familiar her body still was to him, the firm press of her breasts against his chest and the contours of her back.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "Lip, I'm _sorry_."

"I know, Jen." He kissed the side of her head. "We're gonna get through this." Fuck if he knew how. But they would. It wasn't like they had a choice, was it?

"I can't be here, Lip." She quieted down, trembling against him, and then she spoke carefully. "You have to let me meet him."

Lip went tense and still, and then he slowly pulled away. "What?"

"Ken." Her eyes were pleading. "You have to let him try. He could..."

Lip's heart ached, and the parts of his body that she'd touched in their embrace felt empty and cold now that he'd let go.

But the thought of her resuming the siege that had wreaked so much destruction brought pragmatism back to the forefront. She couldn't go near Ken. He wouldn't have it. Aki wouldn't have it.

"No," he said. "That's not gonna happen."

Though it couldn't have shocked her, dismay flooded her face. Silence hung between him. Lip felt the weight of her request hanging in the air, like a threat from the future. That was what she was now, wasn't it? A future threat.

"I'll figure this out," he said at last, sounding flat and lame.

In that moment, he didn't know what to do. He was afraid to upset her. He was afraid to turn and walk away, afraid she'd feel spurned. But he was afraid to stay and offend her with emotions she didn't trust.

Yeah, there it was. He was afraid of her.

"Mark's right," he said quietly, deciding there was no better choice here but honesty. "We haven't abandoned you. We still care about you. We still wish we could go back to the way it was." He swallowed, giving her a chance to speak, and then went on with difficulty. "But what you did to Luke..."

Lip saw her shudder, and heard his own voice drop nearly to a whisper. "That was murder. What you did to him, and Aki, was..."

Savage. Selfish. Cruel. So fucking hard to understand.

"I'll figure this out," he said. "Not with Ken. But I've got another idea. Just give me a little time. Please. Okay?"

Jen nodded, her expression bleak. As he turned to leave she sank into the sofa in the corner of the room, burying her face in her hands.

Lip left the room and shut the door behind him. His feet felt like they weighed a hundred pounds as he traveled down the hall. He reached the sad little lounge where Kel and Mark sat waiting, Kel in a chair and Mark on a small sofa. Fuck, he would have killed to be back at the real ARSI instead of this half-finished new fort.

"How's David?" he asked Kel.

Kel shook his head. "Not communicating. He's with Aki now."

Lip nodded and sat down on the sofa next to Mark.

"She's still fixated on Ken," he said quietly. "We have to do this."

He expected Kel's nod, but he was surprised by Mark's silence. Turning to his friend, he searched those dark eyes for the possessive anger that often came out in disagreements over Jen. There was nothing. Mark's eyes were tired and dull. His only answer was to wave a hand, like he didn't care anymore. They all knew he did. But there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Lip sighed and took out his phone, dialing Jackson.

#  27. Jin's Desert Adventure

The Sierra Highway was heaven. At least, at first it was. Racing right along its spine in Lip's car, Zeppelin blasting, miles of desert in every direction and hardly a sentient being around, Jin found himself with some seriously unexpected alone time.

It was hard to be a telepath. People sucked. They did. Humanity was like a big wet dirty mop, soggy with lies and stupidity and meanness and nothingness. You almost never got the goodness and the smarts in one place, or the smarts and honesty, or the honesty and the goodness.

Or if you did, you almost never got a sense of humor thrown in, or an original thought. It was all the same moping teens, frustrated women, men swinging their balls and guts around, and the worst greedy motherfuckers rising to the top, gobbling up as much as they could and crushing everyone beneath them on their way to the grave.

Fuck, _people_. They were the worst. And he had to hear them in his head, all the fucking time, all thinking about all the same bullshit everyone else was thinking about—God, that used to drive him crazy! It was damn hard to find somebody thinking something he hadn't heard someone else think before, and when he did it was usually a schizophrenic, or a child, or a Talent. Occasionally a real eccentric, an intellectual or an artist, would show something special. But shit, that was rare.

Jackson taught him to categorize people, to work on his own personal taxonomy of human minds.

"Do it well," he said, "and you'll know more about humanity than anyone has ever known."

Jin still remembered the gleam in Jackson's golden-brown eyes looking down at him, the note of envy and awe in his expression, and the pride that had swelled in his own chest.

It was a good project, that taxonomy. It kept him engaged with people, kept him from going mad with boredom, kept him from wanting to kill them all, and it helped him navigate individual minds more efficiently. Still, he only really enjoyed the lunatics, and the children, and the Talents.

Of course, there were those who defied even those categories. The ones he couldn't hear at all. Like Jackson. And Ken.

Ken. Jin had been close behind him—but not too close—since the little shit had yanked on some clothes and stormed out of the house with a barked order not to follow him.

Yeah, right.

First he trailed the kid into the city, where Ken parked his bike outside a fast food joint, went inside, and came back out with three bags. As Jin watched, Ken mowed through four burgers before taking out his phone. Ken spent the next half hour talking over the phone, quietly but with evident frustration, sometimes hanging up and eating fries as he waited for a call back.

At one point, to Jin's delight, Ken went back into the restaurant and returned with an extra-large milkshake. He sat astride the bike, his long legs akimbo in his slim black jeans, leaning slightly back with his body curled forward and one hand hung over a bike handle, cell phone dangling between his skinny fingers. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked down the shake, his brow furrowed with a look of concentration.

Jin watched intently. Now this shit was really getting interesting.

Jen and David back from the dead was one thing, yeah. But Jin was more concerned with last night, when Ken had popped a nosebleed and passed out on the floor with a fever so high it hurt to touch him. Now the little monster was scarfing down food like it disappeared before it hit his stomach.

Jin remembered eating like that. Gulping down calories like a giant training for a marathon, subconsciously anticipating an explosion of Talent that might take everything out of him.

And he remembered Ken drinking a milkshake like that the first night they'd met, wolfing down fast food in the car with Lip. Damn, looking back, the son of a bitch was a piece of work from the start, an infuriating enigma with those mismatched green eyes and all those pretty scars on that porcelain skin and the black hair and the low grumble of a voice and fuck, had Jin really gotten to hold him last night?

Ken left the city abruptly, scowling as he shoved his phone in his pocket. He was headed for ARSI, undoubtedly in defiance of what he'd been told. And here they were, a hundred miles up the highway headed for ground zero.

Ken drove that bike so fast Jin expected to have to peel him off the pavement any minute, and he never looked back. Never even paused.

Until he hit a rinky-dink little diner advertising late breakfast specials.

Jin parked the car and turned it off, then leaned back in his seat. His eyes grew distant for a moment as he mentally surveyed the place from the outside. Reaching in with his Talent, he felt out the eyes of two waitresses, a cook, a trucker, and a state trooper. All confirmed the presence of a certain psychotic demon brat with shields that made him invisible. The trooper thought he looked like a possible child killer or Satanist, which was pretty funny. But Ken did look scary in his own way, slouched in the corner with a stack of pancakes in front of him, glaring toward the entrance with those fucking eyes. Waiting.

The bell above the door rang when he entered, and Ken was ready with that glare. Those beautiful wicked eyes were burning into Jin's with such intensity it put his psychic defenses on alert every damn time. But then he couldn't help remembering the way they'd looked last night, calm and amused, staring at him across a small, small stretch of bedding. So close.

"So," Jin said as he slid into the booth opposite Ken. "Guess you don't do everything Aki tells you, after all."

Ken just glared at him and lifted an enormous bite of pancake to his mouth.

"What are you doing? You wanna shake her hand, or what?"

"Fuck off," Ken muttered, and shoveled in an even bigger bite.

"I can't let you do it," Jin said with a sigh, shaking his head, and reached for Ken's pie.

"That's _mine_ ," Ken growled around his mouthful, raising his fork like a dagger until Jin held his hands up in surrender. "And fuck you. Go home."

"I will. I'm just waiting for you to come with me."

The glare got meaner. It got scary mean. Homicidal, even.

But then Ken shoved the last bite of flapjacks into his mouth, and Jin instantly snickered at his chipmunk cheeks.

"Are those pancakes that good?" he asked.

"They're pancakes," Ken snapped. "Of course they're good." The green-eyed bastard shoved the empty plate away and dug into the pie. He went through it in about four bites.

"Can you even taste that?"

Ken tossed the fork down, threw a twenty on the table, and got up. Jin followed after him, whistling the theme from X-Files. "Hey," he suggested. "We could detour to Arizona, break into Area 51. Always wondered about it."

"Stop following me," Ken snarled over his shoulder as Jin trailed him to the inconspicuous corner of the lot where he'd parked the bike.

"I'm not. I just thought I'd check your tires."

Jin let Ken jump on the bike, and as he put on his helmet, Jin leaned down and groped the back tire. "Hmm. Looks good." He moved to the front. "Nice and plump. Wait a second..."

Jin pulled out his switchblade, flicked it open, and stabbed the front wheel.

For a long, eerie moment, there was no sound but the soft hiss of the deflating tire. And when it tapered off into a tiny little squeak, Ken slowly removed his helmet and stared at the limp rubber.

"Aw, that sucks," Jin groaned. "You've got a flat."

Ken swung his leg back over the bike and planted both feet in the gravel with a crunch, his slim body casting a long, ragged shadow across the rocks. His shoulders and chest rose and fell slightly, his cheeks pink, his mismatched eyes united in cold fury.

Goddamn scary child of Satan motherfucker. Jin strained to maintain his innocent, concerned expression as Ken stepped in front of him and held him in that cool, terrifying stare.

"What are you gonna do?" Jin asked.

"I'll hitch," Ken said at last, speaking through his teeth.

"Come on," Jin cajoled. "My car's right there. Come—"

He gave up with a smirk as the kid shoved past him, bony shoulder knocking right into his.

Let the kid hitch. Perfect. It was about time he learned how annoying a telepath could be. Jin leaned against Ken's disabled bike with satisfaction, amazed that the kid would underestimate him like this. Within minutes Ken was climbing into a truck driver's cab.

Once the truck had left the lot, Jin dialed Jackson. "No worries," Jin told him. "He won't get near her. I'll catch up with him tonight."

#  28. Aki Faces Facts

Aki was trying to take this one moment at a time, but it was messing with him.

David was not himself.

Nothing was wrong with him physically. He looked as healthy as the day he'd died. He looked just like Luke used to look before he'd wasted away. His dark hair had the same vital sheen. His skin was firm and creamy. There were the faint shadows under his deep green eyes, just that vague touch of blue beneath the inner corners, but David had always had those. All in all, he looked good. Death hadn't robbed him of his muscle tone, or his youth, or his looks.

But the Irish boy, now slouched in a chair in the corner of a pitifully under-furnished ARSI dorm, hadn't spoken a word since Aki had brought him in. His faraway gaze was sometimes cold and dead, sometimes dark and frightening, and sometimes it landed on Aki with untranslatable intensity.

Aki couldn't shake the cold horror that had come over him in the clinic. The whole evening kept playing on a loop in his head. The chilling sound of movement within the morgue. Finding David curled and gasping on the slab. Luke, Luke, _Luke_ , lying there as wasted and lifeless as ever, and David crumpling over him...

And then, getting David in the car and explaining everything that had happened since he'd been gone. Explaining what had happened to his twin.

It was a new nightmare come true, confessing to David. Describing how Luke had slipped right through his fingers.

"I tried everything I could," Aki told him in a flat, detached voice, the only way he could speak without breaking down. "But I couldn't stop it. It was like he was already dead. I couldn't find anything left of him. And then he died."

"Where was Dylan?"

This was David's first question, spoken in a rough, raspy voice, his body still dry and stiff. Now and then a tremor ran through him, nerves waking up.

Aki hadn't known what to say. As angry as he was at Dylan, the last thing he wanted was more discord. He tried to be honest in as generous a manner as he could. "Your death got to him. When we told him what happened, it was like he turned into a different person. Grief, I guess."

"So?"

"So, he...wasn't getting along with Luke, when Jen hit." Shivering inwardly under David's hard stare, he reluctantly elaborated, "He thinks Luke and I should have stopped you. Especially Luke. He stopped talking to us. Luke was heartbroken."

David's gaze moved away. He stared straight ahead, rigid in his seat.

"I thought it would get better," Aki went on, "but we never got a chance. When Luke came back from Jen, in the shape he was in, there was no way to work it out. And then he died and Dylan went to Ireland."

David said nothing to this. He merely muttered, "Get me away from here."

Until there was a plan of action, they couldn't stray far from Lip, Kel and Mark. So here they were, at the ARSI headquarters-in-progress, waiting to decide what to do. David hadn't spoken again.

Aki glanced at the Irish boy again and took a deep breath. He knew this would happen. He'd seen it coming. He'd dreaded it from the moment he heard they would be moving from Europe to California and taking the bodies with them. He just knew it. Okay, so maybe he only knew it because he was twisted and paranoid and it was literally the stuff of his nightmares, but that just made it worse, didn't it?

But this wasn't even the worst part of the nightmare. No, Jen waking up was bad. David waking up, well, it was too soon to tell what that was. But the really fucked up part was still to come.

Because now here they were in their shitty new half-brained facilities with their resources still en route from the old ARSI headquarters in Europe, and if Jen went on the warpath, what the hell were they supposed to do? He'd held her off once, but it took all he had. No chance he could pull that off again.

"Fuck," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Aki."

Aki looked quickly at him. "Hey."

David stared back at him, his eyes burning with that intensity Luke had never had, the subtle but all-consuming determination that had always made it easy to tell them apart despite their identical looks. But there was something else in his eyes, now. Something wrong.

"I need to be dead," he said, very quietly and very coldly.

Aki didn't know what to say.

The echoes of David's so-called suicide hadn't even faded yet. The situation was still _happening._ It was the reason Dylan's relationship with Luke and Aki had imploded. It was the reason Luke was left on his own after Jen took Aki down. It was part of the reason, Aki believed, that Luke had crumpled and folded and died—without his twin, what else could have happened? Aki obviously wasn't up to the task of saving him.

But Aki couldn't blame David. At least, he tried not to. The twins had taught him a lot about the limits of the mind and soul, and he knew how far they'd been pushed beyond those limits. How could he blame them for dying after he'd failed to help them survive?

"Aki," David said at last, his teeth clenched. "I need. To be. Dead."

_"Wakatteiru_ ," Aki muttered, turning away and slowly rubbing a hand over his face. "I understand." Goddammit. What the hell did David expect him to do?

This had to be some kind of sick joke. All of it.

There was a knock at the door. David didn't move, but his eyes scorched a slow path from the wall to the entrance.

_A fucking knock_ , Aki thought distractedly. They hadn't even started installing the system they'd gotten used to in France, and the security reminded him more of a mid-range hotel than a facility meant to hold a bunch of fucking Talents. "Who is it?" he demanded.

"Lip."

To Aki's surprise, David rose from the chair and headed for the door.

"David," Lip said when the door opened, and might have embraced the younger man if David hadn't grabbed him by the shirt first.

Aki had an arm between them in an instant, but he let David slam the Australian against the wall. He could have grabbed him and pulled him back, but he didn't want to use force with David unless he had to. He pressed his hand against the Irish boy's hard chest, urging him back, but David's feet were planted and his eyes were locked intently on Lip's.

"Where's Dylan?" David demanded.

"Dylan's on his way from Ireland," Lip replied carefully. "He didn't have anything to do with this."

David sneered and shoved away from Lip, going back into the room and slamming the door.

Lip stared at the door for a moment before he looked at Aki. The laid-back blond looked as stressed as Aki had ever seen him, tired and slightly pale, with faint purple shadows under his blue eyes. And his brow was furrowed in a way that warned Aki a whole lot of well-intentioned concern was coming his way. But at least Lip didn't ask stupid questions like _are you okay_ or _how are you feeling_.

"You don't have to do this," Lip said. "You can leave."

Aki ignored that. "He's pissed."

"Be careful. We don't know what this might have done to his mind. Or his Talent"

Aki understood that already. Trauma had unpredictable effects on Talents. He was prepared for anything. "What the fuck happened?"

Lip shook his head, frowning, and reached up to rub his brow. "All we know is we can't find Sky."

It took a moment for that to settle in, and when it did, Aki exhaled and covered his face with both hands. "What does that mean," he asked blankly.

"We don't know."

"Did he do this?"

"We don't know."

_"Iya_..." Aki muttered, dropping his hands and looking down the hall. What reason would Sky have? "Maybe he's in trouble. What if it was, I don't know, KGA, or..."

"It's possible. But no. KGA wouldn't. It's not their style. It really looks like..." Lip hesitated, but it was clear what he thought. The hypercognitive was rarely wrong when he had a hunch. That was the thing about his kind of brilliance. Sometimes Lip just didn't have the luxury of giving people the benefit of the doubt.

"Okay." Aki crossed his arms, feeling tired and like he would never sleep. Sky. Fucking Sky. Whatever the reason... "What about her? I guess she hasn't fucked anyone up yet?"

"Yeah, no. But, about that." Lip frowned, looking at the floor in front of his feet. "We're in some trouble here, mate."

Aki narrowed his eyes and tried to ignore the way his heart started beating faster when he thought about what Jen could do if she wanted to. What she had done when she wanted to. "Trouble how?"

"We can't handle this. We're asking Jackson for help."

_"Haa_?" For a moment Aki didn't comprehend what the Australian was saying, and then he turned on him in astonishment. "Asking Jackson for help with what?"

"Money. And Jen."

Aki shook his head, baffled. Money, fine. But what help could Jackson and his shady team of fugitives have to offer them that would be worth granting access to Jen?

"We need outside support, Aki. He was head of research at KGA. He's got a record of turning broken Talents around."

"Pretty good at getting his dick sucked, too, isn't he?" Aki snapped. "What the fuck are you thinking? Bunch of psychic we don't trust from the organization we've been hiding from, and you want to give them _her_?"

"I know it sounds bad..."

_"Sounds_ _bad_?" Aki couldn't understand this. They were handing over a nuclear bomb to some shady asshole just because they didn't know how to deal with it? "You know Jackson's into Ken, right? You do remember that, how Ken thinks they're after him? You forgetting she was after him, too? Jesus Christ, Lip..."

"We don't have a choice, Aki! Look." Lip raked his hands through his hair, looking pained. "We're stretched pretty fuckin' thin here. Me, Mark, and Kel, we can't handle this. Not just her, but David. We don't even know yet what kinda shape he's in. And yeah, she's after Ken, I know. That's why we need some help, okay? This is all we've got."

There was that bleak feeling again. He did trust Lip. If the Australian said this was the best option, it probably was.

Aki sighed and grudgingly consented. "Then Ken stays away. Ken stays out of all of this. As far as she's concerned, he doesn't exist, Lip."

"Of course," Lip said, every inch of his face pleading for Aki's trust. "That's why we're doing this."

"And if she fucks with him, or if she fucks with David, or..." His chest and throat were tight and his face was tingling faintly. Fuck, he had to come out and say it, didn't he? He had to make sure Lip knew why this was so important. "I can't protect them," he said, forcing the words out. They felt like iron weights on his tongue. "I can't fight a psychic. I can't even block one anymore."

Lip exhaled softly, lifting a hand and pulling it slowly down his face.

"You can't forget what she did to me," Aki said roughly. "Don't take some dumb risk thinking I can help if it goes wrong. Just because I lived, and I look okay sometimes, doesn't mean you can count on me. There's nothing left..." he jabbed his fingers into his own temple, disgust exploding in his voice. "There's nothing _left_ here to help with, all right?"

He jerked slightly when Lip grabbed his shoulders, and only then realized that he was trembling, the shame of it all burning under his skin. After drawing a long, deliberate breath and exhaling slowly, he met Lip's deep, serious stare and snapped, "What?"

"I will _never_ forget what she did to you." Lip squeezed his shoulders hard. " _Never_. And I know where you're at. I understand."

Aki felt his anger slowly fading as he absorbed the intense sincerity in Lip's blue eyes and in his voice. Not that it felt any better, not being angry. "Okay," he muttered.

"I want you to get David out of here. Go back to the city, help keep track of Ken. Can you do that?"

Aki nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay." Lip pulled him in for a brotherly hug, and kissed Aki's cheek before he pulled away. "Gonna be okay, mate."

Aki nodded again, and turned away.

David was standing at the little sink, staring in the mirror. He met Aki's eyes in the reflection.

Aki's heart clenched. For a brief moment, he saw Luke there in the glass. The green eyes and sensual lips, the elegant brows, high cheekbones and fine jawline the O'Reilly brothers shared, were infused with the whisper of heartbreak that had always haunted Luke's face.

But then David's eyes narrowed slightly, his lips went firm, and he was himself again.

"Let's get out of here," Aki said. "Okay?"

David turned from the mirror and stared him down.

"David, I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do."

"Nothin'." David's vicious tone cut through the room, his familiarly strange Irish accent touching a bittersweet nerve in Aki. "Nothin'. Can't even send me back." He held out his arms as though offering wounds for inspection. "This body won't let me. This _Talent_ ," he added with a snarl.

Aki forced himself not to look away from David's unwavering gaze. "I'm sorry you feel like this."

"What do you want? What do _they_ want?" Without waiting for a reply, David spat, "How 'bout you just put me back in that fuckin' coffin, then? Just lock it up. Lock me up in the dark."

Then, with a smooth grace that made him seem almost calm, he turned and put his fist through the mirror.

"There!" David shouted as Aki jumped to pull him back from the glass, and he thrust his hand in the air. "Not a scratch, see? You tell that to Dylan! Not goin' anywhere now, am I?"

As Aki put his arms around David's rigid body, trying to pull him toward the part of the room with less furniture to kick or throw, the Irish boy threw his head back and screamed.

#  29. Ken Gets a Room

At the edge of the truck stop parking lot, Ken turned to shoot one last glare over his shoulder. To his annoyance, the driver had already disappeared behind the windshield, probably settled into the bunk behind the front seat.

"Shithead," Ken muttered, facing the road again.

Not far ahead was a bright yellow and green motel sign, and that was all he had, he guessed, since the driver had chosen to get sleepy in the middle of the fucking desert.

He thought he'd be at ARSI by now. But between the roadblocks, the cops looking for some stupid fugitive, the detours, and the trucker getting lost trying to get around everything, the journey had stretched on and on. And now what was Ken supposed to do, steal his truck?

Anyway, he was exhausted. Unusually exhausted. Stopping for one night was okay. Let the others think he wasn't gonna show up. Then they wouldn't try to stop him.

Jin was right. Ken had been told in no uncertain terms to stay away from ARSI.

"Better yet," Lip had said when he called that morning, "start moving in the opposite direction."

Whatever. How was he supposed to turn and run when Aki was in there with her? With _her_! They couldn't actually expect him to stay away. After what she'd done last time? After she'd flayed his brain because Aki had refused to give up anything about Ken?

Idiot. Ken felt an ache in his chest thinking about it, about Aki before and after.

Anyway. Ken wasn't about to return the favor by leaving him alone with her. And besides, what was the big deal? They all talked about her like she was God or something. But she hadn't gotten to him. She hadn't been able to defeat Aki. And Aki wasn't even a psychic.

She was cruel, and she was strong, but she couldn't do everything. Ken wasn't scared of her.

But at the moment, he was tired. Exhausted.

As bad as he wanted to get to ARSI, there wasn't much more he could do about it tonight except stand by the highway and try to hitch another ride, and who knew how long that would take? Just a nap first, and then he'd decide what to do.

A bell above the door jingled as he entered the office. It was a weird room, with wood paneled walls and dark orange carpet tramped down with use. On one side of the room, a television was playing a late-night comedy show. Behind the desk, an older woman in huge eyeglasses was dozing in an ancient-looking armchair.

Ken looked at her for a moment, taking in her big floral dress and mass of curly gray hair, her plump and doughy arms and sagging chin. There was something kind of nice about the way she looked, something comfortable.

But she was asleep. He shifted on his feet awkwardly, looking at the wall of keys behind her, then back at the bell above the door, and then back at her again. After a moment he tried to clear his throat the way people sometimes did to get attention.

It didn't work. The woman dozed on.

"Excuse me," Ken said loudly to no avail, and then his phone buzzed. He grabbed it from his pocket, saw Aki's name, and picked up.

"Are you okay?" he blurted, even though Luke had once told him that was a stupidly vague question to ask when there was an obvious problem.

"Where are you?" Aki asked.

"Uh, I'm at home?" Why hadn't he been ready for that question? "Eating. Pancakes." He pressed his palm against his forehead, closing his eyes and scowling.

"Jesus, Ken," Aki muttered.

"I'm at a motel!" Ken exclaimed. "I'm just going to sleep. _God_ ," he added for emphasis. He'd picked that up on TV recently.

"If you're headed for ARSI, Ken, I don't..." Aki trailed off with a tense sigh. "Look, I'm on the way back to Los Angeles with David."

"Oh." Good. That was good. "Away from her? She's staying there?"

"She's not coming with me," Aki said drily. He sounded weird. Of course he sounded weird. "Lip has some plan. I'll talk to you about it later. Anyway, listen. Is Jin with you?"

"Why would Jin be with me?" Ken burst out, more loudly than he meant.

The woman behind the counter woke up, her arms flailing at the counter. It startled Ken, and he jumped back with a curse, causing her to scream slightly.

"No," he said hurriedly, holding up a hand in innocence. "I mean, yeah, hi..."

"What just happened?" Aki asked.

"I woke...hang on." He lowered the phone. "I'm sorry. Do you have..." he trailed off for a moment, shrinking beneath her cranky, squinting glare and the way she was shaking her head in disapproval. "I, uh...I just..."

"Coulda had a heart attack!" the woman barked, and straightened her dress with a huff. "What do you need?"

"A room."

"Only one room left. King bed. No smoking."

"Yes, please. I mean. Yes, I'll take it. If that's okay."

She reached for a pen and a notepad, and then squinted up at him. Her face softened somewhat, though she still looked cranky. "ID. Fill this out and sign the bottom."

Ken did as she asked, setting the phone on the desk and hurriedly filling in his fake name and address.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," he said uncertainly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"That's all right, honey." She peered closely at his ID. "You sure don't look twenty-three."

He paused mid signature. "How old do I look?"

"Look about seventeen."

"Oh." That wasn't so bad. Anyway, her glasses probably didn't work that well. He probably looked, like, twenty.

"All right, here you go." She held out the key.

"Thank you. Goodnight. Sorry again." Ken gave her another look he hoped was apologetic and left the office, lifting the phone to his ear again. "I'm sorry."

"That's all right." There was a little amusement in Aki's tone, laid thinly on top of the grim tiredness for a moment before it dissolved. "I guess you haven't seen Sky."

"No." Ken focused again on the spot where he usually felt Sky, a spot he hadn't had to think of much since Sky had found some kind of happy routine at ARSI—even left the country with Kel a few times, leaving Ken in peace.

Just like earlier in the day, he felt the same distant throbbing of distress. And guilt.

"You think he's okay? I mean." Aki hesitated. "You think he..."

"I don't know anything," Ken said. "I don't know why he would do it. But he might have."

"Yeah," Aki muttered tiredly, and Ken understood. It was all fucked up.

"Is...David okay?"

"No." Aki sighed. "I don't know. Maybe." There was another pause, and then Aki said again, "Ken, stay away from ARSI."

"I'm not going to ARSI," Ken said impatiently. "I mean I was thinking about it. But I won't now." He looked up at the sky, which was black. Millions of stars were visible. He hadn't seen so many since he'd walked along the highway in Romania, looking up with one eye.

"I'll come back to Los Angeles tomorrow," he told Aki. "I'll meet you."

"Thanks, Ken," he said. "Good. Sleep well and be careful. I'll see you soon."

Ken hung up and sighed heavily. This wasn't fun.

This wasn't fun at all. He was hot, and tired, and his forehead felt damp again and he fucking hated that. He wanted a cool shower and a bed.

He rubbed his eyes and continued down the walkway, heading up the steps to room twelve.

#  30. Burn!

Jin was pushing it this time. He knew it. And it was hard to wipe the grin off his face when he heard the door open and shut.

For a minute or two he had considered settling in for a nice soak in the tub, but that was getting a little played out, he thought. So instead he lounged around in wait, careful not to muss anything up that would give him away, and then he ducked into the bathroom and hid himself behind the shower curtain.

The first thing he heard was a long sigh and the creak of bedsprings.

Jin leaned slowly against the wall, smirking as he pictured Ken sitting on the edge of the bed, scowling at the dark television set, brooding at the wall.

Then again, Jin thought suddenly, maybe Ken didn't scowl and brood when he was alone. Maybe he was making a face Jin had never seen. Maybe he had his face in his hands. Maybe he was staring up at the ceiling looking worried and lost.

The trucker Ken had hitched with hadn't trusted the raven-haired goblin. Had kept one eye on the road and one on Ken, wondering if the beautiful kid with the creepy mismatched green eyes and blank face would pull a knife on him. The trucker wouldn't have even picked Ken up, if Jin hadn't given him a nudge.

Wouldn't have pulled over right down the road from here, either. Jin's smirk returned. And he definitely wouldn't have gotten so lost today. Just like those state troopers wouldn't have gotten all worked up and put up all those roadblocks.

The old lady at the front desk had taken a more kindly interest in Ken. She was on the computer now, looking through the latest pictures of missing kids and runaways. Ken had looked sweeter in her eyes than Jin had ever seen him, hunching his shoulders and ducking his chin shyly as he apologized for scaring her. She'd grandma'd him good.

The bed springs creaked again, and Jin readied himself. But now he was kind of scared. Maybe spooking a tired and stressed out Ken wasn't the best idea. But then, the allure of seeing what would happen was strong...

Ken flicked on the light for the bathroom and went to the sink, leaning heavily on his hands, his head hanging. After a few moments, he slowly straightened and pulled back the shower curtain.

"Boo!" Jin exclaimed, and just barely managed to duck Ken's swing. "Whoa."

"Shithead," Ken shouted.

One look at that face and Jin was wholly, entirely sorry for jumping out and scaring him.

Ken had a strange glow, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright and glossy with fever. It was the same look he'd had the night before, but it was even weirder now. Ken's eyes weren't just angry. He looked uneasy, impatient, uncertain, and exhausted.

Something was up with this kid. Something was up with him right now. And he didn't even seem to know it.

"What are you doing here?" Ken hissed.

"Making sure you don't get to ARSI," Jin said casually, and stepped out of the tub, holding up his hands as though a sheriff had him at gunpoint. "Like I said."

Ken's fine features twisted into a scowl. "Why?" His voice had that real sharp bite to it now, the one that meant Jin was starting to get under his skin. Music to a telepath's ears.

"No one else is gonna stop you," Jin said sweetly.

"Bullshit," Ken spat, and stabbed his finger into Jin's chest the way Jin kind of liked for some reason. But then he went in a different direction. "I know Jackson did this."

An awkward pause followed. That wasn't what Jin expected to hear. He squinted. "Did what?"

"You know what," Ken snapped.

He didn't, and it took him another moment to even suggest the only obvious 'what' it could be at the moment. "Jen and David?"

Ken only glared.

That made no sense. Jin scoffed and shook his head. "Nah. Your wacko brother—"

"Why?" Ken shouted suddenly. "Why would he do that?"

"Fuck knows." Jin held out his hands, mystified. "Why the hell would Jackson?"

"You think you're smarter than me. You think you and your fucking boss are all smarter than Lip and Mark and everything. You think they're fucking stupid."

"What—"

"They're _not_ fucking stupid!" Ken yelled. "He wants my Talent. You think I don't know that?" Furious, Ken shoved Jin's chest. "Fuck you and your fucking team!"

"Hang on!" Jin struggled to connect the dots Ken was throwing at him, noting warily that Ken's hands were piping hot. "You think Jackson woke up Jen and David, to get to your Talent?"

"My Talent," Ken snarled. " _Her_ Talent. And David to keep them busy."

Jin blinked, staring at him. Yeah, it kind of made sense, he could see that. Sort of. Sure.

Actually, it more than sort of made sense. In fact, it was exactly the kind of implausible Machiavellian bullshit Jackson performed so elegantly.

But waking up David and Ken would require a psychic, and Vanni hadn't been at ARSI last night. Sky was the only one who could have done it.

"No," Jin dismissed again, shaking his head. "Vanni was in New York last night. And I was with you. And Jackson can't do that shit."

"Liar."

"I'm not fucking lying," Jin retorted, bristling. "I'm not. Jackson didn't do it."

"How do you know?"

"I would know if he did."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Oh, really, genius? Why wouldn't I know?"

"Because he's a liar. And he lies to you."

Now Jin was really annoyed. "You've met him once. How would you know he's a liar?"

"I probably know him better than you do."

"How?" Jin scoffed.

"Because I don't suck his dick," Ken burst out. "I don't do whatever he says. He's not my _owner_."

For a moment Jin wanted to slap him in the jaw, though he didn't know if he was more angry or confused. Where did Ken get off thinking he knew anything about him and Jackson, or Vanni or Rin, or how they worked?

Of course, given the ugly way he'd met them that one night in the train yard, Jin didn't expect him to like them. But what the fuck did he know about them? What did he think he knew?

Was this some bullshit to do with his Talent? Was he really a telepath? Was he a precog? Or did he just know something Jin didn't? He sure was acting like it. But how could that be? Jin was the one with a precog on his side, not Ken.

Seriously. How could he know something Jin didn't?

"You sound jealous," Jin said, feigning innocence to disguise how unsettled he was. "Does it bother you that I suck his dick?"

"I don't care what goes in your mouth," Ken shot back. "But I'm not a part of your stupid game. Fuck you, and fuck your boss, and fuck your team. You can all go back to KGA and _die_ , for all I care."

It shouldn't have stung. But it felt like a kick in the nuts. Jin was so irrationally pissed off that he grabbed the front of Ken's shirt and swung him around to slam him against the wall beside the door—so pissed that he ignored how hot Ken's body was, how it felt like it was actually burning him through their clothes.

"What?" Ken taunted, his cheeks flushed. "You wanted me in your cult?" His lips curled with scorn. "I'm not like you. I fought to be on my own. Not to be controlled by someone who says he knows things. Not to let him use my Talent and fuck me in the ass."

"Yeah?" Jin was pissed. He was fucking pissed. He wanted to punch the kid right in that smart mouth. With his mouth. Which didn't make sense. Well, it kind of made sense. "Because you're doing _fine_. Burning yourself alive 'cause you're too fucking stubborn to admit you don't know shit about that Talent and you can't handle it on your own."

"You don't know what I can do," Ken hissed. "But I'd rather burn up than be someone's _pet_."

"Fuck you, Ken!" Jin exploded, pulling him from the wall to slam him against it again.

Not a great idea. Ken reached up and shoved his face, and goddammit, that settled it.

Whatever else the kid was, he was definitely a pyro.

Jin stumbled back, grunting in pain as Ken's palm and fingers seared his flesh, right across his left cheek and the corner of his mouth, part of his nose, his jaw, his earlobe, across his eyelid and brow.

And then Ken was collapsing, his eyes rolling back and his hands scorching a path down Jin's chest and stomach, burning through his T-shirt and charring his jeans before Jin could move away.

"Fuck!" Jin hissed, glancing in the mirror at the crimson handprint on his face, the smoking hole in his shirt and the angry red skin beneath. But then he turned and looked at Ken trembling and gasping on the floor, and dammit, this was happening, wasn't it?

Jin grabbed his phone and dialed Jackson, then set it on the counter and dropped down beside the passed-out human torch for the second time in two days. He tried to avoid Ken's skin as he stripped the kid's shirt off, but though it was hot, it didn't seem like there was much danger of burning except for those hands, which were still smoldering with the bits of fabric they'd taken away from Jin's shirt and jeans.

"Jesus, Jackson..." The phone continued to ring. He worked on jerking Ken's pants off with one hand while the other fumbled to plug the bathtub and start the cold tap running.

The call failed, and Jin swore under his breath. There was no way Jackson hadn't seen this one coming. So, what, the prophet thought Jin was fit to handle it on his own? Shit. He ripped Ken's shoes and socks off and finished the jeans, then grabbed his boxers.

"Sorry, kid," he muttered as he pulled them off with quick efficiency. "Wine and dine you later."

He lifted Ken up and laid him down in the tub, watching out for those hands, and hooked his shoulders over the edge to make sure his face didn't end up underwater before rushing from the room.

He dialed Jackson again as he broke into the janitor's closet to retrieve a large garbage bag. There was still no answer as he filled the bag at the ice machine and hauled the freezing load back to the room.

Under the avalanche of ice cubes, Ken woke up with a harsh gasp. The tub began to steam immediately, and Ken looked at his own blistered palms in dazed horror. His cheeks were dark red, his face dripping with sweat, and Jin could hear his thoughts again. They were muddled and rushed, and they were all about how hot everything was getting inside.

"Don't move," Jin ordered, and left the room again for more ice. He called Jackson once more, and finally, finally the man picked up.

"He's a pyro," Jin blurted. "Burned half my face off. He's in there fuckin' frying himself. What do I do?"

"You know what to do," Jackson said, almost apathetically. "Keep him cool. Talk him down. Help him find his center."

"Oh," Jin said scathingly. Right. Like he'd done it a bunch of times. Like Jackson wasn't the one who'd talked the pyros through it, hypnotized them into constructing some secret place deep in their minds where they could cool themselves down. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Jin," Jackson said calmly, the condescending bastard. "When he approaches delirium, take advantage and hypnotize him. Talk him through it. Tell him to visualize ice and snow. Talk him into imagining cold sensations on his skin. If you can't get under his shields, guide him through constructing a safe place in his mind. Tell him how to change the temperature. Then let him sleep, and make sure he eats tomorrow." Jackson paused, probably checking his watch like a prick. "You'll have to handle this alone. I'm on my way to ARSI."

Jin's eyes drifted from the ice tumbling into the garbage bag and toward Ken's room. On his way to ARSI? "Why?"

"They've asked for my help with Jen."

Jin got a funny feeling. Ken was wrong, surely, about Jackson's involvement in Jen and David waking up.

Unless maybe he wasn't.

"Ken says we did this," Jin announced, his eyes narrowed on the rattling stream of ice. "That true?"

"Why would Ken think that?" Jackson asked placidly.

It was the tone the precognitive Talent took when Jin went looking for an answer he didn't really want, or an answer Jackson needed to withhold in order to preserve one of his intricate plans.

It wasn't rare for Jackson to withhold knowledge from him. He dealt with the future, and Jin hated knowing the future. Anyway, Jackson couldn't give it all away. There were times when telling his Talents what he'd seen of the future was enough to change it, forcing him to recalibrate his plans. Working for a precog meant living with omission and deception. But Jackson had worked hard for his Talents' trust, and he had it. Mostly.

Not right now, though. This was different. This wasn't the future they were talking about. If Ken was right, Jin had unknowingly helped push Sky to do what he did.

Jin remembered the day he'd met with Jackson and Vanni in LA, and Jackson had sent them off to find Sky for some reconnaissance. Jin was just supposed to extract a bunch of intel on ARSI, and Vanni was there to give him cover, because it was kind of hard to plunder an empath's head without getting caught, unless you had another empath to smooth the way.

But if Ken was right, they'd done something else to Sky that day. What if Vanni planted some weird urge in Sky's head, some random emotional impulse designed to drive him toward David and Jen in their crypts? It would be a weird mission for an empath, but it wouldn't be the first time Vanni had redefined his Talent.

"When I worked on Sky," Jin pressed, watching the bag fill up. "Got the ARSI intel, and everything. What was Vanni doing?"

"Jin, did I give you the impression that helping Ken through his manifestation was an option?"

"You're telling me we didn't have anything to do with the zombie revival?"

"We have something to do with everything that involves us," Jackson said drily, knowing without a doubt how such platitudes made the telepath seethe. "Take care of Ken."

The call ended.

Jin put his phone away, hoisted the ice over his shoulder and turned back toward the room, cursing under his breath.

Ken was right.

Jin knew it from the way Jackson was lying to him in that self-assured and paternal way. Ken was right. Somehow, some way, Jackson had orchestrated this resurrection and set up Sky to take the fall. But what about the motive? Was Ken right about that, too?

A funny feeling crept through Jin's torso, one he'd started getting lately for no reason. Every time he thought of Jackson and Ken at the same time there was a quick swell of irritating discomfort.

Ken was part of Jackson's scheme. Jin knew that. It just wasn't his problem. It didn't have anything to do with him. Why did Ken keep trying to drag him into it? Why did Jackson?

Countless possible answers rose up and disappeared on the surface of his mind, getting him all worked up and frustrated. So he put his shields to use, cleared them away, and stalked back into the bathroom.

Ken was panting in the tub, his head thrown back and his features contorted. The ice in the water had nearly all melted, and his white skin was flushed in large patches all over his face, arms, and chest, making his scars stand out much more than usual—the crisscrossed lacerations, the tangled crooked lines, the ambiguous blotches that decorated every visible inch of his body.

"Hey," Jin said, setting the ice by the tub and crouching beside him. "What's the matter? You hot or cold?"

Ken looked at Jin, sort of, with dazed, unfocused eyes. One dark green, one pale green, searching the air in front of him for an explanation of what was happening to him.

Jin's heart growled in his chest. Stupid thing. He reached out and felt Ken's cheek with the back of his hand.

"All right, kid," he murmured. "I got you."

#  31. O'Reilly Family Reunion

David didn't speak for the entire drive back to Los Angeles. And when Aki parked the car beside the house, David didn't move to get out.

They sat in silence for several minutes. Aki tried to center himself, to decide on something to say.

At last he said, "I'm sorry, David."

"Will you help me die?"

"I don't know." Aki sighed softly and rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't know."

David was silent again.

"I missed you," Aki said, awkwardly but sincerely. It felt strange that he hadn't said it yet.

"Well, I'm still gone," David said flatly.

Aki nodded, looking straight ahead in misery. It was true. He could tell. David wasn't like this. Even in the worst times, David wasn't cold, or mean, or bitter. No, David was like Dylan. They had always been able to laugh at the cruelty of life. It was a bitter laugh, but they could share it.

They were always so strong, Dylan and David, separately, in their own ways. Aki had always admired them. Especially David, who had kept Luke alive and sane for all those years, he knew, by sheer force of spirit.

This wasn't David, this sneering, hopeless revenant.

"You can't do anything for me," David said now. "So don't think you can."

"I'll think what I want," Aki said quietly.

Maybe it was true. Maybe he couldn't. But there was no way he wouldn't try.

David got out of the car and slammed the door shut.

"David," Aki groaned, getting out of the car. "Look, I know you don't want to be here, but you are, so..."

He trailed off and let David storm into the house.

Try. Fail. He'd been here before.

Aki pulled out his phone. Dylan had tried to call him again. His chest tightened with sudden desperation. Fucking Dylan. Why did he have to be such an idiot? Why couldn't he have been here for this?

No, it was worse than that. Even if he were here, there was still all that blood on the ground. There was still that grudge between them. David didn't know. He had, of course, missed the aftermath of his suicide. He hadn't been there when the warmth left Dylan's face and he turned his back, blaming everyone for what had happened. Blaming Luke.

Taking a deep breath, Aki looked up at the sky and then around the green lawn surrounding their bungalow. And then he blinked.

He'd been so focused on David, he'd missed the gleaming black motorcycle parked farther up the driveway, beside the house.

Sky, maybe. He moved quickly toward the house, frowning when he got close enough to hear David speaking in a quick, quiet, angry tone.

Then he stepped inside, and his heart clenched.

"Thought it was his fault?" David was saying, his strange Irish dialect crackling with anger. "Thought he coulda tried harder? Coulda saved me? You thought he just let me die, what, 'cause he was lazy? 'Cause he didn't care enough about me? Is that right, Dylan? Yeah, I can see it. I can tell."

Dylan was standing on the other side of the room, in front of the glass windows overlooking the rolling hills and the blue sea. The two were unmistakably brothers, but Dylan had always had a wilder look to him. Where David and Luke looked like elegant marble sculptures, their features smooth and coolly proportioned, Dylan's face was gaunt and angular, and his wide green eyes and full lips were disarmingly expressive, almost unsettlingly sensual.

When Aki stepped into the room, Dylan caught his eyes and held them with an expression of helpless regret, and it tore at Aki's chest.

But David's eyes didn't waver from his older brother. He was glaring at Dylan so fiercely that if Aki didn't know them, he would mistake the look in his eyes for hatred.

"Don't act like it was grief," David went on. "You judged. Blamed Aki, blamed Luke. Blamed me. As if you knew anything about it. As if you could have fixed it. As if you think we didn't try. You were always so _fuckin'_ blind."

Dylan looked like he wanted to speak, but couldn't commit to any words. David's fury was overwhelming.

"Jesus, turnin' your back on 'im, Dylan, how _could_ you? Ain't that what you did?" David's expression was gouged with pain. "Made him ashamed, over my death?"

"I just wanted you to make it, David," Dylan said, "I'm sorry I let you down. I'm fuckin' sorry, and I wish I could go back."

David's face was contorted with scorn. "No," he said. "No, you didn't didn't let _me_ down, you selfish, self-righteous fuckin' cunt."

Maybe it was because Aki himself was a fighter that he could see the urge for violence roll almost imperceptibly through David's body. He discreetly sidled to where he would have a clean path through the furniture to get between the brothers if he needed to.

"That's all you have to say for it?" David shouted suddenly, his fists clenched at his sides. "Answer me! I don't want your fuckin' sorry, with him still shriveled up in that little box, you..."

David lunged without warning, but Aki was ready. He caught the surviving twin around the shoulders, yanking him back just before he could get to Dylan.

"Stop, David, stop," he ordered.

"Let him go," Dylan said sharply.

"Why?" Aki demanded, wrestling David to his knees. "What? Let him beat you so you feel better? Just go outside." He glared at Dylan until he unhappily complied, and when he was gone, Aki turned back to Luke's twin. "David. Come on. Not now. Please."

"If I see 'im, I'll hurt 'im," David growled, his body rigid and frighteningly strong in Aki's arms.

"Okay. Just..."

Just what? In the night and day that David had been back, he'd shown nothing but rage. After that one painful moment in the morgue, when he had embraced Luke's body and stroked his dead face and collapsed in voiceless despair, he had been a vicious apparition, and Aki didn't know what else was left in him.

What could he tell this shadow version of his friend, of Luke's twin? Go take a nap?

He released David slowly, at a loss.

"You, too," David said roughly, and Aki heard tears in his voice.

"What?"

"Leave!"

Outside, he found Dylan at the far end of the driveway, standing tense and restless, arms crossed.

_Don't hit him_ , Aki commanded himself, feeling his fists clenched as his legs carried him purposefully toward the man who had once been one of his dearest friends, the man Luke had idolized and envied for his strength and humor, the man David had loved best after Luke. _This isn't his fault_ , he told himself. And Luke wasn't Dylan's fault, either. But Aki knew how David felt. He knew it all too well.

This wasn't the time to let his feelings take over. And yet, standing in front of Dylan, he felt like David. Just remembering the way Luke's face had fallen when Dylan condemned him. First he lost his twin, and then his older brother turned cold.

"You're back," Aki managed to grate out, and wanted again to lash out so bad his arms ached. "Dammit, Dylan. Damn you. God _damn_ you."

Dylan looked at him with that painful sincerity. "You can't do this alone, lad."

Aki's eyes could have popped out of his head. "That's..." he shook his head. "Now? This? _This_ I can't do alone?" His voice rose until he was nearly shouting. "Since when do you fucking care?"

He turned away, closing his eyes and raking his hands through his hair. God _damn_ Dylan. Saying something like that, like he hadn't abandoned ship months ago when Luke was wasting away right in front of him, keening all night with terrors, lashing out in shocking fits of violence, spitting ugly, unspeakable thoughts...

"What did you want, Aki?" Dylan asked desperately. "I did the best I could, and I'm sorry it wasn't right. But I'm here now and I'm tryin' to understand what to do..."

Aki looked over his shoulder at Dylan, feeling the same stab of betrayal he'd felt since the day David died and Dylan looked Luke and Aki right in their devastated faces and shook his head in disgust.

The same stab he'd felt when he'd gone to Dylan the next day to explain how they couldn't have helped it, how David had already decided and Luke couldn't have stopped him and the last minutes were just something strange between the twins and what could anyone have done? And Dylan had looked at him with that same revulsion and asked him what the difference was between allowing a suicide and committing a murder.

The same stab he'd felt when Luke had returned from Jen a ravaged, brittle shell, and Dylan couldn't get past the grudge. Couldn't summon the will to try. Couldn't reconcile his grief long enough to be there as Luke was sinking.

The stab he'd felt the day Luke died and Dylan left.

He felt that stab again now, standing here in the sun, and this was all Dylan had to say? That he'd done the best he could?

"I can't do this," Aki muttered, turning to leave.

"I'm sorry," Dylan said, his voice shaking. "I'm sorry he's gone. Aki, I'm _sorry_."

Aki didn't want Dylan's tears. He didn't want this conversation. When Dylan caught his arm, he spun and shoved the Irishman back. "Get off me."

"I left you with it," Dylan persisted, his large green eyes glistening. "I left him with it. I blamed you both, and I hurt you for it, I let him suffer alone, and I let you grieve alone. I abandoned you when I should have stayed. Aki, I love you. I love them. And I hate myself for failing you. Aki, please," he begged again as Aki turned to leave once more.

Aki reeled back to face him, giving up on hiding his own tears. "Love us?" he shouted. "How? You didn't even _like_ us. You couldn't even tolerate us."

Dylan shook his head. "No. That's not true."

"Why are you here?" Aki demanded. "What do you want to accomplish?"

"He's my brother," Dylan said. "I left you with Luke. I can't do that to you again. Whether or not you forgive me..."

"I _don't_ ," Aki said through gritted teeth. "And don't pretend you forgive me."

Once again, there it was. The conflict between them, stark and bare.

Aki wanted to look past it, more than almost anything—second to wanting Luke back, he wanted this gone. He wanted Dylan back on his side, his surrogate older brother, the one person he could trust and confide in, who he didn't feel responsible for, the one fucking person who said the right things and asked the right questions and made the right jokes. The one person who was always there, until suddenly he wasn't.

But Dylan's eyes, despite their pleading and their regret and their compassion, were still tinged with accusation. Aki could see it there. Dylan wouldn't even deny it. And Aki couldn't take it. He couldn't abide it. Dylan blaming Luke and him for David, it hurt too much.

The Irishman swallowed, and finally spoke. "Anyway I'm here."

"Well, right now you have to leave," Aki replied roughly, turning away yet again.

"God, Aki, I'm fuckin' sorry..."

Aki ignored the voice behind him, walking back to the house as fast as he could. Tears were threatening to spill over, and he had to fight them back so hard that he couldn't breathe.

He slammed the door behind him and fell back against it in silence, covering his face.

The touch of a hand on his shoulder made him jump, and he had no time to look up before he was pulled into David's arms.

"Shh." David held him close, running a soothing hand down the back of his head and between his shoulder blades.

Fuck, thrown for a loop again. Would anything ever make sense?

"You couldn't save us, Aki," David whispered. "Nobody could. He doesn't understand what that means."

Aki shook his head, slowly wrapping his arms around David's body.

It felt so much like Luke's.

Just stronger.

"You did everything you could," the Irish boy murmured. "We know you did. I'm sorry we left you, Aki."

"But you still want to go."

David slowly pulled away, and when he looked at Aki, his eyes were tired and faraway. "Yeah," he murmured. "But I can't." His eyes fell absently, gazing through Aki's chest. "I dunno what I'll do."

"You just got back. Maybe in a while..." he trailed off as David grimly shook his head.

"It's all black inside," Luke's twin replied, and turned away. "Did they give you drugs for me?"

Aki nodded. No one knew what to expect from David after he woke from the dead, and Aki had various forms of powerful sedatives for whatever need might arise.

"Good. I want to sleep now." David studied him for a moment. "Have some for yourself. Lie down with me."

A chill crawled up Aki's spine and opened a dark, cold hole in his chest, one he'd fought so hard to close in the months since David and Luke had laid down one after the other and died.

Stupid, to think it could heal. Stupid to think taking care of Ken would soothe him. Stupid to see hope in a little help from the telepath. Stupid to think he could move on from this with his blasted-out brain. Idiotic, to think there was any way out of this purgatory.

Aki would never kill himself. He'd just suffer. Forever.

"Aki," David said softly, and stepped closer again, framing Aki's face in his hands.

Aki was frozen as David softly, chastely kissed his lips. He stared in bleak despair at the face before him, those frighteningly unhappy eyes, the gentle lips, so familiar because they were David's, and because they were Luke's. His mouth tingled from the kiss.

"I'm sorry," David murmured, and turned away.

#  32. Ken Touches Trouble

Ken woke up and shivered.

The pillow had an unfamiliar scent. The sheets were rough. And he smelled someone else in the room with him.

He opened his eyes. The motel. Ah, shit. Now he remembered everything. Coming here the night before, hot and clammy and pissed off, and finding Jin in the bathroom, and getting even more pissed off and then his insides exploding, basically, like a grenade, like he was on fire inside.

But it was a blur after that. He'd passed out, he knew, and woken up naked and covered in melting ice, with Jin's face floating in front of him.

And there were a few things that didn't make sense. Like snow. An icy stream. Walking through a frozen forest with Jin's voice in his ears, guiding him through the delicious cold.

Cautiously, he turned to look at Jin beside him on the bed. The telepath was sleeping on his back, dressed only in a pair of blue trunks, his long legs sprawled out on top of the sheet and blanket Ken was lying under. One hand rested low on his flat stomach, the slim fingers relaxed below his navel.

Ken grimaced faintly at the sight of the burns trailing down Jin's face, and chest, and the left side of his stomach, ending just inside his left hipbone. They looked serious, and painful. Ken didn't really remember doing it, but he knew he had. He remembered the blisters on his palms, which were now wrapped neatly in bandages.

He began distractedly to unwind those bandages as he inspected Jin's face. It was turned just slightly away from Ken, calling his straight nose and taut jawline into relief. In sleep, his sharp lips were soft and quiet, but his sly face was still... sly, somehow.

Ken could just barely see the blister covering the opposite cheek.

Finishing with the bandages, he inspected his own palms. They had already healed. He looked again at Jin's burns.

Dammit.

He couldn't just let it be. It would be like letting Jin walk around screaming to everyone that he was a pyro, or whatever. Then again, healing the burns would scream to the telepath that he was a healer.

He weighed the options in his mind as he shifted carefully across the mattress, creeping to Jin's side where he could look more closely at the angry blisters covering the other side of his face, marring his smooth chest, skipping down the ridges of his abdomen, stopping with that ugly wound in the sensitive-looking hollow inside his hipbone.

Ken stared at that one, frowning. Maybe he could do it without waking the telepath up. He could start from the bottom, so by the time he got to the face, he'd be all warmed up and quick, and could pull away if Jin woke up.

Maybe.

Well, anyway, what was worse? Burns or no burns?

Ken slowly reached for Jin's hip. It was flat between those hipbones, and smooth, just tiny little hairs below the navel. Thicker than Lupe's. The abdomen more muscular. Ken's hand was very white against the telepath's warm skin. He swallowed and carefully, slowly, laid the heel of his palm over the hot wound, his fingertips curling over the summit of the hipbone where the skin was still silky and flawless.

The tingling started in his arm. It was a nice feeling, like a gentle touch inside, moving all the way up his shoulder and spine before it reached into Jin.

The telepath shifted, taking a soft breath. Ken looked up at him, wide-eyed and still. The telepath's eyes were still closed, though his lips had parted.

And then Ken felt it under his wrist.

He shifted his arm quickly, just enough that it was no longer nudged by the growing shape beneath Jin's trunks. But he looked.

The same thing had happened to him the night Luke came in to smooth out his scars. Once those healing hands went below Ken's navel, his body reacted so quickly it took him by shock _. It's all right,_ Luke whispered. _It happens._ He just kept working, lower and lower, healing the scars between his legs just like he'd healed them everywhere else.

So, Ken should have expected it now. But...Jin. Getting that bulge, and Ken's hand right beside it...

His cheeks felt warm. He tried to focus on finishing the burn, almost smooth now beneath his palm.

Jin exhaled. And this time, Ken could hear he was awake.

Ken looked at him, caught, and found Jin's deep blue eyes blinking down at where Ken's hand rested inside his hip. The telepath looked at Ken's face then, dumbfounded.

The burn was gone. Ken slowly drew his hand back, his heart beating a little harder, refusing to break eye contact, trying to look like he had no idea there had been a burn there in the first place. Although that created the problem of explaining why, then, he'd had his hand there, when Jin's dick was hard.

But there was still another problem. Jin's face. It was bad. The burn was huge. It had caused his eyelid to swell.

And worse, definitely worse, the telepath was staring at him in something like shock.

"You heal?" Jin whispered at last, looking at him with those sleepy hooded eyes, lips slightly pursed.

Ken shook his head, and frowned as the telepath looked pointedly down at the unblemished skin above the waistband of his trunks, while below the waist, his cock was straining against his trunks. Jin raised an eyebrow and looked at him again, not smiling, not frowning, just asking.

Fuck. Now which was worse? Jin knowing he could heal on top of being a pyro, or Jin thinking Ken had touched him in his sleep? If he did think that. But of course he thought that. Even though it was stupid. What else would Jin think, if he didn't think Ken had only been healing a burn there?

Rolling his eyes slightly, though his heart was beating hard, Ken leaned over Jin's upper body and fit his hand over the scorched print he'd made on the telepath's face the night before.

As soon as he did, Jin reached up and slipped a hand behind Ken's neck.

Ken froze, meeting Jin's blue eyes again. What the hell?

The telepath was gently rubbing the back of his neck, his fingers stroking his hair at the base of his skull.

"What are you doing?" Ken whispered.

"What are _you_ doing?" Jin whispered back, and in the right corner of his mouth a soft little smirk flickered and then sneaked away. The other corner was burned and red. Ken covered it with his thumb.

Jin's hand was moving down his neck a little, trailing between his shoulder blades, fingertips warm and smooth against his bare skin.

Ken focused on the mouth, watching the redness fade away beneath his touch, smoothing it with slow little strokes, sometimes catching part of the velvety, unblemished upper lip.

Jin's other arm was around his waist now, his fingers touching the base of his spine. His mouth got closer.

Goddammit, why were they...

Ken's head went quiet for a moment. All he heard was the delicate wet sound of his lips sliding against Jin's, Jin's slow intake of breath.

His eyes closed. His thoughts floated off...

...and quickly came back.

What the fuck?

What the hell...

The telepath's hand was pressed firmly against his lower back, coaxing him closer, and his other hand was on his shoulder, kneading and stroking his upper arm.

And then there was a pause between their lips, the briefest natural pause for breath, and Ken turned his head away and shrugged off Jin's hands. His cheeks were hot. He moved his hand to the burn on Jin's left pectoral.

Jin's hand caught his. When Ken looked up, Jin shook his head.

"Why not?"

"You should rest." The telepath's voice was soft and husky, his eyes full of something strange. His throat moved as he swallowed. "Need to borrow your shirt though, or your jacket."

Ken felt so confused. Then he remembered the night before, and why he was pissed, and thank God. It was easier to be pissed, even if it wasn't as strong as before. He pulled his hand out of Jin's and looked straight at him. "Sky didn't do it."

"Okay."

"What do you mean, okay?" Ken asked quietly. He meant to snap, but he couldn't seem to get that into his voice. It was so quiet in the room. And they were lying so still. And there weren't any clothes.

"You know him." Jin shrugged. "You'd know." He lifted himself up on his elbows. It put their faces very close together again. And Ken realized he must have been the one who started it, because now he wanted to do it again.

But instead of kissing Jin, he put a hand on his burned chest again, pressing firmly enough to draw a soft hiss from the telepath.

"I said..."

"Shut up," Ken interrupted.

Jin glanced down at Ken's hand on his chest and then stared at him. "You wanna pass out again?"

Ken ignored him, but hoped the warning was empty. "I know Jackson did it," he insisted, because he needed to fight about something.

"Fine. Whatever. Dammit, enough." Jin grabbed his wrist as he tried to move to the next burn. "I get it. You wanna destroy the evidence. But wait 'til after breakfast."

Ken was tense. But he'd felt Jin's heart beating under his palm. And...breakfast. God, he was hungry. He was _so_ hungry.

It must have showed, because Jin smiled. "Starving, right? That's what happens. You burned a lot of calories last night. You need to eat. Let's go."

Jin got up and went to the door, stepping outside in his underwear. The sun was bright outside.

Ken looked away, trying to get a grip. He only looked up again when a wad of clothes landed on top of the sheets in his lap. His jeans were still damp, and he frowned.

"Tried to dry them," Jin said with a shrug. "There was ice water everywhere last night. Lend me your shirt or what?"

Ken held it out to him, sullen. After a moment he asked, "What else happened?"

Jin pulled on the gray cotton tee. It was tighter on his shoulders and chest than it was on Ken. "You overheated. I talked you through it, showed you how to cool yourself down. Then you fell asleep and I brought you to bed. Wrapped up your hands." Jin gave him an inscrutable look that seemed a little too amused for comfort, and then headed for the bathroom. "Don't worry," he called. "I didn't touch you in your sleep or anything."

Ken glared at the wall and stood up to get dressed.

As soon as the shower ran, he was out of the room. Jin had to have stashed a car or a bike somewhere. And Ken could find breakfast on his own.

#  33. Mark Loves Dylan. Or Jen. Or Dylan.

Mark was halfway down a bottle of vodka. He hated vodka. But it was all Lip had in the house. He didn't even know why he had that, actually. None of them had time to drink. And they had to drink so much, Talents, to even feel it. Especially Mark. Luckily, it was a large bottle, and he hated the taste enough to drink it fast.

But he wished he had something stronger. Some of Sky's smack, maybe.

What the fuck, Sky...

Mark rubbed his face, slumping down farther in the corner of the couch, bitter anger rolling through his head. But it couldn't have been on purpose, he told himself again, and took another large gulp of vodka. It had to be an accident. Sky couldn't have meant to do it. Why would he do it?

But how could it be an accident? Sky had no reason to go to that clinic.

Maybe it wasn't him. But then, where was he now?

Kel was out looking for him, just in case there was more to this, in case the empath was in trouble. But Mark wasn't looking. Mark believed Lip, whose freakish intuitions that were almost always right. And Lip told Mark he believed Sky had done it. So Sky must have done it.

But why? Why would Sky do that? To hurt him? To help him? Why?

"Mark."

Mark's head jerked up at the familiar voice, and he stared in shock at Dylan's shape in the doorway of the dark room.

The fucking beautiful son of a bitch. The sight of him did it every time. God, and after all these weeks, that skinny face and the plush lips and the angles of his bones and his scrawny muscles and that dark wild hair flying around his face, it...

He was the only one in the world who'd ever compared to Jen.

"Drinkin'?"

Even in the dark Mark knew those large green eyes with their slightly heavy lids had drifted to the bottle and Dylan was probably stiffening slightly with hurt, because he knew. Mark was sure he knew it was all about Jen, as always, no matter how much Mark said he loved the Irishman or anyone else, it was always Jen who got to him, no matter what she did to anyone, no matter how he swore he'd let her go, no matter what he whispered in Dylan's ear and how much it felt like he meant it.

Mark set the bottle hard on the coffee table and rose from the couch, his head spinning only slightly.

"Desperate enough for vodka," Dylan murmured. A car rolled by outside, the blue glow of headlights drifting smoothly across the room and illuminating for a bare moment Dylan's anguished face.

Mark stopped in front of him, his chest tight.

"Saw David." Dylan's voice was hushed. "And Aki."

Mark dreaded what was next. "And?"

"David tried to fight me. Aki stopped 'im." Dylan's eyes glistened with tears and he looked down, his face crumpling for a moment before he pulled it back together. "I don't think I can fix this, Mark," he whispered, shaking his head.

A wave of painful tenderness flooded Mark. This wasn't about him and Jen. Or it didn't have to be. This was about the people who had been hurt, people they loved. It was about his friend Dylan, and the cost of his grief and the damage it had done to his brothers and to Aki, and his desperation to make things right again.

And here he was, asking Mark for help, and Mark had this chance to stop wallowing in his own shit and step up. Dylan was giving him that chance, for some reason, after Mark had let him down so monumentally.

"You did the right thing," he said quietly. "Coming back and seeing them was the right thing to do. Aki would never have forgiven you if you hadn't."

"Why should he forgive me at all? I shoulda been there, Mark."

"You were there," Mark reminded him firmly, because sometimes he thought the feud had warped the memories of those involved. "You were there when she took Luke. You were there when he came back. There was just a lot of hurt there, okay? Nobody had a magic word to fix what happened after David died."

"I called him a murderer," Dylan muttered. "That was my magic word." Reaching up to pinch his own brow, he dropped his voice to a whisper. "And I can't stop blamin' 'em, Mark."

Mark put a sympathetic hand on Dylan's shoulder.

"They let it happen," Dylan went on, almost inaudible, his hand still covering his knitted brow. "Luke let it happen. And I can call it a mistake. A bad mistake. But I can't say it was right."

They'd had this conversation before, more than once, and the chasm between Dylan and Aki only got deeper the more each dug in his heels.

Mark had no doubt Aki was angry about David's suicide, too. But there was no one in the world more loyal than Aki, and there was no way he would ever criticize Luke's brother so soon after his death. Aki was shocked when Dylan had no such qualms. It was a clash of principles that should never have escalated, but in that storm of grief, feelings were spiraling out of control.

Mark saw both sides. Aki felt that there were things between the twins—things in their past, and in the secret dimensions of their relationship—that no outsider could fathom, not even him. And he trusted Luke enough not to interrogate him about it.

But who could blame Dylan for feeling differently? Dylan didn't believe in giving up. And he believed, really believed, that love could fix things—that committed friends could keep each other on their feet, no matter what. That they were _obligated_ to.

"We weren't there," Mark said cautiously. "You know Aki wouldn't have just stood by and let it happen."

"But _Luke_."

"You can't stay angry at Luke." Mark shook his head. "Dylan, that'll kill you."

"What's so hard about stayin' alive?" Dylan demanded. "When nothin's hurtin' anymore. Jesus, I just—" He suddenly cut himself off, closing his eyes.

"People get broken," Mark said gently. "They get worn out. Not everyone can fight through it like you can."

Dylan's lips thinned. He hated hearing this.

But somewhere, deep down, he had to know people had limits. The O'Reillys had all been born in the same rotting house in the backwoods of Ireland. Their parents were delusional, sadistic tyrants. Dylan had run from the homestead when he was just eight. It wasn't until he was twenty-four that he thought to check in on his birthplace to see if his parents were dead or in jail.

They were neither dead, nor in jail. They'd had more children. Dylan got there in time to extract Luke and David, but it was painfully obvious the twins had been through hell. It was clear they carried their memories like a secret disease. Who knew what had happened to them? Who knew what David had been holding inside all these years?

"Fuck, never mind," Dylan breathed, covering his face with both hands.

Mark embraced him tightly. Dylan's arms came around him easily; they still fit together, always would. "I love you," Mark said. "Glad you're back."

Dylan was still and silent in his arms. But then his hands began to slide down Mark's back, around his sides, over his abdomen, up his chest.

"Why don't you fuck it out of me?" Dylan said quietly, his lips wandering slowly over Mark's cheek toward his mouth. "Just for a bit. Think you can?"

Mark caught his lips in a passionate kiss, pulling him closer still.

Sex, with Dylan, was where it all came out. There were no secrets in bed with Dylan, if you knew how to read him. Mark was pretty good at it. Tonight Dylan probably had a lot to say.

"Fuck, you know I don't want it slow." Dylan grabbed Mark by the hair and added force to the kiss, pushing him to walk backward into the room.

Mark could never undress as fast as Dylan wanted. Dylan didn't waste time. He wanted skin, and teeth, and tongues, and sucking lips, and groping hands—all of it, everywhere, and fast. Mark loved it.

Dylan was already getting rid of Mark's pants now, and then he was grabbing him by the hips and dropping to his knees.

"Fuck," Mark breathed, because Dylan was always a little rough with him and he loved it. And he missed him, and missed this, and there wasn't anything in the world like fucking Dylan. Just like there wasn't anything in the world like fucking Jen. God, what was wrong with him?

He carded his fingers through Dylan's hair as the Irishman sucked him down, groaning and shifting with each bob of his head. The sound of it, the smacking, sucking lips, the way Dylan made the lewd noise so perfect...

"Love your cock," Dylan muttered when he came up for air, and then sucked it down again.

"Dylan," Mark groaned, because his hunger was rising and bringing waves of memories of Dylan's wiry body arched across the bed and striped with come. They used to fuck all the time, constantly. More than he ever fucked Jen, even. They fucked everywhere. They did _everything_. And it never got old, the electric flash of Dylan's touch, the mischief in his eyes, the way he could flash that grin at any moment. And afterward, basking in his glow, feeling like a normal person.

Dylan released his dick with a wet pop and rose in front of him, his eyes dark with sex, and his lips damp with sex, and his ropy muscles taunting Mark with memories of how they moved. Mark exhaled, grabbing him and spinning him around. He grabbed Dylan by the thigh, dragged his hand up to squeeze his ass.

But then, without meaning to, he slid his arms around Dylan's torso and simply hugged him tight. He sealed his mouth onto the curve between Dylan's shoulder and neck and closed his eyes, thinking, _Fuck._

He couldn't lose this.

"Gonna fuck me or what?" Dylan groaned heavily, shifting his hips until he caught Mark's rigid dick in the cleft of his ass and rubbed against it.

"Shut up, Dylan," Mark whispered against his skin, gripping his sinewy torso for another moment before he let his hands roam over the ridges of Dylan's body, the rocky muscles on his wiry frame. He'd lost weight. Mark wasn't surprised.

"Don't tease," Dylan warned. "I'm not fuckin' jokin'." Dylan shoved Mark away, kicked his discarded pants out of his path, and stalked away toward the bedroom. They used to joke about that. Dylan could always sense where the bedroom was, in any house. He always preferred fucking in beds. He liked the space.

Mark followed him. Dylan stood at the foot of the bed, working his cock in his hand, staring at Mark with those huge, hooded eyes. Fuck, he was hot.

Suddenly Mark couldn't help wishing Dylan would smile at him, one of those private, brilliant, patented O'Reilly smiles that made you feel, deep down, like you'd done something right, like you _were_ all right, and you were seen, and you were appreciated.

But no one had seen one of those smiles in a long time.

A lightning flash of shame hit Mark right in the chest.

Dylan. _Dylan_. His friend, his lover—how had he ended up wandering off on his own? How had Mark not been there with him, been there for him? He didn't know _how_ he'd fucked up, but he couldn't help feeling like he had.

"Dylan..."

"Shut up," Dylan said quietly, and reached for him. He hooked Mark around the waist and pulled him down to the bed. "Stop thinking. Let's just fuck."

Mark closed his eyes when Dylan grabbed his erection, shuddering with the pleasure of it, and the thrill of Dylan. But...

"Want me to stop?" Dylan asked, like he was joking.

Fuck, no, Mark didn't want him to stop. When did Mark ever say stop? Except...

"Yeah," Mark said.

Dylan stopped immediately, surprised. Mark was surprised, too.

They separated slowly. Dylan got up and put on a pair of Mark's boxers, and Mark sat on the foot of the bed. He watched Dylan lean against the door, arms crossed.

"I'm sorry, O," Mark said, using the old nickname from back in the early years of their friendship.

"For what?"

"I know how it looks. Me moping about her, after..."

"Look, stop makin' me out like some heartsick fuckin' ex, OK?" Dylan said, rolling his eyes to Mark. "You loved her when I met you. S'got nothin' to do with you and me."

That wasn't remotely true, and Mark rubbed his forehead in frustration.

"I know you want her back," Dylan continued. "It's allowed."

"I don't want her back," Mark said. "I mean, Jesus. I miss her, but it—that's not what I really want. I want Aki back. I want Luke back. I want _you_ back, Dylan."

Dylan sighed, leaning his head back against the wall.

"I know how it looks. I know I haven't let her go like I should." Mark was physically uncomfortable talking about this, but maybe Dylan appreciated the honesty. "For you to find me outside her crypt right after Luke—I know it was bad. It's been fucked up, you know, but I..."

"I didn't leave 'cause of you. M'sorry I left you feelin' like I did."

Mark swallowed and looked down.

"I didn't mean to leave you at all. Fuck, you know I love you, Mark. I just can't find the ground right now." Dylan tried to smile, but it was twisted. More like a grimace of pain. "Maybe I'm starting to get it. What it feels like, when you can't find anything good."

Mark got up and crossed the room, sliding his arms around Dylan's waist and pulling him close.

How? How had he put Jen before Dylan? How?

Dylan sighed as Mark crushed him in the embrace. "Don't think these biceps are enough to keep me here."

Mark closed his eyes, imagining it was a real joke, on a night back when things were good.

#  34. Paging Dr. Gadamer

"Jin's pissed," Giovanni said in his coldly melodious voice. The Italian empath was slouched casually in the passenger seat, swiping through pages on a tablet. Jackson's Talents rarely had to absorb their information manually, but they had to adapt now that their telepath was off on his own assignment.

"Yes," Jackson said. "Of course he is."

Giovanni cast him a sidelong glance, and turned back to the file with a shake of his head.

Jackson could tolerate the empath's skepticism. After all, it was Vanni alone who bore witness to the unsettling depth of Jin's attraction to Ken.

Jackson knew the attraction, too, of course. He was the precognitive. He had seen it. He had schemed upon it and around it. The unlikely, unfathomable chemistry between his bloodthirsty telepath and this strange prodigious youth was a phenomenon he was prepared to milk for all it was worth.

But Giovanni, the empath, was the one who had to feel Jin's reaction to Ken any time they were in range. It disturbed the Italian. He was disdainful of outsiders, irritated by conventional forms of affection, and possessive of Jin. Giovanni's one encounter with Ken to date had made matters exponentially worse. Giovanni was not good at losing.

Jackson knew it was difficult for the empath to accept that Jin's profound and growing attachment to Ken was part of a plan that would free them from KGA. Giovanni seethed, knowing that the insolent waif was the Key, the priceless jewel at the center of the prophecy.

"You are to be on your best behavior," Jackson said, changing the subject. They were only minutes away from KGA, and Giovanni and Jin had taught him over the years that it never hurt to repeat this order up to the last moment. "Do not meddle without my permission."

_"Sì_." In a moment, Giovanni had pulled up a photo of Jennifer Mitchell copied from KGA's files. The empath fell to quiet contemplation.

"Especially not with her," Jackson said.

"Physical. Empath. Telepath. Telekinetic. Regenerative." The Italian said the words slowly.

"That's right," Jackson murmured, understanding Vanni's fascination with Jen's profile.

There were natural laws to hybrids. Telepaths were never empaths. Telekinetics were never regeneratives. Jackson was not surprised Jen had folded beneath the chaos in her brain.

He was about to get to know that chaos.

Lip and Kel greeted them outside one of the modular structures they had set up on ARSI's new property. With the trees all around them and the main structures still in their early stages, the place looked more like a commune than a paramilitary organization. But it would come together, Jackson knew. These Talents were not to be underestimated.

They were also not pleased to see him.

"Jackson Gadamer," Lip said, stepping forward and extending his hand. The Australian was casually dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt and black sneakers, his blond hair cut short. His handsome face was neutral, but his blue eyes were sharp. "I'm Lip."

Jackson shook his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lip."

Kel stepped forward next, his aristocratic face completely unreadable. "Kel," he said, and said nothing more.

"Kel, pleased to meet you." Jackson knew the Senegalese Talent was in charge of intelligence at ARSI, and that he routinely accomplished the impossible by tapping into KGA communications to monitor their goings on. Not even Jackson's team had that kind of technical prowess.

Mark was nowhere to be seen. Jackson was not surprised. No doubt he was off brooding somewhere, angry that his former lover was being traded to another team.

"This is Giovanni," Jackson said, gesturing to the Italian, who kept his hands in his pockets and merely nodded in greeting. "I assure you he's on his best behavior."

Lip nodded to Giovanni and turned back to Jackson. "As we discussed on the phone," he said, "we expect to be informed of her progress in your custody."

"Certainly. But there will be no further communication between Jennifer and Mark."

The Australian's poker face was admirable. Or perhaps he had seen that coming. "Fine," Lip said. "Whatever works."

Jackson looked around the property. "A fine location," he said. "The first of several, I assume?"

Lip shrugged. "God willing."

"No need for God's will," Jackson said. "I made the deposit this morning."

"I know. We appreciate the donation."

"You can thank KGA," Jackson said with a slight smile. He had plundered their accounts. "I'm happy to share what we have. This relationship is important to us."

"I hope to say the same." The Australian's expression still hadn't changed. "Jen's inside."

In person, Jen's beauty was more effective than he expected, and he was relieved. He still did not relish the visions he had had of their impending relationship, finding it hard to accept that something as indulgent as sex with Jen was a practical development in his plans, but so be it. Jackson knew better than to stand in the way of visions as strong as that one had been.

And it would serve a purpose, however unsavory.

Jackson thought of Jin's expression that night in the train yard, the telepath's blue eyes fixed so intently on Ken and with such uncertainty, such uncontrolled interest. He thought of Ken helpless and sweating in that desert motel, and Jin responding with the capable and mature version of himself he usually kept hidden. Jin had seen Ken's vulnerability, and had saved him from the agony of his sudden manifestation. And Ken had seen Jin's competence, his understanding of Talent. How the air would have changed between them by now.

There was no room for jealousy. At least, not for Jackson's.

Jen was staring at him in wonder, a strange expression for the woman who had psychically brutalized her allies out of mad spite. He knew she was intrigued by the strength and stability of his shields, the promise that he was beyond her ability to harm. He knew she was wondering if he was strong enough to help her.

Sensing her hope through Giovanni, Jackson nodded. "Focus on me."

"What are you doing?" Jen's voice was quiet and strong, like she had experience being in authority.

"Nothing, yet. Your Talent is drawn to my shields, and they're quiet."

Jen's eyes were intelligent, calculating, and surprisingly grounded. Jackson was pleased.

Once she had stabilized, she would be an excellent partner. He already knew she would willingly join his plot against KGA once he proved he could help her control her Talent. And with a little work, she would easily pass for the Key.

"I'm going to help you," he said, "if you will come with me."

#  35. Ken Does the Right Thing

It was good to be back on the coast. Ken stopped at a Japanese restaurant and ordered a stack of eight bento boxes, just in case Aki had been too upset to eat. Not that _Aki_ would eat eight of them. But they would get eaten.

Back at the house, Aki was doing some intricate combat routine on the first-floor deck, which Ken figured was an okay sign. When Luke died, Aki didn't train for weeks. No one had died this time—the opposite, in fact—but Ken knew it must have been awful for Aki, being there when David woke up, when Luke _didn't_ wake up, and then finding out Jen had woken up, too.

He brought two of the bento boxes out to the deck and set them down on the bench facing the beach. Aki embraced him immediately and then gripped his shoulders, staring into his eyes.

"Don't come after me like that," Aki said sternly. "I don't want you _anywhere_ near her."

Ken nodded, but had no intention of sticking to it. If Aki was in trouble, Ken was going to help him. That was that.

They sat side by side and ate in the afternoon sun, while Aki filled him in on everything that had happened.

"He's upstairs now," Aki said. "Just staring at the wall. It's nothing like how Luke was, but it's not good."

"Can I say hi?"

Aki looked surprised. Ken didn't know why. Sure, he wanted to say hi. Why not? He was curious. It had been a long time since he'd seen David, and the twin was interesting in his memory, mysterious and removed. It fascinated him that David had killed himself. It was hard to understand what it would be like to come back after that.

Aki explained it to him once. David was a physical and regenerative Talent. He'd died a bunch of times, but he kept coming back, with help from Luke. Well, they kept saying it like that, but it was pretty clear David just couldn't die. What was "dead" if you could wake up like that?

That wasn't dead. It just wasn't. You couldn't just wake up, if you were dead. Luke, though, was dead-dead. Or that was what they all seemed to think. How could they know?

"He's kind of fucked up," Aki said slowly, clearly meaning it as a warning, like he thought Ken wasn't going to like what he saw.

"I just want to say hi," Ken said again.

It was more than curiosity, really. It seemed important. Luke had taken care of Ken when Ken showed up fresh from death, and so had David, in his own quiet but significant way. The twins had understood him. It was a good memory for Ken, that first taste of having people on his side. He was on David's side, he guessed, so maybe David should know it.

Also he had a blunt in his room he thought maybe David could smoke if he wanted. David used to smoke a lot.

David was in the spare bedroom, sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed with his knees up and his head down on his folded arms. He was breathing kind of heavily, his shoulder blades slowly heaving, and Ken almost turned and left, but then David raised his head just enough to look over his forearms.

Shadows under his eyes, but still the same David, strikingly beautiful. The twins were the second most beautiful, Ken thought, after Aki. David's green eyes were almost the same shade as Ken's pale one. They used to be sharp and full of dark humor. Now they were bleary and tired.

"Hi," Ken said. It came out in a whisper.

He swallowed.

David lifted his head the rest of the way, revealing his narrow nose, the elegantly tapered face, the refined cheekbones he shared with his brothers, and the soft pink lips, now slightly parted.

"Ken," David said, as though testing the name.

Now Ken didn't know what to say. He'd assumed the simple contact would be enough to convey what he wanted to, whatever that was, but that didn't really work, and now he was just standing awkwardly in the doorway of a guy who'd just come back from the not-dead, and who was doubtless really wrecked because his twin wasn't with him.

Then David was unfolding a long, pale arm and patting the floor beside him.

That wasn't what he expected. Ken came forward and then, before he sat down and crushed it in his pocket, withdrew the blunt. He felt really stupid now, but he lowered himself to the floor and offered it to the lone twin with the battered eyes.

"I thought...I remembered...you liked...if you want." Shit. David had fake-died before Ken started talking. Now he was probably thinking he never learned.

David was staring at the thin cigar in dumb surprise. Then he looked into Ken's eyes. "Where did you get that?"

"My...not my girlfriend." Dammit.

There was a pause and then Irish boy's lips moved just slightly, the beginning of a smile that faded too quickly to really count. His eyes moved down to Ken's shoulders. "Not as skinny now."

"Really?" Ken brightened, then felt embarrassed. What was he, a little kid? He shrugged and set the blunt on the floor between them.

There was a long silence. Then David picked up the blunt and turned it between his fingers, inspecting it distantly. "Thank you."

"I'm really hungry. So if you want food..." he groped for the right way to finish the sentence, and gave up with, "...you could eat. Too."

A smaller fraction of the smile flickered, but David was pulling back into the pose he'd been in before, only now with his arms folded more loosely on his knees, the blunt hanging from between his fingers.

"Bye," Ken said, and waited a beat before he got to his feet.

"Bye."

David watched him, even as he lowered his face to his arms again, and Ken closed the door.

#  36. Jin Gets In

"I don't have time to waste explaining things you already understand, Jin."

Jin took a long drag of his cigarette and squinted at the house above him. Only one light was on. Probably Aki, sitting up and reading Buddhist texts or watching Dragon Ball or something.

"Me neither," he replied into his phone. "That's why I just said no."

"It doesn't strike you as odd that you want to prohibit me from sending your teammate anywhere near you?"

"Nope." Jin aimed the smoke so that he could watch it curl in the soft glow of the lamp at the driveway gate. "Strikes me as odd you're sending me out to do things I don't know I'm doing."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do."

He was still pissed. Pissed Jackson hadn't told him the real reason he and Vanni were fucking around with Sky was to get him to wake up David and Jen. Pissed Ken somehow knew Jackson was behind it when Jin hadn't even suspected. Pissed he couldn't defend himself against the little shit's accusations without selling out his teammates. Pissed Jackson didn't care about the position he was in, and was acting like this was just another don't ask, don't tell assignment where Jin agreed to swallow a lie because it was less work that way.

"I didn't realize you'd changed the rules, Jin," Jackson said in his most crisp variety of condescension. "Plausible deniability has always worked fine for you. But maybe you've moved on to a different game."

_Fuck you_ , Jin almost said, but he didn't go that far with Jackson.

"You want me spending time with the kid?" he said quietly, through gritted teeth. "Fine. You want me watching out for his Talent, fine. But keep Vanni off him. I can't smooth that shit over. He's smart. He'll catch it. And I won't be able to lie it off."

Also, how the fuck was it Vanni's business, messing around with Ken?

Jin had that queasy feeling again, and goddammit, he knew what it was, and didn't know what it was, and it was pissing him off. He felt like he was blindfolded in a knife fight.

"I said Giovanni was coming to talk to you," Jackson said. "Nothing to do with Ken."

"Well, I don't believe you," Jin snapped, knowing his complaints were pointless, that he was asking for the impossible. _Dammit_ , _Jackson_. He didn't like this shit. It was getting too messy.

"I am very pleased with your progress with Ken. I have no intention of allowing Giovanni or anyone else to interfere."

Jin made a face. "Progress? The hell does that mean?" Fuck, he was getting a headache. An actual headache. Nausea and all.

"You do recall that you agreed to be kept in the dark, Jin."

"Then keep me in the fucking dark, Jackson!" Jin snapped. "Fuck!"

He hung up before Jackson could reply—a pretty bold move, but fuck it. He started stalking up the driveway to the house.

One of these days he'd try sneaking through Aki's room, just to see if he could get away with it. But so far he hadn't been in the mood to risk getting his head chopped off. Physical Talents freaked him out. So fast. Jin could hear them coming, but that didn't mean he could get away. And there was no messing with Aki. One wrong move could crush that crippled brain, and then how would he get Ken to be his BFF?

He did pause in the hallway, though, outside David's room. There was a thick, sluggish static coming out of the zombie's head, and underneath it Jin could tell things weren't pretty. He wasn't really in the mood for that, either. Those O'Reilly kids were fucked up. Half these Talents could use some fucking housekeeping, really. They needed someone to teach them a few good habits. They didn't seem to know the first thing about it. Apparently that was the cost of freedom.

No way they could handle Ken, Jin was sure. No fuckin' way.

He opened Ken's door quietly and slipped into his room. The lamp was on, and the patio door was open. There was a flickering on the balcony, soft orange flares of light bouncing off the wooden rails.

Jin stepped into the doorway to the deck and took in the scene.

Ken was kicked back on a deck chair, nearly supine, dressed in sweatpants and a sweater with the sleeves pushed up. He had one hand wrapped around the neck of a wine bottle, and the other hand was raised slightly above his shoulder as though halfheartedly reaching for the sky. As Jin watched, a puff of flame rose above his hand and disappeared.

"You think that's smart to drink while you're shooting fireballs?"

Ken didn't seem surprised by his presence. Didn't even look over. He was watching his own hand and the balls of flame.

Jin waited for a beat, then crossed the deck and crouched beside Ken. Every step closer brought the kid into clearer focus: His long legs stretched along the reclining deck chair, his slim forearms, his sharp jaw, and the way those little puffs of flame were reflected in his eyes for brief moments, clearer in the darker eye than the light one. And the line of those lips, and the line of his nose, and the line of his jaw, all straight and fine like he'd been drawn with an inhumanly steady hand, or carved out of glass with a diamond.

It was incredible how things that seemed so cold and hard could be so soft and sweet...

Jin captured the bottle from him and tipped it back for a swig, then plunked it onto the deck and cocked his chin at Ken's firehand. "Shouldn't do that."

Ken did it again. "Why not?"

"Gonna wear yourself out."

That glimpse of teeth. The kid was perfect. Goddamn perfect. And those eyes like some kind of exotic animal, wise and sullen and suspicious.

Ken did it again, a bigger puff of flame this time. "I'm not worn out."

It was funny how nonchalant Ken was about his new Talent. Pyrokinesis was a hard Talent to master. The manifestation was usually the first step in a long and painful growth process, and it took a lot of training before they learned to aim fire without scorching themselves.

And here was Ken, tossing those fireballs up like they were wads of cotton candy, looking bored about it.

Beautiful fucking prick.

"How did you know what to do?" Ken asked, and when Jin only cocked his head, he added, "Last night. When I passed out."

"Done it before." Hard to focus on the words when he was remembering Ken's slippery body in his arms, the surprising muscles he'd found when he lifted the kid out of the tub.

It was just business at the time, getting Ken cooled off and comfortable, but it felt different looking back. It felt different now.

"How did you learn?"

"Jackson taught me."

Ken lifted the bottle again. It left a little smear of wine on his lip, and he flicked it away with his tongue.

Jin took out his cigarettes, pulled one out, and lit it.

"You can call me if it happens again," he said casually, hiding the satisfaction it gave him to say it. He knew Ken had no one else. Developing pyros needed psychics like psychics needed each other. And as a pyro psychic, Ken sure as fuck needed Jin.

Ken didn't react, just stared at him as before, and that was disappointing, but no big deal.

"Where's your girlfriend?" Jin asked, tossing the pack of cigarettes in the air.

"Party." Ken swiped the cigarettes before Jin caught them.

"Not the jealous type?"

Ken turned the pack in his hands, apparently reading all of the labels. "Are you?"

"Depends what I'm sharing."

That earned him a slow glance. Then Ken went back to the cigarettes. He pulled one out of the pack and examined it. "Did you know that was gonna happen to me?"

Jin shook his head. "Jackson doesn't tell me everything."

"You tell him everything, though." He pushed the cigarette back into the pack.

"Everything he needs to know."

Ken got up and went to the railing, still holding the cigarettes in his hands. "Where's Sky?"

Jin joined him. "I don't know." No view of the city from here. Just ocean. Not bad.

Ken peered out at the white surf, his eyes following the lines of the waves. "Does Jackson?"

"Probably."

Ken grimaced slightly against the wind. After another moment he said, "I'm tired."

"Me, too," Jin said with usual cheer, because this had become familiar, this routine of invading Ken's bedroom and pestering him and falling asleep beside him. Although Ken hadn't told him to go away this time. That was a new twist. He watched Ken turn from the railing to head inside.

But Ken didn't head inside. He stepped closer, reached up, and laid his hand on Jin's shoulder, right by the curve of his neck.

Jin looked at him in surprise and found those dark and light jade eyes staring up at him intently.

"You didn't kiss me again," Ken said in that calm, empty tone he used so well, the one that gave nothing away.

"Didn't know you wanted me to," Jin said, his voice dropping in volume unconsciously.

"You didn't like it?"

Shit. Jin's blood ran hot. God, that face. He reached up and grazed Ken's cheek with his knuckles. So fucking smooth. So much for a smart comeback.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"Nothing," Ken said quietly.

"Hm." Jin slid his hand along Ken's jaw—fuck it was straight and sharp—and bravely brushed his thumb along Ken's lower lip, remembering how silky it was, how good it had tasted that morning.

"Maybe I'm not your type."

Jin smirked. "You're not."

He wasn't a type at all.

Ken narrowed his eyes. "Go find my brother, then."

Jin smiled, because he was learning to speak Ken. And that wasn't Ken getting mad. That was Ken getting flustered. And that was as much of a sign as Jin needed.

Ken's responded more assertively this time, his lips moving firmly against Jin's, and when Jin slipped him tongue, Ken slipped it back. But the bigger surprise was those hands. Whatever he'd expected of Ken, Jin hadn't expected those lethal hands to move quietly over his body like that, sneaking to feel his arm, his ribs, his hip. His ass.

Jin made a surprised sound in Ken's mouth, because what the hell? And now Ken was pulling him close, and Jin could feel the shape of his chest and his abdomen through the cotton shirt and the sweats and then he could even feel the soft bulge of his crotch and _motherfucker_. Jin had him pinned against the railing now kissing him, or had Ken gotten himself pinned against the railing?

Abs. He had such pretty abs. Didn't look like he had them, but he did, and once Jin got a hand under his shirt and felt those subtle ridges it was like taking a shot of something that went straight to his blood. Jesus Christ.

"Let's go inside," Jin whispered.

"Why?" Ken hooked his fingers in the waistband of Jin's jeans and went after his lips again.

Why? Jin thought his growing boner could answer for him, but fine. Inside, outside, in bed, standing up, it didn't matter. Jin slid his hands farther up under Ken's shirt, spread his fingers over his chest and gently flicked his nipples, feeling them tighten immediately.

But Ken exhaled sharply, tensed up and grabbed at Jin's wrists.

Jin opened his eyes and immediately removed his hands. There was some pleasure in Ken's gasp, but none in his darkened expression or his suddenly rigid body.

"Sorry," Jin said simply.

The beginnings of a scowl had formed on Ken's face, but instead of pushing Jin away, he pulled Jin's hands to his hips and went in for another kiss, seizing Jin's bottom lip between his teeth.

"Don't like that, huh?"

"Do something else."

"What is this all of a sudden?" Not that it was sudden for him. Not really. How long had he been creeping on Ken now?

"Go away if you don't like it."

Jin smiled and turned his face into Ken's hair, finding his earlobe and catching it lightly between his lips. He was one to talk. Bastard wasn't even hard. "'Do something else,'" he whispered. "Hm. You trying to set me up?"

"What?"

"Maybe get Aki to walk in and cut my dick off?" His hand moved down to Ken's ass for a nice grope.

"No." Ken sounded surprised.

"Okay. Just checking."

No complaints about the grope. Jin worked his hand under the waist of Ken's sweatpants and felt his tight ass through his boxers, searching for the cuff and pulling it up slightly to get at the smooth skin of his upper thigh.

There it was. Ken's dick stirred against his hip.

Fuck. He was feeling crazy. Drunk and crazy, like when things got nasty on the job and he got to go berserk, but hotter than that, and slightly more lucid. He pushed his luck, getting his hand under the waist of Ken's boxers, too, and found himself with a handful of naked ass that felt like the holy fucking grail.

"How are you so fuckin' hot..." he breathed, and sucked in a bit of Ken's neck as he squeezed that ass, subtly working against him to coax that arousal along.

"Said I wasn't your type."

"I lied." Jin had both hands in now, fondling and squeezing and kneading. "Let's go inside."

"To fuck?"

"Whatever you want," he begged, so possessed by lust at that point he was ready to climb out of his skin and into Ken's just to get a little closer.

"Take your clothes off."

The soft command sent a shiver up Jin's spine and right back down to his crotch. He stepped back just enough to pull his T-shirt off. If Ken wanted him ass-naked outside on the balcony, that was some unexpected dominant shit right there, but that was fine with him. Ken could bend him over the rail and spank him if he wanted. Didn't matter. And in the back of his mind, Jin knew that was weird, but what was he gonna do about it?

He stared at Ken, smirking a little, as he toed off his shoes, pulled off his socks and dropped them on the deck. Ken just stared back, looking cool again like he didn't give a shit, but by now Jin was pretty sure he did. Jin unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, giving a sigh of relief when his stiff cock was finally free of the tight denim. He paused with his thumbs hooked in his trunks, cocking his chin slightly to ask if Ken wanted those off, too.

Ken stepped away from the railing and walked past Jin, into the dark bedroom. Haughty son of a bitch.

But Jin followed at once, watching Ken stop at the foot of the bed to peel off his shirt, and damn he wished those perfect little nipples weren't off limits, but it was all right, because Ken was letting Jin pull him down onto the bed and now Jin could get him stretched out on his back and he could really run his hands down that narrow body with its sneaky muscles and all that smooth skin...

"They're like tattoos," Jin murmured when he realized that even caressing Ken this intently, he couldn't feel the scars at all. Not even with his tongue, probably. He bent down to lay a soft kiss right over Ken's heart, and pushed his luck with another kiss closer to one of those spots of pink, but Ken tensed up again so Jin left it alone and moved downward instead.

"Stop," Ken said suddenly, propping himself up on his elbows.

Jin pulled his lips from the delicious V at the apex of Ken's ribs and rose up on his arms to look at him. Ken looked relaxed enough now, but he was studying him seriously. God only knew what was going on in his weird brain, but Jin knew enough to understand that stop meant stop.

"What's up?" he asked casually, and then smiled. "You hungry?"

To his surprise, Ken looked amused by this.

Jin's smile widened to a grin, and then Ken embraced him and pulled him down again.

#  37. Ken Goes Deep

Ken wasn't sure how this had happened. But now his sweats were coming off.

He just never knew Jin could be so agreeable. Most times it felt like the telepath lived to piss him off, but not now. Ken didn't even have to speak up when Jin touched his chest in a way that made him nervous. Jin just calmly stopped. Didn't even ask why. And when Ken stopped him again, just to see if it was the same, it was.

So now Jin was stroking him through his boxers, and Ken was finally understanding firsthand that it wasn't just girls who touched like that. He'd known it before, of course, even tried to imagine it, and obviously he understood the men who had laid hands on him all his life weren't regular men.

But, still. Neither was Jin. Jin was a killer. He was tough. He was mean, when he wanted. Most of all he was an asshole. So even now, it was fascinating how gentle his hands were, and how much better he was at this than Lupe. Really. It was...

Ken swallowed hard, trying to control his reactions. It was hard. Not just because Jin's hand was finding every inch of him through the thin cotton, or because Jin was nibbling trails along his neck and the edge of his ear and making it feel so good it was like he knew some secret code written under Ken's skin.

But the way Jin was acting. The moment Ken stepped up close to him on the deck the telepath got that look of quiet surprise and interest that always got to Ken somehow. And then there was this intense desire in his face, something almost pleading, and it was making Ken feel confused, and there was just a whole lot of shit to process all at once when he was naked and Jin was inching his boxers down now and was he going to let him do that or what?

"If you don't like it," Jin said quietly, and his voice was low and his breath hot, "I won't do it."

Ken nodded, too quickly, goddammit, he was all nervous now, bending his leg to help Jin get his boxers off, and Jin was going to touch him in a second...

"Yours, too," he demanded, hoping his voice didn't give his nerves away.

Jin was lying on his side, his weight on his elbow, and he raised his hips off the bed to pull his own underwear off.

Jesus. There it was. He'd asked for it. He didn't have a chance to look at it for long, because Jin kissed him deep and slow. Ken kept waiting for his touch to go lower, but Jin just kept stroking his hair, his neck, his waist.

"This okay?" Jin murmured.

Ken opened his eyes, startled. "What?"

"You feel all right?"

"I'm not a virgin," Ken retorted, hoping to sound dismissive, but it didn't matter when he saw Jin's sharp smile slowly spread across his face.

"Yeah, I know," Jin said quietly, and tucked a strand of hair behind Ken's ear. The same fingertips trailed slowly down his neck, down the side of his chest. His smile became a look of hunger as he watched his own hand traveling down Ken's stomach, down his hip, and his thigh.

Ken needed to close his eyes and take a deep breath. But he'd been trying to wait until Jin wasn't paying attention, and now he was tense, watching Jin's fingers, too, as they caressed his inner thigh and traced a path down the other thigh and back up. And then they were grazing his balls and then they were moving up his shaft and then they were wrapped around him and his eyes closed and he sucked in a breath.

But it was Jin who groaned softly and buried his face in Ken's neck. What the hell was that about? The telepath was acting like he was the one being touched, like he was the one who was excited by his hand on Ken's cock like that, and Ken didn't get it but it was making everything way more intense. He had an irrational urge to grab Jin's wrist to stop him, but he couldn't do that when it felt so fucking good.

Jesus, he'd almost just said something, almost blurted something embarrassing about how it felt—what the hell?

"Good?" Jin breathed below his ear, like he could actually read Ken's mind.

"I don't know," Ken lied, but his voice sounded just as rough as Jin's, and he was breathing harder now, it was obvious, and there was nothing he could do about it. Jin exhaled softly against his neck, a whispered laugh, and lifted his head to look at Ken.

Admiration. That's what it was. That was that weird look.

Ken felt his cheeks getting hot. It distracted him from trying to act unaffected, and when Jin's thumb swiped over the head of his dick, he couldn't quite stifle a small sound of pleasure.

Jin groaned again and covered Ken's body with his own, holding his weight on his elbows and putting a knee between Ken's thighs. His erection was incredibly hot against Ken's hip, and his kisses got deeper, and better, and better, and deeper.

It couldn't all feel this good, could it?

"How much does it hurt?" Ken asked suddenly. "Fucking?"

The telepath shifted again, slowly arranging their legs so that their cocks were right on each other. "It doesn't have to hurt."

Ken shuddered involuntarily when he felt Jin's hot sex against his own, and hoped it wasn't noticed. "How?"

"'Cause I can go slow," Jin rocked against him, letting out an unsteady breath. "Work my fingers inside you. Touch you until you're ready. I'd..." The telepath shivered, closing his eyes and licking his lips. "Take my time. With a lot of lube."

Then Jin reached between them and took them both in his hand, rocking forward so that his dick rubbed along Ken's and sent hot arrows of pleasure through his body.

And the telepath watched it. His eyelids were lowered as he looked down between them, his lips soft, his brow faintly creased, and he let out a gravelly moan when he thrust again.

This was hot. This was what people talked about when they said things were hot.

Ken took a deep breath. "I don't have any lube."

Jin flashed a crooked smile, softening the intensity in his face, but not erasing it. "Next time."

Next time? Commit to a next time? Ken shook his head.

"What?" Jin met his eyes then with an amused look that was somehow shockingly intimate. "Next time," he promised again, and started moving down Ken's body.

Ken started to tense up as Jin's mouth approached his navel. He laid his head back, exhaling slowly. Everything felt good. Jin was good at it, and he knew how to do it. But still, Ken flinched subtly when Jin kissed his inner thigh.

"Relax." Jin's soft, warm palm was stroking Ken's other thigh, soothing.

"It's hard," Ken whispered back without thinking, but reached down and put his hand on Jin's head, working his fingers into his hair to show he wasn't quitting.

Jin kissed and stroked his thighs and hips, his hand moving along the length of Ken's cock as he took his time. Finally, his wet lips and tongue were teasing that terrifyingly sensitive skin, and Ken wondered how stupid it would sound to tell him not to bite, please, but then _oh God_.

Ken felt his eyes roll back, his hips floating for a moment, and then his body tightened and he realized his hand was clenched in Jin's hair. He let it go, raising his hand to his face instead, covering his mouth as his spine arched and his thighs trembled without his permission.

Jesus, it was like Jin was controlling his body. What the fuck was he _doing_?

Ken couldn't even comprehend the lips or the tongue or the hands, just a delicious, electric mass of pleasure writhing wildly between his legs.

And then he felt the tip of his cock pushing through the tight, hot channel of Jin's throat. He gave a low cry, shuddering, and grabbed Jin's hair again. It was so good, Jin's throat contracting and squeezing, his fingers teasing behind his balls, and then there was a hum of vibration around his cock that he felt to the tips of his fingers.

"Wait," he gasped, pulling at Jin's hair. "Wait, you..."

But this time Jin didn't stop. His wet tongue kept sliding, his hot mouth kept sucking, his slick lips kept—

Ken threw his face into the crook of his arm as everything exploded.

There was a long moment when all of reality disappeared except for Jin's head between his legs and torrent after torrent of pleasure.

It was dark, swirling and exquisite, washing through him in big, beautiful waves.

It was bigger than the world.

It was better than anything.

It was like going to space.

He gasped for breath as it subsided, the spasms of pleasure fading from the edges of his body and leaving him dazed and weightless.

Jin gently pulled his lips from Ken's spent cock and kissed his stomach, making him shiver. He had swallowed it, Ken realized with numb fascination and a strange flash of heat.

Jin moved up his body again, pausing to press hot kisses along the length of his torso, until he could bury his face in Ken's neck. His erection was a hot, pulsing shape between them, and when Ken reached down to touch it, Jin's sharp gasp made it clear that hadn't been expected.

It was startling the way it felt in his hand, the rigid flesh and smooth skin, and it was embarrassing how clumsy he was after Jin had done it so well.

"How?" Ken whispered helplessly.

"Just like that," Jin exhaled in a rush against Ken's cheek, feverishly stroking his hair. "Just...shit, that's it, yeah." A tight groan spilled from his throat.

Ken could feel it, Jin's dick clenching in his hand.

_"Fuck_ , Ken," Jin choked out, just before he shoved his hips into Ken's hand and muffled a shout in his neck.

Ken's free hand had somehow crept up onto Jin's shoulders and he found himself almost embracing the telepath. His palm absorbed the tremors of Jin's orgasm, feeling the smooth muscles of his back. And it felt good, somehow.

As Jin moaned and rocked into his hand, Ken's own body shivered with a few lingering sparks of pleasure, soft aftershocks that warmed his blood again. It was like he was somewhere else. Some strange place where everything was simple, and everything felt good. He closed his eyes.

At last Jin slid to the bed beside him, breathing heavily.

Ken's heart was still pounding, and his body still felt loose and relaxed.

But his hand was wet and sticky, a feeling he loathed, so he started to sit up.

"Hold on," Jin said, groping for his trunks on the bed and taking hold of Ken's wrist. He used them to carefully wipe the semen from Ken's fingers, and then his own.

This was weird.

Everything that had just happened was weird.

Ken didn't know if he wanted to get up or lie down. He didn't know if he wanted Jin to go or stay. He didn't even know if it bothered him that Jin pulled him back down to the bed, or if it didn't bother him at all.

But trying to figure it all out was decidedly uncomfortable. He needed a minute to think. So he pushed Jin's arm away and got up, ignoring the sound of protest and heading to the shower.

With the door closed and locked, Ken leaned back against it and breathed out. Then he looked at his hand, shining with evidence. It was like he could still feel it, the warmth and the stiffness of it, and Jin's breath on his neck, and his trembling thighs.

Jesus!

What the hell?

Ken pushed away from the door and stomped into the shower.

#  38. Biting the Bullet

Ken trudged out in the powdery sand until he was a good distance from the house, then turned back and stared at it. No one was moving inside, not that he could see. The lights were on. He turned and looked around the beach. The only people he saw were far in the distance. The ocean purred where the waves hit the sand. All around him he had space, and he could see anyone who might approach him. It was good. He liked it.

He sat down in the sand.

An hour ago, he'd found David hanging from the balcony. The Irish boy had waited for Aki to fall asleep and then promptly rigged a belt around the railing outside his room. He was hanging there for a while before Ken wandered out on the downstairs deck, looked up, and saw him dangling.

He wasn't hurt. When Ken dashed upstairs and hauled him back onto the balcony, David just sighed and rolled his eyes. He probably wouldn't have looked Ken in the eye, except Ken smacked him in the face, and that seemed to jolt him awake. He looked up at Ken and said he was sorry, and he seemed to mean it. He almost looked surprised at himself.

Clearly the guy was drifting in and out of his senses. There was no use asking him to try harder, or be patient. It was just a weird urge, Ken figured. They all knew David couldn't die that easily, couldn't even get hurt. Maybe he just wanted to pretend he could for a minute. Maybe he'd been sleepwalking.

Ken didn't know. Couldn't guess. But what if Aki had found David like that? Ken shuddered to think about it.

David was in bed now. Ken had crept into Aki's room and grabbed the pills and commanded David to take one. There wasn't an argument. So now everyone in the house was asleep, he hoped.

If Aki had found him, though...

So Ken called Sky, reaching out over their empathic link as loudly as he could and demanding that he come immediately.

It took a long time for the blond to show up. Well, an hour. Ken was used to waiting a whole lot longer. He heard his brother's feet in the sand first, and watched him approach from down the beach.

Sky dropped to his knees beside Ken, looking at him in horror and shame and total bewilderment.

"Everything's okay?" Sky asked, his voice raw.

"No, dumbass. Everything is not okay."

Sky's shoulders sagged and he dropped his gaze to his lap, anxious and forlorn.

Ken lifted a handful of sand and let it trickle out, scowling.

"It's good to see you," Sky whispered. "I wanted to see you so bad."

"Stop it," Ken said.

He hated the emotion Sky blasted at him. The blond was looking at him now with ragged, exposed longing that made him want to punch his beautiful face. The way he looked at Ken was kind of like Jin had looked at him at some points last night. But less hot. More needy.

Ken grimaced, regretting the comparison.

"Why did you call me?" Sky asked.

Here it was. Ken had never intended to do this, to ask for Sky's help again. But here he went. "You have to come back and help David."

Sky immediately shook his head. "I can't. He's too messed up. I can't handle his feelings."

"If someone doesn't help him, he'll wear Aki out. And then he'll probably wear Lip out, too. And then probably Mark."

"What do you mean?"

"He's crazy."

Sky frowned, startled. "David? He's not...he's upset, but he's not crazy. Just give him some time."

"No. You're wrong. He needs help."

"How do you know?"

"I just know. Like I know it wasn't your idea to wake them up."

Sky blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"I can't prove it. But I know it was Jackson's idea."

"What..."

"I think he got that fucking stupid empath to fuck with you and made you do it."

"No," Sky said, shaking his head, confused. "Ken, I _did_ it."

"Why? Why would you?"

"I don't know, because I'm stupid and I have stupid ideas. I thought it would help. I thought...I don't know, but I did it, I'm telling you."

Ken let out a groan, throwing his head back in irritation. "Whatever. I'm asking you to help David. Help Aki with him."

Sky fell silent. Ken could feel him processing the request, his surprise at the possibility that Ken needed him for something, and his confusion over Ken's suggestion that this wasn't his fault.

Finally Sky said, "David would never let me close. Luke never liked me and David didn't want to be woken up. He'll be pissed."

"He just wants to stop feeling like this. And you're an empath. How complicated can this be?"

"I don't know. I don't know how to do something like...whatever I would do."

"So figure it out," Ken said, exasperated. "Don't you get how bad it is? He'll just get worse like this. You have to at least work on the death thing. Make him less obsessed. I know how it works. I know an empath can do that."

"Why are you so worried about David?"

"I'm worried about _Aki_."

He was frustrated that Sky wasn't following, but at the same time, this conversation wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. There was something slightly different about Sky. Maybe his time at ARSI had calmed him down a little. That was good.

Better than nothing, at least. Anything was better than before.

"Okay. I'll try," Sky said at last. "But Aki won't like it. It was bad enough before, what I did to him, but this is worse, maybe. He won't trust me to get near David."

"So," Ken looked down at the sand again, drawing a circle with his finger. "I'll talk to him. I'll tell him it wasn't your fault."

Sky shook his head slowly, studying Ken. "I don't understand. You think Jackson had his empath trick me into doing this and thinking it was my idea?"

"Yeah."

There was definitely something different about Sky. It was weird the way the blond was slowing down to understand what he was saying, for once.

"But why?" Sky asked.

"Because he wanted her, maybe." That was all he wanted to say about it. He hardly trusted Sky with his suspicions. "I'll convince them. So will you help?"

"Yeah. If..." Sky nodded. "Yeah. If they'll let me, I'll try."

Ken felt Sky's guilt and self-disgust pulsing just below the surface, and grimaced. He hated that shit. He climbed to his feet, meaning to head back to the house, but then, with a long sigh, he stepped back and looked down at Sky.

"Sky," he said.

"Yeah?" Sky looked up at him. Ken had never seen such dark circles under his eyes.

"It wasn't your fault."

The blond stared at him in more surprise and confusion.

"I might be the only one who knows it. But I know this wasn't your fault. I'm sure you wouldn't have done it." He waited for it to sink in. "So, just...try. Try to help, okay?"

"Thank you," Sky said. "For thinking that. I..."

Ken waved a hand and started trudging back to the house.

"So when should I come?" Sky called.

"Tomorrow. We'll go to ARSI."

Behind him, Ken felt Sky's buzz of relief over the fact that he wasn't pissed.

It felt okay.
Part 3:

Hard Games

#  1. Jin, Jackson, Jen, Jealous

It was a long way to the top of the winding road to Jackson Gadamer's current headquarters in the Pacific Palisades. Jin gunned his motorcycle as fast as he dared, making the most of every sharp turn. The gated driveways shooting off from the route led to the palaces of Los Angeles's elite, and their thoughts glittered in his head as he whipped by.

Usually this was a pleasant drive, all the more so because Jackson was waiting at the end of it. Jin hadn't seen much of Jackson or the team in the five months since he'd left for Paris after Wilhelm Strauss took control of Klaus Gadamer Academy.

He pulled into the driveway feeling moody and sour. Usually, yeah, he'd be thrilled to be here. But when he parked his bike in the garage and pulled off his helmet, he was brooding. For some reason, he was grouchy as all hell.

For some reason. Some fucking reason. Some pale, skinny, green-eyed reason he hadn't seen in a week.

Leaning back on his bike, Jin lit a cigarette and listened in on Jackson's house. His teammates were inside. Rinzen, the telekinetic, was cooking up some weird root vegetables in the kitchen. Vanni, the empath, was browsing photos of murder victims on a laptop. Jackson, as usual, remained invisible.

And tonight there was a new addition to the mix: Jen, a notorious hybrid Talent whose monstrous powers had driven her completely mad until Jackson _kindly_ took her under his wing a couple of weeks ago. She was sitting in the living room and calmly waiting for Jin to survey her head.

Jin should have been looking forward to such an interesting job. It should have been enough to distract him from his foul mood. But it wasn't. All he could think was _Fuck this_. What a shitty way to spend a Friday night in LA.

Giovanni's thoughts came streaming into his head. _Why don't you ask Jackson for a rain check? Tell him you've gotta go beg a teenager for sex._

Jin kept his emotions schooled, not wanting the empath to pick up any more than he already did. _Why don't you jerk off to something that's still alive?_

_I could._ This time, instead of projecting words, Vanni pictured himself with Ken—Ken, naked, kneeling at his feet.

Jin broke his cigarette in half, seething.

Vanni let the fantasy fade and drifted back to his hobby, no doubt feeling smug. Jin tried to shrug it off. The empath was just making shit up. It wasn't like he'd ever seen Ken naked.

Jin had. And he could picture it anytime he wanted to. The memories weren't even a week old.

If he wanted to he could _clearly_ picture the muscles shifting beneath Ken's white, scarred skin, the sharp curve of a shoulder blade as his shirt came off, the shocked sound he made when Jin swallowed his cock.

If he wanted to.

He lit another cigarette, boiling. The green-eyed shithead hadn't acknowledged him since that night. No, he'd run off to ARSI and refused to answer Jin's calls.

A week of silence.

Like nothing had happened between them at all.

Fuck. What the hell had Jackson gotten him into?

Five months ago, the whole team had been posted up in a mansion in the backwoods of Thailand, working on a project with opium tycoons. It was much more boring than it sounded, although boring wasn't something to complain about when your life belonged to KGA.

Then Jackson called him into his office and dropped the news that Wilhelm Strauss had taken command of the whole shebang. Killed off a couple members of the Board and elected himself President and Commander in Chief.

Jin couldn't imagine a worse development. KGA was a brutal, fascistic organization, but even in the context of KGA, Strauss stood out as a sadistic maniac. The prodigious empath literally specialized in systematic psychic torture. Strauss personally tested every potential KGA Talent with a traumatic psychic assault intended to trigger a full manifestation of their abilities. About half recovered, albeit with all the fight ripped out of them. The ones who didn't recover—shields obliterated, sanity shattered—got thrown to the labs, where live specimens were always in demand.

Nine years ago, Jackson had pulled Jin out of those labs.

Strauss _loathed_ Jackson. Loathed him for his name, for his status, for his popularity with KGA leadership, for the autonomy it bought him. The thought of Strauss at the helm of KGA was fucking terrifying.

But Jackson didn't seem concerned at all. Of course the man had a plan. He always had a plan. This time he had a _big-ass_ plan—one he'd been cooking up for a long, long time.

"Go to Paris," Jackson had told Jin in Thailand. "As of this moment, you're on the run from KGA. We'll catch up with you shortly." In Paris, he explained, Jin would find a cell of exceptional rogue Talents with unusually sophisticated shields, and they would offer him asylum.

And that was why, for the past five months, Jin had been hanging out with the homeschooled kids.

They were as exceptional as Jackson had promised, although their strengths were countered by what struck Jin as an astonishing ignorance of how Talent worked and how to take care of it. That was the cost, he supposed, of growing up outside the Talent Industrial Complex. Most of them were physical and cognitive Talents, but there were a few psychics in their orbit. Predictably, considering their lack of guidance, the psychics hadn't been doing too hot.

There was one, though, who had his shit together. One strange, enigmatic, scrawny brat with cool, eerie eyes two different shades of green. One fascinating, indecipherable creature with a Talent so big and weird Jin hadn't even begun to figure out what he could do.

Five months. Five months since he'd met Ken.

"Jin."

The telepath looked up from the concrete floor of the garage and found Jackson standing in the doorway, dressed, as usual, in a tailored shirt and trousers that called attention to the perfect cut of his body, the Roman godliness of him.

Jin had a sudden, almost panicked urge to rip Jackson's clothes off just to drink in those gladiator muscles—to remind himself that pale, wiry, banged-up Ken had nothing on this man.

Except he did.

Goddammit. How was it that he fucking _did_?

"Are you all right?"

Jin focused on Jackson's face again, sharpening. Coming from Jackson, that question wasn't gentle. It was critical. Prick. "I'm fine," Jin answered coolly. He got off the bike, all too aware of Jackson's watchful gaze. "What?"

Jackson descended the short set of steps into the garage, looking Jin over. "Your Talent?"

Jin scoffed, offended. "My Talent's fucking fine."

"Better than your temper, one hopes."

"I don't _have_ to be here."

"Yes, you do," Jackson said with his usual impassive authority.

"Well, fuck me if you all don't suck the fun right out of it."

Jackson stepped into his path and looked down at him. The prophet radiated enough power and authority from his little finger that the extra couple of inches in height always seemed unfair.

Not that it didn't turn Jin on. It did.

Ken was a little shorter than Jin. Maybe he felt the same way. _Motherfucker,_ it was like the little shit had stamped himself into his _brain_...

"Things aren't going as you hoped?" Jackson asked.

Jin fumbled for the right mode to respond in, defaulting to audacity. "You wanna talk about my new boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend," Jackson repeated in a calm tone just lightly polished with condescension. "Yes, I would like to talk about your new boyfriend. But not tonight."

"Jesus," Jin muttered, and maneuvered past Jackson. He stopped before the door to the house and turned around, holding out his hands. "What are we doing?"

Jackson put his hands in his pockets, his hazel eyes as cool and steady as ever. "I want you to give Jennifer a reading. There's no particular objective. I only want to hear your impressions and any interesting thoughts or memories you may come across."

Jin considered this. He _was_ interested in Jen. She was a real terror. When he first arrived in Paris to join the homeschooled Talents, they'd been reeling from the damage she'd done. In a psychotic fit she had turned on her old friends and their new friends, fatally injuring one and traumatizing another.

She got killed in the end. But some Talents were too powerful to stay dead. Especially Talents who had parts to play in Jackson's plans.

It was all riveting enough, but Jin wasn't in the mood to be entertained.

"How's the Zombie Queen holding up?" he asked.

Jackson raised an eyebrow, disapproving. "You may not fear her, Jin, but you might summon some respect."

"Why? You think she'll come after me, too?"

The precognitive's eyes were colder now, and he closed the distance between them to stare down at Jin again. "Has your time away made you forget your manners?"

Jin snorted. "Did I ever have any manners?"

"I understand you're experiencing some friction with Ken. But I expect you to leave your problems outside."

"I know how to do my job," Jin said through his teeth, riled by Jackson's insinuations. "I don't remember you being so _sensitive_ , for fuck's sake."

"Perhaps you've also forgotten that we're at war with KGA. I don't know why else you'd be surprised that I have less patience than usual for your provocations."

"Jesus, _fine_!"

Jackson examined him for another moment, giving him that look Jin hated, the one that made him feel like the precognitive was reassessing his value. And just when Jin was about to snap at him again, Jackson nodded. "A simple scan will do. Then I want to speak to you." He looked past Jin at the door, then back at his face. "Shall we?"

Jin didn't answer, but stepped aside and grandly gestured for the precognitive to precede him into the house.

Even in his irritation, he couldn't help breathing in the scent of the man as he passed, the faintest, most tantalizing hint of something smoky and expensive. Son of a bitch knew how to wear cologne.

Despite his extreme foul mood, Jackson's presence aroused a familiar hunger for his attention. As furious as the precognitive made Jin—and _damn_ Jackson could be infuriating—his hooks went deep. Jin had fought it for years before he learned to accept it. By then it was an integral part of his existence. Wanting Jackson, trusting Jackson, being ready to die for Jackson.

It was hard on his pride sometimes, but whatever. Not like he had better options. Not only had the precognitive pulled him out of KGA's reach, but he kept Jin sane. That was a perk Jin couldn't resist. Once he got a taste of madness, he was prepared to do anything to keep it at bay.

It wasn't easy being a psychic. Jennifer Mitchell wasn't the only one who'd lost control. Sanity had slipped away from Jin more than once, and every time, it was Jackson who gave it back to him.

It could always happen again. Exhaustion, psychic strain, they could trigger it. A flashback to his time with Strauss, that could do it. And only Jackson could _un_ -do it. Being alone with the precognitive and his Talent was the only medicine that worked. The cool, impenetrable nothingness of his mind soothed Jin's telepathy like a magic spell. When things got rough in Jin's head, sometimes it seemed like Jackson was the solid stone foundation upon which reality was built, the eye of the hurricane of outside thoughts that threatened to erode a telepath's sanity.

_Jin_ didn't think that, obviously. Just his Talent did. He couldn't help it.

There was something like that with Ken, too. His mind was the same kind of cool stone fortress, offered the same atmosphere of precious silence...

Jin came to a sudden stop in the living room.

Jennifer Mitchell was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Not his type, exactly, but she was a pleasant shock to the senses, and he was content to stare at her as he skimmed the surface of her mind. It had quite the gravitational pull, drawing his Talent in immediately. Like a black hole.

"Jin, this is Jennifer Mitchell," Jackson said, standing at ease beside him.

Jin nodded in greeting, studying her green eyes as he slipped into the upper layers of her thoughts, expertly feeling his way through the channels that led deeper inside. He skimmed and filed information without pausing to register what it was, letting his Talent, experience and instincts sift it for him.

She did nothing but passively allow him to study her, but he could still feel her Talent reacting to him. It was thick and dark on all sides, churning with raw power. Exploring her mind was like swimming upstream in rough waters. No wonder she'd gone nuts.

"Jennifer," Jackson continued. "This is Jin, our telepath and my confidant. The first person I approached with my mission to take down KGA."

Jin felt an actual jolt of shock, and looked at Jackson in uncharacteristic candor. What the hell kind of remark was that? Since when did Jackson mention their relationship? _Confidant_? What the hell?

His surprise distracted him from his path through her head, and he had to focus even harder for a moment to recover from the stumble. Jin frowned, angry at himself for the slip—and annoyed with Jackson for throwing a curveball while he was in the zone.

"Nice to meet you, Jin." Apart from her extravagant beauty, she was one of the most normal-looking Talents he'd ever met. Relaxed and graceful. Not what he'd expected.

"Likewise," Jin replied. Her Talent was starting to pound at his shields, louder and harder the deeper he went. Shit. As careful as he'd been, he predicted a hell of a headache later.

It had been a minute since he'd started. Jackson was standing beside him, calmly reading a message on his phone, and now he slipped it into his pocket. "My office, Jin."

Gratefully Jin turned away and followed Jackson down the hall, easing his way out of Jen's mind until he was totally free.

Vertigo hit him immediately, and he swerved as the hallway twisted and spun around him. Reflexively he reached for the wall to steady himself, and would have stumbled if Jackson hadn't caught his arm in a steely grip and pulled him upright.

Jin closed his eyes, jaw clenched, and let Jackson walk him the rest of the way to the office.

Goddammit. He knew what it meant, the sudden, sickening feeling of decompression that had overwhelmed him upon pulling out of her head.

It meant his Talent was bruised.

Goddammit.

Jackson closed the office door behind them and steered Jin to a leather wing chair facing the desk. "Sit."

Jin slid into the chair, fuming, miserable. He was already concentrating on the precognitive's head, letting his Talent wrap itself around the cool stone monument of his mind. Quiet, calm, and impenetrable. Blessedly silent.

Jackson leaned back against the desk and looked him over. "Do you need a moment?"

"No," Jin said, annoyed that this was happening after Jackson's digs in the garage. "What the hell was that?"

Jackson shrugged. "A powerful wild Talent."

"That's what you're calling it now?"

"Untrained. Uncultivated. Undisciplined."

"I get it. But the rest of them don't feel like that."

"They're not as powerful, and they have excellent shields. She only has what we've helped her build so far. Her mind is more chaotic."

"I _get_ that," Jin said impatiently, growing irritable.

"Did she bruise your Talent?"

"No," Jin lied, scowling. "Maybe."

"What happened? Was there something malignant in her mind?"

"Malignant?" Jin sighed heavily, twice as pissed off now as he'd been when he arrived. "No. Just dense, unruly. Felt like her Talent was pounding on me. But, hey. Maybe it's just overload."

Jackson eyed him critically. "I hope you're keeping up with your training."

"No, I just sit on my ass eating cheese all day," Jin snapped. Asshole. "You're welcome, by the way, for pulling more in a minute than any other telepath could get you in ten readings. _Excuse me_ if I'm a little _fucking winded_."

Jackson was smirking. Jin loved that face on him, even if it only came out when the man was being a phenomenal dick. "I look forward to reviewing that information. And there is no telepath who can compare to you, Jin. I'm as astonished as ever by what you can do."

"Oh." Jin narrowed his eyes. "Now you wanna sweet-talk me?"

"Don't be absurd." Jackson crossed his arms, looking casually authoritative. "Would you like to tell me how things are going with Ken?"

Things? What did he mean, _things_? Jackson was always so fucking weird about Ken. Every time the topic came up Jin just felt aggravated, confused, like there was something he wasn't getting, a piece of the puzzle he'd lost. That was par for the course with Jackson, but for some reason it had started to piss him off like never before.

"Nothing to report, Jackson," Jin said evenly. "Haven't seen him in a week."

"Why not?"

Jin glared at him. Like Jackson didn't know everything. Fucking precognitives. "He went to ARSI with Aki and that Irish wacko you brought back with Jen. Pretty rude to leave that kid's twin dead, by the way, don't you think?"

"Did Ken tell you he was leaving?"

No, he did not. No, as a matter of fact Jin had woken up alone in Ken's bed. As a matter of fact when Jin came back late the next night, the kid was nowhere to be found. As a matter of fact he didn't see why Jackson cared.

"What do you really want to know?" Jin demanded.

"Never mind," the precognitive said. "It's not why I called you here."

"Oh?"

"You and I are going to cut ties for awhile."

Jin pushed his knuckles against his temple, closing his eyes as a dull pain began to collect there. With a seething kind of calm he asked, " _What_?"

"You will no longer be privy to the core of our operations."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"I need you to stay close to them. They're getting more careful, and I don't want them suspecting you're my informant."

"So it'll just be you, Rin, Vanni and Jen, huh?" Jin's lips curled. "That's the new dream team?"

"This is the most freedom you've ever had, Jin. I only ask you to remember your loyalty to us, to answer the phone when I call, and to come when I need you. I'm just muting a conflict of interest. You should be glad."

"You think they won't be suspicious about _this_?"

"They have their own way of thinking about things."

"So they're idiots."

"They are not idiots. They merely live by a different code. Now please pay attention."

Jin gave a guttural groan, rolling his head back on the chair. "I _am_!"

"There's a strong chance that these Talents will come into contact with KGA. That includes Ken. As a psychic, he needs to be prepared."

Jin propped his head on his hand, staring at Jackson. What the fuck was the man saying now? "So, what?" He shrugged. "You wanna bring him in for training? Good luck, after Seville." Jackson's only encounter with Ken had been catastrophic, thanks to Vanni being an asshole and provoking the weird young Talent into a fight.

"That's the point," Jackson said patiently. "We're cutting ties so you can remain close to Ken. Because _you're_ going to train him."

"Do you pay attention to anything I say?" Jin demanded, sitting forward and throwing out his hands in exasperation. "What the hell makes you think Ken and I are on those kinds of terms?"

"I know exactly what terms you and Ken are on."

Jin just glared back at him, boiling. He didn't know whether he was pissed at Jackson, or Jen, or Ken, or his growing headache, or just everything in general. But he was _pissed_.

"Jin, are you following me?"

"Yes. We're cutting ties for a while. So the wild critters will chill out about..." he waved a hand.

"About what?"

"Me and Ken," Jin replied loudly.

"Yes." Jackson nodded. "And what are you going to do?"

"Train him," Jin muttered, closing his eyes to think. It hurt. "Show him some tricks. Maybe it won't be that hard. Nobody else is teaching him anything." He shook his head, admitting the viability of Jackson's orders. "Fine. I can do it. I think."

If he could get Ken to talk to him again.

Christ. Maybe he'd gone too far. Maybe he shouldn't have sucked him off.

But Ken _started_ it. And Ken didn't stop it. Wasn't exactly passive about it, either. Jin's stomach tightened with some kind of hunger when he thought about Ken's tongue in his mouth, Ken's hands on his ass.

"And the last thing, Jin. Be honest with him. Answer his questions."

Jin squinted skeptically at him. "He's not throwing softballs, General."

"Use your judgment and be as truthful as you can. Tell him about KGA, and about the team and me. You'll never earn his trust otherwise."

"Fine. Got it."

"Good." Jackson was still studying him with the same calm, analytical gaze.

Jin stared back, fuming. This sucked. At least when they were still working for KGA, they'd been side by side. Now Jackson was always somewhere else. Now Jin had to do everything on his own, without the team's support, without Jackson's stabilizing presence. It was hard, especially during weeks like this one, when Ken wasn't paying attention to him. Maybe he'd been leaning on Ken's quiet shields more than he'd realized. Shit, he didn't even want to think about that.

So what was he supposed to do with his wounded Talent tonight? Run off to the desert where he wouldn't have to hear anyone? He wanted to spend the night here, where the precognitive's smooth, solid mind would put him at ease.

"I think it's best you see him as soon as possible," Jackson said.

Jin sighed. "What?"

"Your Talent is bruised. From what you've told me, his mind should have much the same effect on your Talent as mine."

_"Da_." He tried to ignore how much it bothered him that Jackson knew that. "So? He's not here."

"He's coming back from ARSI with David and Aki as we speak. They've had a productive week." Jackson shook his head in apparent amusement. "That pitiful empath has finally found a way to be useful."

"Sky?" Jin squinted. He hadn't seen Ken's histrionic brother in months. Jackson had used Sky to resurrect Jen and David, making him think it was his own idea. The last Jin heard, the sad little hooker had disappeared.

"As you know, Ken suspected Sky wasn't to blame for what he did." Jackson smoothly avoided actually admitting that Ken was right. "He shared those suspicions with the other Talents, and then asked Sky to help calm David down."

"Drama," Jin muttered, shaking his head. "So is Sky coming back to LA, too?"

"No," Jackson said. "He'll stay at ARSI with Mark."

"How are you getting away with this?" Jin asked, perplexed. "If Ken told them it wasn't Sky's fault, he probably told them he thinks it was you behind it. Why haven't they turned on me?"

"They don't have the evidence to accuse me, and they're not in a position to refuse an alliance with us. Besides, they know Ken might need your help with his Talent again."

"Hm." Jin's eyeballs were aching, and the buzz of thoughts from the others in the house was quickly starting to feel like sandpaper on his Talent.

"You should go," Jackson said. "We'll discuss your reading of Jennifer when you've recovered. Other than that, contact will be minimal."

"Anything else?"

"That's all."

Jin got up from the chair and stood facing Jackson. "You sure?" he asked pointedly. Pissed or not, it sounded like he wouldn't be seeing Jackson for a while, and he wasn't going to squander his goodbye.

Jackson sighed quietly, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "Come here."

That was more like it. Jin pushed his irritation aside. Focusing on the precognitive's perfect face, Jin crossed the room and stood before him. He was rewarded with the firm grip of Jackson's arm around his waist and a kiss that burned all the way down his spine.

"You're doing perfectly, Jin," Jackson murmured against his lips. "We're almost there. Keep following your instincts."

Jin grabbed the man by the back of the neck and pulled him into another kiss, only letting it end when he was short of breath. "My instincts tell me to sit on your dick right now," he said, running his hand down Jackson's side to feel the ridges of muscle through his shirt.

Jackson smiled and shook his head. "We're all making sacrifices."

Reluctantly, Jin pulled away.

Jackson's praise did soothe him, as always. But he didn't feel good about any of this. Not about the increased distance between them, and definitely not about the weird aggravation he felt whenever Jackson asked about Ken.

He knew Jackson had a plan, that he was working toward toppling KGA. But Jin had learned not to bother himself with the details of Jackson's schemes. Jackson gave him orders, Jin followed him, it all worked out. That was fine. The future wasn't Jin's thing. Like all telepaths, he found the present was more than enough to handle.

He was already looking forward to hitting the road and getting out of there. The visit had been a huge pain in the ass.

And to top it all off, when he got back to the garage, he heard Giovanni's voice in his head again.

_You didn't figure it out_.

Jin sighed at the smirking tone of the Italian's thoughts. _Figure what out?_ He put on his helmet and started up.

They're fucking.

"What?" Jin said out loud.

_Jennifer Mitchell and Jackson Gadamer are fucking_.

"Liar," Jin said, disarmed. _You're lying._

Vanni sent his evidence across, memories for Jin's consideration: Jennifer and Jackson watching each other. Her showering in Jackson's bathroom. Jackson grabbing her by the waist on the dark lawn and kissing her the way he'd just kissed Jin.

Jin's headache hit new heights. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

He wasn't jealous. Jackson fucked women sometimes. And Jin fucked anyone he wanted.

He wasn't jealous. He'd never been jealous.

He wasn't.

But he did not like it. And he wanted to see Ken.

More than he wanted to go back in there and mad-fuck Jackson's brains out, he wanted to see Ken.

He had to get this under control tonight. Get Ken on his side again. Whatever the demon brat's problem was, Jin had to figure it out. Ken didn't want his dick sucked? Fine. Whatever. But Jin still wanted to see him.

And what choice did he have now, anyway?

#  2. Ken Comes Home to a Mess

Ken couldn't wait to get back to Los Angeles. After a week at ARSI's compound a few hours from the city, he was feeling restless.

The place was okay. Lip, Kel and Mark had been working fast to build it up after leaving their old headquarters behind in France. Ken hadn't really understood what the so-called Alternative Research and Security Institute was all about before this week. Lip, Kel and Mark were like CIA agents, or FBI, or whatever James Bond was. Something like that. Except they were the ones in charge, doing their own research and recruiting and training people. It was impressive.

Things had gone well, he guessed. Sky's empathic therapy seemed to have worked on David, at least to the point where he was no longer obsessed with killing himself again. And Sky hadn't even been a complete pain in the ass. Ken barely had to talk to him. Maybe he really was learning not to be such a crazy baby all the time.

Anyway, it was still a dull, dreary week, and Ken was glad to be in the car with Aki and David, driving up the coast toward the house. David was silent the whole time, curled up in the backseat as though asleep, though Ken knew somehow that he really wasn't.

"You want to go anywhere before we go home?" Aki asked.

It was weird, but Aki seemed more sure of himself since David had come back. Ken had expected it to be harder for him, since he was still mourning Luke, and David was Luke's identical twin. But it seemed to help him focus.

"No," Ken replied. "I'm gonna go to the beach."

"All right." Aki looked thoughtful. "That was a good decision, Ken. Asking for Sky's help. Thank you."

Ken wasn't sure what to say, but he always felt a twinge of pride whenever Aki expressed his approval. "Sky did okay."

"Yeah." Aki glanced in the rearview mirror, but David didn't seem to be listening. "I was surprised how serious he was. Seemed liked he was trying." Aki paused. "It really got to him, I think. The fact that you were so sure he didn't do anything wrong."

"This time."

"This time," Aki agreed, cracking a smile. "Anyway, he didn't see it coming. You taking his side."

Ken sighed, rolling his eyes and looking out the window. "Didn't take his side," he grumbled. "Just said what was true."

The other Talents were surprisingly open to Ken's suggestion that Jackson had somehow orchestrated Jen and David's resurrection. Sky was still insisting it was his own idea, but as usual, he was dumb and wrong. Ken _knew_ it was Jackson. He knew. And Lip, Mark, Kel and Aki believed him.

"Mark seemed really mad," Ken said, remembering the dark look on Mark's face when Ken shared his suspicions.

"Yeah, 'cause of Jen."

Ken looked at Aki in surprise.

"Mark's mad because they had to pass Jen over to Jackson." Aki's voice took on a dry edge. "And Jackson went out of his way to tell Lip he won't let Jen and Mark have any contact."

David spoke up suddenly. "Mark's bein' a fuckin' wanker."

Ken and Aki looked quickly over their shoulders, then at each other. Aki seemed relieved, like he always did whenever David showed some sign of life. "Yeah," Aki said, "when it comes to her, Mark can be a fuckin' wanker."

Ken smiled at the way the words sounded in Aki's cool, dignified voice.

"Can't blame 'im," David said blankly. "Love's forever, an' all."

"I don't blame him at all," Aki said. "I just don't care to witness it."

David said nothing more, and the car was silent the rest of the way home.

Back at the house, David went straight for his room. Aki and Ken went to the kitchen, where Ken was privately dismayed to realize there'd be no leftovers in the fridge when they'd been gone a week.

Aki took out a large bottle of cold black tea and poured them each a glass, then leaned back against the sink and sipped it with a contemplative look. Ken was always impressed by how cool Aki looked doing the most ordinary things. He always held his body in fluid, elegant lines. Maybe it was because he was a physical Talent. Or maybe he was just cool.

"Ken," Aki said at length, "I know I don't need to say it. But be careful with Jin, all right?"

Ken nodded.

"If you feel like anything's off, you can tell me." Aki turned to wash his glass in the sink. "Ask me whatever. Don't hesitate."

"Okay." In truth, Ken didn't get why they were always telling him that. As far as he knew, he was the only one whose thoughts Jin couldn't read. If he wanted to keep any secrets from Jin, he couldn't tell anyone.

Still, it always felt good to be reminded of Aki's support, and when Aki stepped away from the sink and slung an arm around Ken's shoulders for a quick, brotherly hug, Ken didn't mind at all.

There was no explanation for why he'd trusted Aki from the start. Nine months ago, when Ken had just escaped the nightmarish torture brothel where he'd been confined all his life and made his way across Europe to track down these Talents, it was Luke who stepped forward to clean him up and heal his wounds. It was Luke who reassured him, taught him to read and write, even how to talk.

But when Ken looked back on those early days, what he remembered most was the fierce strength in Aki's eyes. Somehow, before Ken had even wrapped his head around the concept that there were people who had no desire to hurt him, he instantly knew that Aki was on his side—and that he'd be grateful for it.

And he was right. When Jen came looking for Ken that day, hoping to lure him away and exploit his Talent, Aki was the one who stood in the way. That was why she blasted Aki's mind to pieces and then took Luke instead of Ken. A few weeks later she was dead, but a few weeks after that Luke was dead, too. And Aki was still recovering from what she'd done to him. She'd wrecked his shields, left his mind raw and vulnerable, and even stunted his physical Talent. All that Aki loved was crushed.

Aki barely even _knew_ Ken when he gave up everything to protect him. Ken still didn't know much about the world, but he knew Aki was worth a thousand people. A million. A billion. Probably more.

Aki clapped Ken on the back and gave him a small smile before he turned away. Ken watched him leave the kitchen, cross the living room and disappear into the hall.

Things seemed calm for the time being. Ken wondered how long that would last.

Upstairs in his room, he opened the nightstand and took out Jin's pack of cigarettes. Then he went out on the deck, pulled out a lighter he'd picked up during the week, and lit one of the cigarettes experimentally.

It didn't taste as good as it looked. And it was impossible not to think about where he'd gotten the pack. Swiped them from Jin that night, and then dropped them on the deck—so caught up in kissing the telepath he hadn't even noticed them fall.

Dammit.

It was his own fault. It was his own idea to do it in the first place. But it was Jin's fault he ever thought about it. The telepath was always giving him those curious looks, finding ways to touch him.

And it might have been Ken who kissed him the first time in that hotel in the desert, but Jin had _started_ it. Putting a hand on the back of his neck. Staring up at him with that weird, serious look that always caught him off guard. No way the telepath hadn't known what he was doing.

Still. It was Ken's own fault it went any further. He was the one who pushed it that next night, right here on the deck, and _why_? Just because he wanted to try it, he guessed, just to get it over with and off his mind.

But he might not have done it if he'd known what it was going to be like, that he wouldn't have any control, that he'd be making stupid faces and stupid noises and putting his hands in the telepath's stupid hair...

Whatever.

Would Jin show up tonight? Yes. Of course he would. Probably soon. It would be surprising if he didn't. For the entire five months since Jin had first joined them in Paris, he'd been following Ken around, popping up to pester him, creeping into his room and flopping into his bed like he had every right to sleep there. As appalling as it was, Ken had gotten used to it.

What he _wasn't_ used to was facing Jin after an encounter like _that_.

Ken was ready for it now, he thought. He hadn't been at first. For the first few days he'd wanted to scream. Of all the stupid things he could do, why do that with Jin? Why at a time like this? When he knew Jin's boss was behind David and Jen waking up, _why_ had he done that?

"Fuck, Ken..."

The memories still gave him a strange reaction. Not horror, or embarrassment, but something unsatisfied, indefinable.

"Next time."

"Ugh," Ken muttered, and got rid of the cigarette.

Even before the stupid blowjob, things with Jin had entered a weird new territory. Ken wasn't going to admit it, but he was completely caught off guard when his pyrokinesis manifested. If Jin hadn't been there to help, he didn't know what would have happened. It wasn't like any of the others knew how to deal with something like that.

In fact he had gotten nervous once, at ARSI, when he started to feel hot and couldn't figure out what would happen if he lost control and started burning up again. Would they have to call Jin on the phone and summon him to ARSI? Would he make it on time?

Was it possible that he needed the telepath's help that badly?

Ken went downstairs again and headed out onto the beach.

Sure enough, no sooner had he taken off his shoes and stepped onto the sand than he heard the familiar voice behind him.

"Smoking my cigarettes?"

Ken turned slowly, making sure his face was blank by the time he faced Jin. "You left them here."

Jin smiled. "Yeah, I remember." It was bright enough on the beach in front of the house to see that he had dyed his hair pale blue. Ken couldn't help noting, too, that the telepath looked very, very tired.

"Your hair looks stupid," he said.

Jin looked surprised, then amused. "How would you _like_ me to wear it?"

Ken rolled his eyes and turned back to the beach, setting out across the vast stretch of sand toward the water.

Jin jogged to catch up. "Still giving me the cold shoulder, huh?"

"What do you want?"

"My smokes."

Ken took them out of his pocket and tossed them carelessly over his shoulder. He heard a light smack as the telepath caught them.

"Thanks," Jin said. "Just kidding, though. You can keep them."

Ken didn't answer. Why was it always so hard to tell if he wanted Jin to go away or not? As much as he'd been dreading seeing him again after what had happened, there was something kind of refreshing about his company. At least, in contrast to the somber week at ARSI.

Anyway, it didn't matter. Telling Jin to go away never worked. And all Ken wanted to do was sit down on the sand and listen to the waves. So when he'd crossed the next small dune, he sat down in the sand to listen to the waves. Whatever the telepath did was his business.

Jin dropped down beside him, of course. He was dressed in tattered jeans and a black T-shirt, and he had not taken his loafers off. Why was he wearing loafers, anyway? Not that it looked bad. Jin always looked like he was in a movie.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, and Ken started to feel intensely uncomfortable again.

If Jin brought it up, he would not know how to respond. He hadn't even been able to decide how he _felt_ about it. He kept thinking the only way around it was to never see Jin again. And since that was obviously impossible, he didn't know what to do.

The thing was, he could never predict what was going to happen when Jin was around. Would they fight? Smoke? Would his pyrokinesis explode and would Jin strip him naked and bury him in ice to cool him down? Or would they just fall asleep together, like they had so many times now, ever since the telepath started creeping into his room claiming he couldn't sleep alone?

What the hell was this? What was he doing?

Why wasn't Jin saying anything?

"I told them what I know," Ken said, going on the offensive. "About Jackson bringing Jen and David back. I told them Vanni made Sky do it so it would look like Sky's idea."

Jin sighed mildly. "You're still talking about that?"

Ken shot him a sideways glare, but all he saw when he looked at Jin was the way Jin had looked that night—the intensity in his bright blue eyes, the crease between his brows when he had his hand between Ken's legs.

Fuck.

"Wanna hear some actual news?" Jin asked. "Jackson's fucking Jen."

That was so unexpected Ken forgot what he was thinking for a moment and simply stared at the telepath.

Jin looked back at him, one brow cocked. "I just found out."

Why would Jin tell him that? Ken grimaced.

"Yeah, my feelings exactly."

"Why would you tell me that?"

"'Cause I'm pissed and I felt like it."

"Why?" Ken asked again, mystified. "And why do you look all fucked up?"

Jin raised his eyebrows. "I look fucked up?"

"You look tired."

"Oh. Yeah, Jackson had me read her mind, and it's a mess. Bruised my Talent."

Ken frowned again, but now he was too curious not to ask. "What does that mean?"

"I went to give her a read, same thing I do to everyone." Jin paused, looking thoughtfully at Ken for a moment before he continued. "Telepaths see visuals when we read minds. We navigate psychostructure like it's literal structure. Layers, tunnels, walls and rooms. You know?"

Ken silently held Jin's gaze, not wanting to admit he was interested but definitely wanting Jin to continue.

"Sometimes there's geography, too. Minds are huge, and there's crazy shit inside. So my Talent shows me, kind of like in metaphors. The better a telepath is, the more details they see and feel. Textures, sensations, even. The deeper you go, the weirder things get."

"So?"

"Being in her head was like swimming upstream in a flash flood. Beat the hell out of my Talent."

"What does that mean? You're tired?"

"I'm tired, I'm pissed off, I got a headache getting worse and worse, and every thought I hear is like a punch in the head."

Ken studied him closely, taking in his pale face, his tired eyes, the unusual tension in his face. The telepath did look like he was in pain. "How long does that last?"

"Normally it could last a week. But hopefully it'll be shorter now that you're back."

Ken scowled. "Start making sense."

Jin grinned at him. The shadows under his eyes just made him look more like a movie star. Especially when he cocked his chin and asked, in a warm, sly voice, "You miss me?"

Something twisted pleasantly in Ken's chest, which was startling and confusing. He kept his face blank, staring Jin down because he had no idea what else to do.

"It's good to see you," Jin said.

"Why?"

"I don't know why. I like seeing you is why."

"Okay."

Jin sighed heavily and hung an elbow on his knee, turning his upper body toward Ken. "All right. You wanna pretend it never happened?"

"Yes," Ken said instantly.

The telepath pursed his lips. His expression was hard to read. After a moment he shrugged and faced forward again. "All right."

Ken wasn't stupid. Pretending it never happened wasn't going to work. The more he tried not to think about it, the more intensely he remembered.

Whatever. He stood up and started back to the house. There was no reason to be surprised when Jin followed, but dammit, it was uncomfortable. His cheeks had been burning since the moment Jin showed up.

What was the big deal, anyway? Everyone did it. They did it all the time. In fact they did a lot more than he'd done with Jin. Even _he_ did a lot more than that with Lupe, the surfer girl he met up with once in awhile.

So why was he even getting worked up about this? Why couldn't he just take it in stride?

At the side of the house was a covered, slate-tiled patio with a shower for rinsing off after the beach. As soon as Ken focused on the bamboo stall, he decided what was going to happen _._

So they'd messed around. Fine. They could do it again. Prove it wasn't a big deal. Make it just a big nothing, and leave Jin with one less thing to smirk about. _Fine_.

Ken reached the shower, turned around to face Jin, and pulled off his shirt.

The telepath suddenly stopped on the threshold of the patio, looking at Ken's naked torso in surprise, like he hadn't seen it before.

Idiot. Ken glared at him, unbuttoned his pants, and shoved them to the floor. When Jin's reaction didn't get more interesting, he lost patience. With a quick, irritated sigh he stepped into the shower and let the door swing shut, then dropped the trunks and kicked them out onto the slate with the rest of his clothes.

The white noise of the shower was a relief for a tiny moment. But over the stall door he could clearly see Jin watching him. After rinsing his hair and wiping the water from his eyes, he looked straight back at Jin. "What do you want?" he demanded.

Jin was silent for a long moment, which made Ken steam. Just as he was about to tell the telepath to fuck off, Jin said, "I wanna get in."

Ken stared at him for another moment, but he didn't even consider replying. He'd made himself clear enough. If Jin wanted to make him spell it out, make it seem like Ken had asked him for it, well, fuck him. He turned his back and reached for the soap.

It didn't take long before the air changed at his back. Jin had joined him, but he wasn't touching.

Was this some kind of game?

The telepath's slim, muscled arm reached around him to pick up the soap that Ken set down. And Ken heard the cap open, heard the suck of air after the bottle had been squeezed, watched Jin's hand place the bottle back in the caddy.

When he turned around, Jin was just inches away. He was mostly dry, and Ken realized he'd been blocking most of the spray. The telepath smiled slightly. The shadows under his eyes were faint purple. His eyelids, too, were shadowy, and heavier than usual. "Can I have some water?"

Ken stepped aside, determined not to look as agitated as he felt. Although he couldn't forget the last time he'd seen Jin, on another, just as unsettling layer, being naked with him didn't feel nearly as unnatural as it should have.

Jin turned slowly in the spray to coat his lean frame with water. Ken looked him over as he did so, noting the well-formed muscles of his back and shoulders. But Jin's body wasn't what held his attention. It was just _Jin_ holding his attention. Just Jin, being such a stupid jerk and never making any sense and just being _around_ all the time, talking and telling him things, making jokes and kissing him and pissing him off.

The telepath stepped out of the spray and lathered the soap in his hands. He smeared it over his chest and abs and shoulders, working it over his body in quick, efficient strokes without a trace of self-consciousness. "Hey."

"What?" Ken muttered, already nearly finished rinsing off the soap. Fine. Whatever. He'd just leave.

"Come stay with me tonight."

Ken snorted unexpectedly. " _Why_ would I do that?"

"'Cause I need you and your stone cold brain. You're the quietest one around. It helps my head."

"So stay here," Ken said, and was appalled that it didn't sound colder, that it was more like an invitation.

"See, I'd love that?" Jin stepped up beside him again, silently asking for the spray. Ken could feel the heat of his body. "But in case you haven't noticed, it's like Arkham up in here."

"What's Arkham?"

"The loony bin from Batman."

Ken sighed irritably. "What's a loony bin?"

"A mental hospital. I mean I can't sleep with Aki's nightmares, and all David's freaky Irish ghosts whispering at me."

Ken looked away. That caught him off guard. He almost jumped when Jin put a hand on his shoulder, but the telepath was only nudging him aside to exit the shower.

What the hell? What the hell was this? Wasn't being naked together supposed to lead to doing it?

"Here's the thing," Jin said, walking around the stall to where a basket of towels was kept. "You probably see me as an invincible, unstoppable badass. But when I get banged in the head, I need a little help getting back to normal."

Jin's openness tonight was making no sense. Ken followed the telepath out of the stall and reached around him to snatch a towel. "Why don't you hang out with Jackson, then?"

"Because Jackson's fucking Jen, and I don't like it."

"Why are you _telling_ me that?" Ken burst out.

Jin grinned tiredly, stepping into his underwear and pulling it up his thighs. "I told you. I'm all banged up in the head. But the fact is, Jackson's busy, and you're the only other friend who can help me."

"Friend," Ken repeated flatly, buttoning up his pants.

"Boyfriend?"

"Fuck you," he snapped, officially annoyed. "Fix your own fucking head." He turned away.

"Wait—wait wait wait." Jin reached for his arm, then seemed to think better of it and darted around him, holding up both hands like he was stopping traffic. He hadn't finished pulling on his shirt, and it was hanging around his neck like a scarf. "Sorry. Come on. Hang out with me tonight. I'll owe you one. I'll teach you some tricks!"

Ken stopped trying to sidestep him, narrowing his eyes. "What kind of tricks?"

"Any kind. How to hide. How to play with your shields. Shit, I'll teach you whatever you want."

Dammit. Ken gritted his teeth. He hadn't seen that offer coming. He'd spent half of the past week brooding over the fact that he needed to get better with his Talent, and didn't know where to start.

Maybe, _maybe,_ if he asked Jin the right questions, in the right way, he could get a better idea of what to do on his own. Then he wouldn't have to worry about whether or not the telepath could come running to help if his head caught on fire, or whatever.

As much as he hated to give in, he wasn't exactly patient, either. He wanted to get stronger. He wanted to get started. Might as well pick Jin's brain tonight, while the telepath was at a disadvantage.

Finally he muttered, "Fine."

Jin's tired face lit up with a grin and he finished pulling on his shirt. "Let's get outta here."

#  3. Mark Gets Some Lip

Mark tried to resist. He really, actually did.

"Fuck," Sky gasped, his cheek pressed against the desk, his arms held so tightly behind his back he could do little more than accept the relentless rhythm of Mark's dick in his perfect ass. It was almost unreal, his ass—creamy and taut and tight as a fucking trap.

Mark's meeting with Kel and Lip had started five minutes ago. But the sound of his palm cracking down on Sky's smooth skin made it hard to feel bad about it, and so did the obscene moan Sky gave in response.

Really. Mark, resist Sky? He wrapped a handful of Sky's silky blond hair around his fist and pulled him upright, pounding him so hard the smack of their bodies meeting echoed in the little room.

"Fuck," Sky sobbed. "Oh, _fuck_ me, Mark."

There was something about Sky talking filthy in that incongruously polished English accent that always stirred him. Some expensive tutor had taught Sky to speak that way—some tutor hired by the yakuza gangster who had "adopted" him as a child and raised him as a glorified sex slave.

There was so much _wrong_ beneath Sky's blinding appeal...

Jesus, he was thinking the wrong way again. Looking for darkness where he was supposed to stick to light. Looking for reasons to loathe himself, reasons not to feel good. It wasn't right to get like that with Sky.

Shaking his head quickly, Mark shoved the blond over the desk again, pulled out of his ass, and slapped his dick against his twitching hole, just because Sky liked that sort of thing.

"No, _fuck_ me!" Sky moaned roughly, bracing his elbows on the desk and arching his back to shamelessly present his ass. "Split me open, Mark."

Mark tightly squeezed his own rigid cock, rubbing the tip in an taunting circles against that quivering ring of muscle. "That's what you want?"

"Yes," Sky hissed, shaking from head to toe. " _Yes_..."

Someone pounded on the door.

Sky immediately quieted, his head dropping over the desk. His tattooed back glowed with sweat, the fine muscles shifting as he panted.

Mark scowled. Soon they'd have actual electronic security, actual comm systems, and they wouldn't be knocking on doors like it was the fucking fifties. Soon. Thanks to Jackson's tainted money. "What?" he called sharply.

"Are you almost done?" Lip shouted.

Sky rose up, tense. The kid was inexplicably nervous of Lip. Mark caught him around the waist and pulled him close, kissing the side of his neck and running a hand down the front of his body to give his dick a slow, soothing stroke. Sky laid his head back against Mark's shoulder, closing his eyes and biting his lip.

"Unbelievable," Lip muttered, and then pounded on the door again. "You know," he yelled, "believe it or not, Mark, we have shit to talk about and I have shit to do, so if you could hit pause on your dick for maybe twenty fuckin' minutes I'd really fuckin' appreciate it!"

Lip didn't talk like that very often. It wasn't easy to get the good-natured Australian angry. Not that it was the first time Mark had managed to do it. Nor was it the first time he hadn't been in the mood to apologize.

"Okay," he called nonchalantly, sliding his hand around Sky's face to cover his mouth before he reached down and guided himself back into the younger man's ass. Sky shuddered, exhaling through his nose.

"Fuckin' asshole," Lip muttered, and his footsteps faded down the hall.

_Whatever_. Mark rocked his hips in slow, deep thrusts. Lip might have disturbed the mood, but Mark was an expert at fucking his problems away. "Still with me?" he murmured into Sky's ear, sliding a gentle hand around his throat.

"Let me do it," Sky breathed. "Let me use my Talent."

"Go ahead," Mark murmured into his neck. A moment later he felt Sky's empathy humming through him, sending slow shockwaves of pleasure through his system. "Sky," he groaned, melting into Sky's back. " _Fuck_."

Sky shivered, and Mark knew his empathy was soaking up the same feelings he had just sent across—a feedback loop of pleasure. He turned his head and sealed his mouth against Mark's jaw with a breathy moan, working his hips in perfect time.

That was better. No thinking. Just pleasure.

Mark took hold of Sky's chin and kissed him hungrily, groaning into his mouth as that criminally gorgeous body started to tighten and convulse. "Yeah," he whispered. "Come for me, Sky."

Sky broke off the kiss and threw his head back over Mark's shoulder, gasping harshly before he clamped his lips between his teeth in an effort to stifle his moans.

Mark swiftly sealed a hand over Sky's mouth to help him stay quiet, bending him over the desk again. Sky's orgasm came rushing through Mark's senses, and not a moment later Mark was coming, too, muffling his groans in Sky's neck as he lost himself.

The afterglow was golden with Sky, all the warm, rosy tones of a sunset.

But as soon as that intoxicating influence wore off, Lip's disapproving voice echoed again in Mark's head.

Fuck.

Mark pulled away from Sky and ran a hand through the blond's disheveled hair, giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze before heading for the shower. He ran the water cold and stepped into the spray with a bitter sigh.

The last thing he wanted was a talking-to from Lip. But he wasn't going to be able to avoid it any longer.

When he was finished scrubbing himself from head to toe, he turned the water hot and left it running for Sky. But as the blond moved to take his place, Mark caught him around the waist and pulled him close for a long, deep kiss.

Sky let out a soft breath when their lips parted, looking up at Mark with those stormy blue-gray eyes. Mark held onto him, focusing on his exquisite face. God, what a beauty. These days Mark couldn't even look at those pillow pink lips without wanting to fuck him senseless.

It wasn't right to let things get like this. Fucking as friends was one thing. Using the kid to run away from his problems was another. It wasn't right, but before he knew it he was pressing Sky back against the wall next to the shower, claiming that mouth in another slow, lewd kiss.

"Lip's cross," Sky mumbled into his mouth.

Mark made a noncommittal sound, gently nipping along the edge of Sky's jaw, working his way down to that long, lovely neck.

"I'm making it worse."

Mark pulled back, frowning at him. "What do you mean?"

"Uh, well," Sky said slowly. "I woke up Jen and David. And now I'm back and you're always in here fucking me instead of doing what you're supposed to be doing. And he's never liked me anyway."

Mark sighed. They'd been through this. "First of all, it's not like you _killed_ anybody, so stop feeling bad. Second, nobody blames you. We all know it was Jackson's fault." Jackson. That fucking snake. "Third—"

"Jackson," Sky repeated, obviously recognizing some emotional flare from Mark at the name. "You're mad at..." His blue-gray eyes widened with sudden understanding. "You're _jealous_. Because Jen's with Jackson."

Mark bit the inside of his cheek and looked away, trying not to show his irritation. Sky was trying to get better with his Talent, but he hadn't quite gotten the hang of keeping his readings to himself.

"But what's Lip got to do with it?"

"Nothing. Forget it. And you're wrong. Lip likes you fine."

Sky snorted, looking at Mark like he'd just said the Easter Bunny was real.

"Lip likes you _fine,_ " Mark said firmly. "In fact I guarantee he likes you better than me right now."

"I didn't mean to make you late."

"You didn't know I had a meeting. And I didn't wanna go. Not your fault."

"Well." Sky put his hands on Mark's chest and pushed him gently, managing a little smile. "Go tell him that."

Mark pushed a lock of hair from Sky's temple and kissed his cheek, then turned to the task of getting dressed and dragging himself out of the room.

Lip was already in another meeting with ARSI's financial officers, program directors and heads of security. The room was dark, and one of the moneymen was going through a series of charts, graphs and numbers. Mark took a seat at the end of the table, catching Lip's gaze for a moment. Lip nodded a neutral greeting.

The ARSI staff were working out the new budget, allocating the sudden endowment from Jackson with swift efficiency. There was no shortage of things they needed, from increased security and expanded facilities to recruiting efforts and more intensive training. The abrupt move from Europe had been an enormous blow to their operations. Jackson's money was an almost instant fix.

And what did Jackson get out of it?

Jen. He got Jen.

Mark was supposed to be helping with this, divvying up the new funds and restructuring ARSI. But every time he thought about playing with Jackson's money he got so mad he wanted to destroy something. It was the kind of anger he felt in the tendons of his hands.

"Let's take a break," Lip said. "Go get some lunch. Meet back here in thirty." His eyes rested on Mark as the room began to clear.

When the last man had left, Mark braced himself for a lecture.

"We have a half hour to work this out," Lip said.

"Fine."

"What did you want us to do, Mark?"

It was impossible to win an argument with Lip. He saw things too clearly, and his questions were too straight. Lip's judgment was never clouded by emotion. Lip never got caught up in bad habits. Lip didn't understand that not everyone could sort their feelings into keeps and throwaways. Not everyone was a pragmatist. Not everyone was fucking perfect all the time. Not everyone wanted to be.

Mark wasn't being fair, and he knew it. If only knowing made any difference.

"What do you expect from me?" he shrugged. "We just sold Jen for ten billion dollars."

Lip glared at him for a dark moment before he spoke. "All right, mate. You wanna stay in asshole mode, go for it. I'll stick to the facts over here."

Mark shook his head, looking away. Lip and his fucking facts. Lip always cut too quickly to the core of things. Why couldn't he just let people feel shit? Why _couldn't_ Mark be an asshole for a while, if he wanted to? Why did everyone have to be clean and clear and reasonable all the time?

"We need money," Lip said, "but we don't have time to make it ourselves. We need to know Jen's Talent won't drive her mad again, but we don't know shit about psychics. We need to stay ahead of KGA, but we don't have a fraction of the intelligence we need." The Australian slowed down his voice. " _Jackson_ has money to spend. _Jackson_ knows how to handle problem psychics. _Jackson_ just defected from KGA with a fuckton of intelligence. Okay?"

"I get it," Mark muttered, full of aimless fury. "I agreed to it, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did. And now you're bein' an asshole. And what for? You're pissed 'cause you want to see her? How? Why?" When he got no response he continued, "So you can start up again?"

"It's not that simple."

"You think I feel good about this? I don't like it, either. I don't trust him, either. I don't like bein' backed into this corner. You're not the only one who's worried about it, Mark. Stop actin' like Kel and I don't know the same things you know."

"Start acting like you do," Mark shot back, and knew he was pushing it when Lip closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

After a long silence, Lip said, "I'm sending Sky away. He can stay with Dylan."

"What?" Mark blinked, caught completely off guard. " _Why_?"

"You've been a good influence on him, but now you're all fucked up again. I don't want him soakin' it up."

"All fucked up?" Mark scoffed. "I'm not perfect. I'm not you."

"Fuck you, Mark," Lip snapped. "I'm not askin' for perfect. I'm askin' you to take a few steps back and think back on what's happened in the last few months. She murdered Luke. She left Aki hangin' by a thread. And she still wants to get her hands on Ken. She said so herself."

"I _know_ that," Mark said sharply.

"Then get your head out of your ass," Lip burst out, slamming his hands on the table. "It doesn't matter if she's back to her old self or not. It doesn't matter how much we love her or how bad we miss her. What's done is done. She hurt Aki, and she murdered Luke _._ "

Mark looked away, despair flooding his system, and tried not to picture Luke's lovely face, those soft, gentle eyes, that shy smile.

_"Luke_ , Mark!"

Damn Lip. Damn Lip, forcing him to think about things that hurt the wrong way.

"That's the shit she's capable of when her Talent pushes her over the edge. That's what happens if she doesn't have the help she needs. And you're sittin' here pissed 'cause _you_ aren't the one who gets to give it to her?"

"It's not like that," Mark protested, shame curdling in his chest. "It's not that simple."

"Who said it was?" Lip demanded, his anger turning to that familiar desperation to make himself understood. "Look, I'm _sorry_ you're hurtin'. But you can't do this right now. We're not teenagers anymore. You can't just black out the windows and fuck the pain away, Mark. We've got an army of psycho Talents closin' in on us, and we can't let those kids down again. We need your fuckin' _help_."

"I can't just _forget_ ," Mark said suddenly, feeling as frustrated as Lip looked. "It's my fault this happened to her in the first place. I promised to be there for her no matter what. I shouldn't have let her go. I shouldn't have been with Dylan."

"Fuck that. Not all promises are forever, Mark. You did everything you could. If it's not her fault she lost her mind, it sure as hell isn't yours. And fuck me if you shouldn't be with Dylan. Dylan's the best fuckin' thing that ever happened to you. Jesus, get your head straight!"

Tiredness came over Mark suddenly, and he buried his head in his hands.

God, he hated talking to Lip like this. Hated having to come back to caring, having to look at everything that was horrible, having to think about people he'd failed, people he'd probably fail again. Hated having to drag himself back into battle...

"You feel what you feel, Mark," Lip said after a long silence. "I don't judge you for it. I love you, mate. I know this is hard on you. I just need you to start thinkin' about more than just her."

"I am," Mark said quietly, although, to his dismay, he knew he really hadn't been. "I'm sorry. I'm trying. I just..."

He just hadn't been ready.

Seeing her like that, so beautiful, so clear-eyed and so fucking sad—the memory made his chest so tight he could barely breathe. How many times had he wished for a chance to look into her eyes and tell her he was sorry for giving up?

But she was counting on Jackson, now. And Lip was right. In a way, it didn't matter what Jackson wanted her for, how they felt about him, or how underhandedly he had conspired to bring her back. The fact was she _was_ back, and if Jackson was the only one who could teach her to manage her Talent, then she was exactly where she needed to be.

"We'll get through this," Lip said. "But only together."

"Okay. You're right. I'm with you."

"I don't like tellin' you what to do, mate," Lip said, suddenly sounding terribly weary. He propped an elbow on the table and rubbed his forehead. "I'm not your boss, for Christ's sake. I'm your fuckin' friend."

"I know," Mark mumbled, feeling shittier by the second. Poor Lip. It wasn't fair to leave him at the wheel all the time. Kel, too. "Fuck knows what'll happen if you ever lose your shit, Lip."

Lip dropped his hand from his brow, cracking a smile at last. "I'm just waitin' my turn."

Mark snorted. "Right. Maybe I'll get a chance to call _you_ an asshole someday."

"Stranger things have happened." Lip sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Listen, I still want Sky outta here. I think stayin' with Dylan will be good for 'im. They kinda got along, before. And no offense, Mark, but..."

"No. You're right." Mark felt another swell of guilt, remembering how dark he'd been with Sky lately. Lip was only saying what he'd been thinking. "Just hope he understands."

"He's come a long way, and he helped David a lot. This way he'll be closer if he's needed for more of that." Lip crossed his arms, frowning thoughtfully at the table. "You think he can stay cool around Ken?"

"I hope so," Mark said slowly. "Did all right this past week."

"Dylan can help keep him in line. He needs somethin' to do, as well."

The door to the conference room opened and Jack Green looked in, glancing between them questioningly. Lip waved him in. As the rest of the ARSI experts started to trickle back in, Mark settled in and prepared to get back to work.

#  4. Testing the Water

Jin was a good driver. Almost as good as Kel. The curves of the highway had a satisfying swoop in his car, and he always hit the gas exactly when Ken thought he should.

"You should let Aki know where you're going, huh?"

Ken ignored him and turned on the radio.

"Don't change the station."

Ken waited a beat, and then changed it.

"Fine. You hungry?"

"Yes."

"Let's get room service."

"Why?"

"So we can eat."

Ken frowned. He thought room service meant cleaning. Maybe it meant they filled the room with food. He didn't want to get his hopes up.

"How's your Talent going? You have any problems out there?"

"No." Except that one fever. But he had handled it.

"Been practicing?"

Ken glanced at him. Normally he tried not to encourage Jin. But ever since that night in the desert motel when his Talent had exploded, he couldn't stop thinking about how little he knew about what was going on in his head. Jin knew a lot. It probably wouldn't hurt to talk to him about it, a little. Ken granted him a nod.

Jin flashed him a smile. "Good."

Slumping down in the seat a little, Ken turned his eyes to the passing scenery, even though they were going north and all he could see was the steep face of the land rising up along Highway 101. "Where are we going?"

"I know a place you'll like."

"How do you know I'll like it?" he grumbled. His feelings kept swinging from deeply uncomfortable to the complete opposite. That's how it always was with Jin, maybe. The telepath was either deeply amusing or deeply annoying. It was either easy to be around him or it was insufferable. Well, maybe it hadn't been insufferable in a while.

"It's not that hard to tell. I don't have to read your mind to notice a thing or two."

"Whatever."

Why hadn't Jin started messing around with him in the shower? Did he think Ken would be mad? Or was he just not interested? Ken scowled at the thought. That would be ridiculous. Wouldn't it?

Ken crossed his arms, resisting the urge to glance at Jin. What did it matter, anyway? It wasn't like he _cared_.

"How'd it go with Sky?"

"Aren't you supposed to know everything?"

"No."

"Well, I'm not telling you." He sounded like a child. Scowling, he changed the station again.

"Just being polite," Jin said.

To make matters worse, Jin was right. Ken did like the hotel. It was a kind of chateau perched on the edge of a rocky cove, and inside it was all wood and stone and glass. The waves were audible even in the lobby. Jin walked straight by the front desk toward the lounge area behind it, a dim space where clusters of parlor chairs and sofas were artfully scattered in front of the huge windows facing the sea. Outside the waves were crashing against the black rocks in explosions of white foam and gunpowder gray.

There were only a couple of people in the lounge, chatting quietly over their candles and drinks. One man was talking on a cell phone on the best sofa facing the window, but when Jin approached he stood up and left as though he'd just remembered something. One by one, the other tables cleared out, too.

"What's your poison?" Jin asked, settling down in the sofa and watching Ken circle it.

Ken shrugged and walked to the windows, back to feeling deeply uncomfortable. The atmosphere of the place was inescapably good. He was pretty sure he could sink down into any of the chairs and stare at the waves below for an hour. But what to do with the fact that it was Jin who brought him here?

"Wine, right?" Jin asked.

"Whatever." A few moments later Ken turned around to find a server setting a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table. Another server rushed to join him, laying down a platter of cheese, fruit, smoked meats and bread as the first filled the wine glasses.

_"Spacibo_ , gentlemen," Jin said, watching them leave, and turned his eyes to Ken.

Fuck it. That looked good. Ken joined him on the sofa and reached for the wine.

"Cheers," Jin said, lifting his glass and taking a long whiff of the wine before tipping it back.

Ken always thought wine was just okay, and this was the same for a second. But then it was very good. He sneaked a suspicious glance at Jin before taking another long drink.

"So let's talk about this brain of yours."

"Why?"

"Uh, 'cause that's how I got you to come here with me, telling you I'd teach you some tricks?"

"Oh." Right.

"Or we could just enjoy this wine. All the same to me."

"Did you make those people leave? Shouldn't you not be using your Talent?"

Jin smiled slyly. "Yeah, well, it'll balance out when I get up in that room with you and soak up the silence."

Ken shot him a dark look, picking up something in his tone that made him feel slightly flustered.

Had he really agreed to come out here and spend the night?

What was he thinking?

"But that's the thing, you know," Jin said. "You can't walk around completely silent like that."

"Why not?"

"Because that's how Vanni found you. And that's how I found you. And that's how someone else is gonna find you."

Ken looked at him again, reluctantly settling back and paying attention. "So?"

"So you have to do what the rest of those guys do."

"With the thoughts on the outside?"

"Oh, so they have told you."

Ken nodded. Mark and Lip had tried to explain it, how they made themselves look normal by keeping most of their thoughts outside of their shields and only withholding what mattered. Ken just hadn't wanted to do it. He liked knowing his head was silent. He liked keeping all his thoughts to himself.

"Well, they know what they're talking about. They're really good at it."

"Does it really matter that much?"

"Yeah, if you don't wanna get caught." Jin settled back in the curved corner of the sofa, his long limbs spread out comfortably. "It's not that hard. You'll get the hang of it in a week. Or a minute, knowing you." Jin shrugged and reached for a bundle of grapes, then tilted his head back and sucked one into his mouth.

"So how would I do it?"

"The first thing a telepath hears is the surface." Jin popped another grape into his mouth and turned his head, scanning the mostly empty room behind the sofa. He nodded toward a dark-haired woman tending the hotel bar. "She's tired. Almost two hours 'til her shift ends. Trying to decide if she should just go home after or hit up her fuck buddy. Not sure she washed those glasses well enough. Blah, blah, blah. All the right-nows."

Ken studied the bartender, glad he could keep his right-nows to himself.

"Under the surface is what we call the cache. That's all the basic information that gets pulled to the surface all the time. It's easy to get into. Usually there are little bits of it waving around on the surface. Her name's Ellen Danner, but she's calling herself Lily. Twenty-two years old. Lives in Lincoln Heights. Wants to be an actress. Still misses her high school boyfriend." Discomfort flickered across Jin's brow—from using his bruised Talent, it seemed. He rubbed his eyes, stretched his neck and settled back against the arm of the sofa again. "All her goals, worries, people she knows, all in the cache. Get it?"

"It's not complicated."

Jin smiled. He had a quick smile, sharp and neat. "So, from the cache I can go wherever I want. Run around in her memories, all her strengths and weaknesses, all her secrets. 'Cause she doesn't have any shields."

"So?" Ken shrugged. Jin offered the grapes. Ken took them.

"So _,_ " Jin said, "I hear her head like a song. Everyone in this place I hear it like a song. But if I was a KGA sweeper, and I was sweeping this room, I'd hear nothing from you. Just a big dip in the noise. A little pocket of silence. That's how I found you. That's how Vanni found you."

"So?"

_"So,_ " Jin said, drawing it out, "You're only halfway hidden. Normally Talent recognizes Talent. That's how KGA sweeps us up. They don't have to read our minds, they just feel for Talent. So Lip and those guys are doing two things to stay hidden. First, they're muffling their Talents. You're doing that, too. Second, they're pretending to have normal thoughts. You're not doing that. You're doing the opposite of that."

Ken stared at him, waiting for elaboration.

"Instead of locking down all their thoughts, they edit. Take Mark. Mark leaves almost everything in his cache. All the fucked up details of his life, piles of thoughts about the people he knows, mountains of memories of Jen and Lip and Dylan and all those other saps. But when I go through it, you know what I don't find?"

Ken shrugged.

"Any reference to Talent." Jin made a slicing motion through the air. "Nothing about Talent at all. It's like all the facts are the same, except nobody involved was a Talent. So if I casually scanned Mark's head, and I didn't go any deeper than the cache, I'd just think he's a fucked up drama queen who knows a lot of fucked up people. Then I'd just move on. It's simple, and it's effective."

Ken thought about this as he reached for his glass. He took a long swallow, finishing it off. "So how did he do it?"

"How _does_ he do it," Jin corrected, and picked up the bottle to fill Ken's glass and his own. "He does it every day. He's trained himself, or his mind, really, to tag critical information and pull it in deeper, into the lower levels of his psychostructure. That doesn't mean a psychic couldn't find it. But they'd have to see past the camouflage first."

Ken bit into a piece of bread, considering this.

"That's what you need to do. Open up on the outside. Strategically. Because you stick out now. When I got to Paris, I combed the city for you guys. I missed Mark and Lip. But I didn't miss you. You're a pocket of complete silence. And it stands out to KGA psychics because we only see that kind of quiet with real fuckin' powerful people."

That pleased Ken considerably, and he couldn't help smirking. "Does that mean I'm stronger than you?"

"What do you think?"

Ken shrugged peacefully. In truth, he had no idea, and he'd rather find out than guess.

"Power's not everything." The telepath took a drink and licked his lips. "Psychostructure is important. Control is important. Look at Aki. Jen's stronger than him, but he outsmarted her because he knew his own head so well."

It surprised Ken a little to hear Jin speak well of Aki, although he guessed it wasn't that strange. "I wondered," Ken said slowly, "how he got away. I don't think there was anything left of Luke. But there was still enough left of Aki for him to come back."

Jin nodded. He looked different. Intelligent. Not that he ever seemed stupid, but at the moment he reminded Ken of Lip—thoughtful, knowledgeable. It was weird.

"She had more time with Luke," Jin said. "And from what I've heard, he wasn't half as disciplined as Aki. Plus it's not like she had a lot of practice wrecking heads. There are Talents at KGA who can ruin you in a minute, but they know what they're doing. But Jen doesn't really know shit about being a psychic. She napalmed Aki's head, but, I don't know. I guess he found somewhere to hide."

"Could you ruin someone in a minute?"

Jin laughed. "I could do a lot in a minute."

"Like what?"

The telepath shrugged. "Could make you believe whatever I want. Could make you kill yourself. Make you see things. Give you delusions, leave you a babbling mess for the rest of your life. What she did to Luke, and Aki, nah. I couldn't do that. Not exactly like that."

"Why not?"

"I'm not an empath. There's things they can do that I can't. Feelings, emotions, instincts, that's a different kind of shit to fuck with. Like the Trigger Method. Strauss rips his way into your head, tears in deep and makes your Talent panic so it explodes. That's empath shit."

"So they're stronger than you?" Ken taunted.

"No, they're not _stronger._ " Jin imitated Ken's low voice as he repeated the word, smirking. "They just do different things. But it's not just about strength. It's about the architecture of your head. That's how someone like Aki can stand up to someone like Jen. 'Cause he does all his monk meditation shit, so he knew his own mind. He had the map and all the keys. She didn't. And it's why Jen's off her rocker. Raw power and shitty architecture."

Ken drank his wine, realizing he could think of a thousand more questions to ask. It was just his luck that _Jin_ was the only one he knew who could talk about this.

"You know the thing with your architecture?" Jin asked thoughtfully, frowning into his glass. "Your psychostructure, it's all natural."

"What does that mean?"

Jin looked at him quickly, his thoughtful frown fading to surprise. "You guys don't know _anything_."

"Whatever." Ken frowned. "At least I wasn't raised at KGA."

The telepath set down his wine glass and stared at Ken in silence. After a moment, a smile spread across his face. "You think _you_ had a better home life than _me_?"

"I said whatever," Ken said. "I'm just glad I wasn't raised by KGA."

"But were you not raised in a fuckin' torture chamber until, like, yesterday?"

Ken couldn't help smiling. "So?" He shrugged and started piling salmon and cheese on top of a chunk of bread.

"That's embarrassing. If you think I'm a sadder case than you."

"I'm not a sad case," Ken replied instantly, too caught off guard to make a better comeback.

"No! No way. But come on, life fucked you over pretty bad, didn't it?" Jin started to laugh. "You don't think you had it a little worse than me?"

"It doesn't matter who had it worse," Ken argued. "I don't want to be anyone else. I don't want to think about everything the KGA way and be obsessed with Jackson Gadamer and killing people all the time. I don't care if you had it better. Just like Sky, he had it better than me. But I'm glad I'm not him. I'm glad I wasn't the one with that life."

Jin lifted his chin slowly, like he was getting it. "You think all that shit's what made you who you are."

Ken grimaced, perplexed. "What else would make me who I am?"

"What about the things you're born with?"

"Talent?"

"Personality."

"You think we're born with personalities?" Ken said, hearing his own uncertainty. Had he missed something? Was this another weird thing about the world that he hadn't learned yet, like the moon and the tides, or that a lot of people had dogs in their houses?

"I don't know." Jin's deep blue eyes were studying him with interest. "I guess I believe that, yeah."

"Is it science?"

"Well, I don't know. But I know we're born with some things."

"But if my life had been different then I'd be different now."

"Obviously. But if you were born in my place, you still wouldn't be exactly like me. And you could have been born a princess, but you'd never be like Sky."

"How do you know?"

"I just know." Jin leaned back and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. After he lit one up, he asked, "Who _would_ you wanna be, then?"

"No one."

"No one in the world?"

Ken shrugged apathetically. "Maybe someone like Miles Davis. But I could just learn the trumpet."

The telepath laughed again, looking at Ken with that weird sort of respect in his eyes. Seemingly at a loss, he shook his head and smoked his cigarette.

Ken had the strange realization that he had never really talked to someone like this, had a long conversation with different opinions and exchanges of ideas. He'd heard other people do it, but this was his first time.

Why did everything feel so normal with Jin? Why did he have to be so entertaining? Why couldn't someone _else_ know about Talent? Why did it feel so much better to kiss him than Lupe?

"Ken," Jin said suddenly. "You gotta be ready for it if they find you."

"How?"

Jin didn't look at him, taking a long drag as he looked distractedly at the ocean. "I'll show you stuff."

Ken thought about that for a minute, and then suddenly it felt like a hole had just been poked in the evening. The ease he'd felt just a few moments ago began to deflate. "Because Jackson told you to?"

"Yeah. And it weirded me out. So I'm telling you."

Again, Jin's honesty—or apparent honesty—caught him off guard. "Why does he care?"

"If you were him, would you want KGA getting their hands on someone like you?" Jin asked plainly. "Some kid with a monster Talent who knows a lot more about us than he should?"

"No," Ken admitted.

"I don't want them getting you either. So the first thing is to get you camouflaged. And the next thing is to pump you up."

"Pump me up?"

"Get you stronger. Teach you how to fight with your head."

Ken sighed heavily, sprawling back against the arm of the sofa and propping his chin on his hand to glower at the ocean.

"That's what you want, too, right?"

Yeah, it was what he wanted. It was uncomfortable to realize that Jin knew this. It was unsettling to realize they had gotten this familiar with each other, when it seemed like only yesterday Ken had no intention of knowing Jin at all.

But if Jin could help him get stronger, how could he refuse that?

He needed some time to think about this.

He needed to change the subject.

Sensing Jin was about to speak again, Ken abruptly asked, "Why didn't you do anything in the shower?"

"Transparent," Jin said, grinning. "But okay. If that's what you're going with, I'll bite."

"What are you talking about?" Ken muttered, and tipped back his glass.

"I didn't do anything in the shower," Jin replied, resting with a hand behind his head and settling further into the couch to look at Ken, "because I wanted to see if you would."

So it had been a game. Idiot. Ken rolled his eyes. "I _didn't_ ," he said pointedly.

"I had a feeling you wouldn't."

"Why?"

"You're too shy."

"I'm not fucking shy."

"Are you trying to make this easier for me?" Jin could barely keep the smirk off of his face. "Maybe I should just double-dare you."

"Double-dare?"

"It's actually illegal to have sex with you when you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk," Ken retorted, realizing too late that it sounded like he was insisting on sex. Goddammit. How had Jin suddenly taken control of the conversation?

"Didn't you say you wanted to act like it never happened?"

"Whatever," Ken muttered. "Why would it even matter whether it happened or not?"

"Hey, you're the one who thinks you're a product of your experiences. Must matter for something, doesn't it?"

Dammit. He was losing too many rounds. "Like what?"

The telepath didn't answer, but it looked like he had a remark on his tongue, and Ken was pretty sure it wasn't the thing he ended up saying, which was, "The room's ready."

"Just because I'm staying doesn't mean I want to do it."

"Of course not. Why would I make that giant leap in logic?"

"Because you're an idiot," Ken replied, ignoring the sarcasm.

Jin exhaled one last plume of smoke, smiling at him, and tossed the cigarette into his wine glass. He swung his legs to the floor. "Come on."

#  5. Aki Comes Clean

Aki was going to try once. Once, and that was it.

He was only doing it because he couldn't accept the way it had gone the last time he'd seen Dylan. That morning David had just come back from the dead, and it was a fairly traumatic event. The sight of Luke's lifeless body was still fresh in his mind, and David was saying he wanted to get back to being dead, and by the time Dylan showed up, Aki wasn't in the best frame of mind. It bothered him to think of how emotional he'd gotten. He hated losing his temper.

Well, and that wasn't the only reason he was trying again. He was trying because Luke wouldn't have been able to stand this feud, and now that David was back, it was impossible not to think about that.

Normally he would have left the O'Reilly brothers to their own business. Normally he wouldn't have thought it was his place to intervene. But now that David was alive again, and Dylan was back, it felt increasingly intolerable to have this bitterness hanging in the air. If Luke were alive, he'd want to make peace with Dylan, and he'd certainly want to help Dylan make peace with David and Aki. Since Luke wasn't alive, Aki felt like it was his responsibility to at least make an effort on his behalf.

He didn't have to knock. Dylan opened the door as soon as he stepped up.

"Hey," Dylan said with a mixture of shock and pleasure.

Aki didn't share the other man's apparent enthusiasm. But he was here, wasn't he? "Let's talk."

Dylan stepped aside, beckoning him in.

"If I can help you work it out with David," Aki said even as he walked to the kitchen, "I will."

"That's—thanks," Dylan said, still surprised. "You want some—"

"Let's just talk," Aki said evenly, determined to be polite through this. He sat down at the table. "And no bullshit."

Dylan slowly sat down across the table from him and leaned back in his chair. The Irishman always been thin, but since Luke's death his face had taken on a noticeably gaunt look, and his pale skin seemed even paler in contrast to his wavy dark hair. Luke was always like that, too, wasting away when he was unraveling.

While Aki didn't rejoice in the idea of Dylan unraveling, it was satisfying in some small, strange way to see proof that he was suffering over this, too.

Aki got right to the point. "You blame me for David killing himself."

As he'd expected, Dylan winced. "Is that a question?"

"No, it's not. It's the truth, and I want you to say it to my face."

The unhappy crease between Dylan's brows deepened and he shook his head, looking away.

"Admit it." He kept his tone flat, but stared hard at Dylan until the green eyes came back to his.

"I blamed you." Dylan said at last.

Aki clenched his jaw. "Blame."

"I can't use that word anymore."

"Really? I bet you could if I wasn't here."

Dylan's gaze filled with despair and dropped to the table. Dylan never hid anything from his face. Never. At length, he finally said, "Yeah. I blame you."

"Thank you," Aki said quietly.

The oldest O'Reilly brother leaned forward to put his elbows on the table and bury his face in his hands for a moment. Then he clasped them in front of him and looked at Aki with raw eyes. "I'm sorry," he said with unmistakable honesty. "And I love you, Aki. I do. I just think you were wrong."

"You think I could have stopped it."

"I think you coulda tried."

For the first time, Aki looked away. If he wasn't going to show his anger, he certainly wasn't about to cry. But it was hard to talk about this. He swallowed hard.

_"Did_ you?"

Aki finally met his eyes again, but again, he refused to speak until he could trust himself to stay calm.

"You never told me how it happened."

"You never listened," Aki said sharply, and bit his tongue.

"You're right," Dylan said quickly. "You're right. I came at it the wrong way. I was just fuckin' shocked, lad."

"So was I."

"Yeah, 'course you were," Dylan murmured, and looked down in shame.

After another long moment of silence, Aki spoke. "I was in the bedroom and I heard them arguing. It wasn't any of my business, so I put his headphones on and I turned on some music."

Aki paused and looked down at the table. It had been the Beatles on Luke's player. _Abbey Road_. Why did he have to remember everything so clearly?

"I took them off about twenty minutes later," he continued, "and I could hear Luke crying. I still couldn't hear David. But Luke was..." Aki swallowed and shook his head. "Luke was saying 'No.' And I got worried, so I went downstairs.

"They were sitting on the couch and David had his arm around Luke. David looked calm. Really calm. I thought...I didn't know, I couldn't even guess what it was about. Sometimes Luke got upset about things. They talked about things and Luke didn't always tell me. I asked if they were okay and David kind of smiled and nodded. I asked what was wrong. Luke didn't say anything."

Dylan waited silently as Aki crossed his arms and stared in silence at the table.

"David just said everything was fine. Said it was between them and it was okay. I didn't...He was so calm. But then I just...got this feeling. I felt something wasn't right. And Luke was still crying. I said I knew it wasn't my business, but I needed to know everything was okay. And David just looked at me and said, 'We've already settled it. Everything's fine.' It seemed like Luke was the one who was upset, and I trusted David with that. I always trusted him with Luke, more than I trusted myself. You know that. So even though I knew, or I felt—I had a feeling something was wrong, David was...he smiled at me like..."

The strangeness of that day brought a chill to his skin.

"Jesus," Dylan said softly.

"But I stayed close. I went to the kitchen and when I came back they were whispering and Luke wasn't crying anymore. And I asked again if everything was okay. And Luke said yeah, it was fine. Not to worry. And they got up and went to David's room and shut the door. So I sat on the couch and tried to figure out why I felt so weird. I thought about calling you, but I didn't know why, or what I'd say, or if I'd be betraying their confidence. I didn't know how serious it was. And it was just a few minutes later. Just a few minutes later I heard Luke crying like I'd never heard before. It made me jump up, and I went into the bedroom, and I thought David was just lying there holding his hand. It took me a minute to realize..."

Aki couldn't talk anymore. He buried his eyes in his hand.

"Why did he do it?" Dylan demanded. "Why so suddenly?"

"It wasn't sudden," Aki said quietly. "He told Luke all the time. All the time, Dylan. They agreed to it when they were just kids. They said Luke was going to live, David was going to die. It was this weird... _delusion_ they had."

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me this?"

"Luke only told me after you stopped talking to us."

"I didn't stop talking to you."

"Then don't admit it. It's all the same." Aki caught himself too late to stop the bitter remark, but then he pressed his lips together to compose himself. Dylan _had_ stopped talking to them. He'd looked at Luke with complete disgust and he'd never reached out to him after that.

"Okay," Dylan whispered, holding up his hands in surrender. He went back to the topic. "Why did they think that?"

"I don't know. But they did. It was David's plan all along." It was at this moment that Aki's eyes filled with tears. He kept his hand over them, determined to stay in control.

"I see." Dylan was quiet. "You couldn't have done anything."

"So my name's cleared," Aki muttered. The tears in his eyes would not go away.

"Aki," Dylan moaned softly. "Aki, I'm tryin', lad."

"So am I. You think I fucking get it? I don't get it. I don't get what they lived through. I don't get what they felt or what kind of pain they were in. David's never told anyone what they went through before you found them. I don't understand it."

"But you acted like you did."

"Because I _tried_!" Aki snapped, finally dropping his hand to glare through his tears. "Because Luke was still alive and I wanted him to know I was on his side. And even if I don't get it, I know he wouldn't have let David go if he thought he had a choice. Just like I know David wouldn't have left Luke alone if he thought _he_ had a choice. Why can't you see that?" He felt the heat of anger rising in his chest. "The way you treated him, Dylan. You looked at him like he was _trash_."

"How can you judge me like that?" Dylan demanded suddenly. "They were my _brothers_ , Aki, and I am family and I should have a fuckin' say in who decides to die. You can't hold it against me if I'm fuckin' angry!"

"So am I!" Aki shouted, jumping to his feet so fast his chair shot back and hit the cabinets behind him. "Is that what I have to say? You want me to talk shit about the dead with you?" He took a short breath before he let it out in a rush. "I hated David for it. I hated him for doing that to Luke. And I think about him not being there when Jen came, and I still hate him for it sometimes. Does that make you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Dylan was silent, looking at Aki with a shamed expression that seemed to confirm that this was, in fact, what he had wanted.

"I would've told you all that. I _wanted_ to tell you. But you had to fucking blow it up. You had to blame it all on Luke, like he didn't feel bad enough about it, like it wasn't hard enough for him to hold it together—"

"I didn't mean to put that on you, lad."

"Well you know what, Dylan?" Aki had completely abandoned his commitment to composure. "You blame Luke for David. I blame you for Luke. We'll call it even."

"Jesus, Aki!" Dylan breathed, staring up at him in horror.

"What?"

Dylan shook his head, apparently stunned by the remark. "Sit down."

Aki obeyed, glaring at the table. Inside it was all despair. Just fucking grief. He was so mad—at Dylan, at David, maybe even at Luke. At Mark, too. At everyone. Everyone but Ken.

Dylan was just staring at him, stricken. At last he said, "I think I understand."

Aki said nothing.

"Maybe you loved 'im, both of 'em, better than I did," Dylan continued softly. "You stood by 'em when I didn't. And you're still standin' by 'em. You're loyal, Aki. And I'm truly sorry I wasn't strong enough to do what you did. I let grief take over, and I let 'im down. I am sorry."

The words sank in slowly, and when they started to penetrate, Aki closed his eyes.

Did it make him feel any better, finally hearing this?

"And I hope you can forgive me," Dylan went on. "Because I can't lose you, too."

"Then you have to stop blaming Luke." Aki didn't want to talk anymore, but he swallowed hard and forced it out, because he wasn't just speaking for himself. "I don't know what it was that made David want to die. But I know there are things we don't understand. And I know Luke tried to beat it. You can't blame him for failing. It's too late to apologize, but you can't blame him anymore."

"Okay," Dylan whispered, studying him with raw concern written on his brow. He nodded. "Okay."

There was a long silence.

Aki was having trouble digesting where they were. Was this a step forward? He longed desperately for Dylan's old friendship. Could this really be put to rest between them?

Was it perhaps possible to get through this? Or was he setting himself up for more grief when peacetime crumbled?

"I'm gonna go," he said at last, and pulled himself to his feet.

Dylan stood up, too, and met him beside the table to pull him into an embrace.

Aki accepted it halfheartedly. He wasn't nearly ready for Dylan's comfort, as badly as he wanted it.

"I'm sorry," Dylan whispered into his neck, holding him tight. "Wish I could tell 'im, Aki. I am sorry."

"So am I," Aki murmured, and slowly pulled away.

#  6. Finally

Jin walked ahead of Ken into the hotel room, going straight to the wood and glass doors that led to the balcony. Directly below was a steep, rocky drop to a black pebble beach. Huge, jagged rocks lined the cove, and even the calmest waves rushed loudly against them. Jin was down with the ocean. But Ken liked it more, he knew. He had a weird bent for nature.

He was still a little high on the fact that Ken had come with him. It was never easy to tell what the kid wanted to do, but Jin seemed to be having some success in guessing lately. Food and fast cars were safe bets. Apparently, so were quiet places with ocean views.

This was just a fucking pleasant evening, was what it was. The ache behind his eyes was significantly lighter now, and so was the grating buzz of overexposure. It really was like being with Jackson.

But it was more _fun_. And the anticipation was delicious. Goddamn, he was into it. And the way Ken had listened to him earlier, like he was actually interested in what he had to say, willing to learn from him, not to mention possibly open to getting back in bed with him, it was...

"Would a normal person die if they jumped?" Ken asked, coming up beside him and leaning over the chest-high railing.

"That's a fifty-foot drop."

"So maybe not."

"Kinda hard to survive bouncing down those rocks."

"Oh."

A fucking pleasant evening. Why was Ken going along with him so easily? Had Jin finally won him over? He wondered what Ken would have done if he had tried something in the shower. It read like a blatant invitation, but his gut told him nothing was that simple with Ken. Besides, they'd barely talked yet, and Aki and David were droning on in the background. It would have been a waste. Better to wait.

And it wasn't like he hadn't gotten off on it a little, being naked and wet with him, like they did that all the time. It gave him funny feelings to know that Ken wasn't shy about stripping down in front of him.

"You cold?" he asked Ken now, using it as an excuse to look him over. The kid looked better every time he saw him—it couldn't be his imagination. It had been weeks since anyone could have called him scrawny. Skinny, sure, but he looked strong. Or maybe Jin just knew he was. Anyway, he looked good.

"I don't get cold." Ken was still staring down at the rocks and waves, the wind sweeping his black hair across his forehead. His shoulders were sharp under his tee shirt and cotton hoodie, his legs long in his slim jeans. Shit, Jin wanted to eat him. He wondered if Ken would be the one to act again. After Jin had teased him for not doing it earlier, it could go either way.

Just then Ken turned and caught him looking.

They had a staring contest for a moment, leaving Jin to guess, as always, what the fuck was going on behind those mismatched eyes.

"Give me something," Jin prompted.

Ken frowned. "What?"

"Show me some thought-camouflage." Jin turned toward him, leaning closer and propping his arm on the railing. "Try it out. Put a thought on the surface for me."

The frown deepened, and then it became a glare. "No."

"Why not?"

"Don't be an idiot. You said you wanted silence."

"Yeah, but one little—"

Ken reached out and took hold of the front of his shirt, pulling him close without a word.

Sultry brat. It was hard not to close the last inches between them, but Jin resisted. "That the only way you know how to change the subject?" he murmured. "Reminding me how bad I wanna fuck you?"

Those light and dark green eyes stared back at him, magnetic and merciless. "Is that what you want?"

"It is right now," Jin murmured, looking from the icy jade to the sea green and then down to Ken's pink lips. "That what you want?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" Jin smiled. He slowly reached up and took a fistful of Ken's shirt, mirroring him. "How do I find out for sure?"

"Try it."

Jin let out a breath of laughter and then pressed his lips to Ken's.

So soft.

Jin pulled him closer. His lips tasted so fucking good. Fuck, he wanted Ken naked now—wanted to bear him down against the floor of the balcony and get inside him _now_. His dick was already stiffening in his pants as their bodies rubbed together with the kiss, and he gripped Ken's ass to press against him even tighter.

"Let's go inside," Jin breathed, and exhaled when Ken caught his lower lip and sucked it between his teeth. When had he learned to kiss like that? Just a moment later, Ken suddenly pulled away and turned to walk back into the room, leaving Jin leaning after him.

Jin paused to find gravity before he followed. He felt deprived by the sudden lack of contact, like his body _needed_ Ken's against it. But Ken was headed straight for the bed, and then he was standing at the foot of it and reaching for the hem of his shirt.

Stepping forward, Jin stopped him and took over. He dropped the shirt on the floor and leaned back slightly to look at what he'd exposed. The narrow torso, taut chest and lean, muscled abdomen, the sharp hipbones and the tight skin between them. He was struck by an urge to drop to his knees and press his face against the smooth stretch below his navel, but somehow he stayed on his feet.

Jesus, how was he going to get through this with any dignity? Already he was greedy for what he'd gotten from Ken the time before, the changes in his breathing, the rocking of his hips. Already his dick was throbbing, the friction of his trunks and jeans unbearable. He peeled off his shirt and pulled Ken close for another hungry kiss.

Ken's fingers fumbled at his jeans for a moment before he got them open, and Jin sighed in relief.

"Did you think about it?" Jin asked against his lips.

"No."

"Liar."

Ken shut him up with another kiss, and then his phone rang.

Immediately he put a hand on Jin's chest and pushed him away, taking the phone from his back pocket and turning away to answer the call. "Hi."

Aki had a black belt in cockblocking.

"With Jin," Ken said blankly. "About eight miles north."

Jin couldn't help smirking. What would the haughty son of a bitch think of that? Would he have the slightest inkling of an idea that he'd interrupted them getting naked? Probably. Not much got past Aki, he had to admit.

"Nothing. Yeah." Ken listened for a few moments. "I don't know."

Jin studied Ken's back, stepping closer to look for the web of scars. There they were, so faint he wouldn't have seen them in the shadows if not for his perfect vision. Dense constellations of scars, all shapes and sizes, clouds and spots and bold lines and sharp threads of white. Jin had seen, in the others' memories, what those scars had looked like before Luke had used his healing Talent smooth them out. Surely he could have erased them altogether. Jin could only assume Ken had asked him not to.

"Okay. Bye." Ken finally hung up and turned back to him. Before Jin could make his next move, he saw Ken's eyes drift down to his gaping jeans.

"Take them off," Ken said.

Hadn't Ken done this last time, too, ordering him to undress? Jin wasn't complaining. He did as he was asked, never looking away from those cool eyes. "You didn't say hi to Aki for me."

Ken met his gaze. "I can call him back."

"C'mere."

Ken looked down at his trunks. "You're not done."

A shiver went down Jin's spine—maybe his cock, too—and he eyed the kid in wonder. "What _are_ you?"

Ken's gaze was almost a glare. Almost. "You don't wanna take them off?"

"I wanna do what you tell me to."

A touch of surprise showed in Ken's eyes, and he wasn't the only one—Jin hadn't really meant it to come out like that. Or maybe he had. Fuck if he knew up from down or sideways at the moment.

At length Ken asked, "What if I tell you to put your clothes back on?"

Another jolt of arousal went through Jin's body. Did Ken even know what he was doing? It wasn't at all surprising that he would assert control now. But did he know how good he was at it?

"Yeah," Jin said at last, and licked his lips. "Sure. If that's what you want."

Ken studied him for a hard moment, and then, apparently satisfied, he repeated his command. "Take them off."

Jin pushed the trunks down his hips, kicked them aside, and stood naked, watching Ken's eyes move slowly over his body. This was driving him crazy. Ken was hitting all of his switches and making it look like an accident.

"C'mere," Jin said again, wanting to get Ken's jeans off and see the rest of him.

"You."

Whatever. Jin closed the distance between them and hooked his finger in Ken's waistband, popping the button. "You're pretty fuckin' good at this."

"At what?"

"This." Jin drew the zipper down, feeling Ken's hands at his waist, feeling them slide up his spine. "Did you plan for it?"

"You never shut up."

"You don't really want me to."

Ken's smile was unexpected. He glanced down as his pants fell to the floor.

"Second time we've been naked tonight," Jin said.

"You're counting?"

Jin kissed him greedily, working his underwear down his hips. He drew Ken toward the bed and laid back on the mattress, pulled Ken down with him, groaning when he felt that smooth, naked weight on top of him and the hot, stiff length of Ken's sex against his hip.

Ken squirmed for a moment, lifting his hips to find a comfortable way to fit their bodies together. He held his weight on his elbows, his arms curled under Jin's shoulders, his hips pressed against Jin's hips, thighs tight on either side. Kissing him like this was fucking delicious—the whole beautiful expanse of hard muscle and smooth skin exposed for his touch. Jin's hand glided down Ken's ribs to grip a handful of his ass, stroking and kneading.

"Does it actually feel good?" Ken breathed, moving slightly against him.

"Yeah, it feels good," Jin replied, nipping the edge of his jaw and then gently latching onto his earlobe. Ken shivered, and Jin smoothed a hand down his back again.

He sought Ken's lips again, but Ken was sitting up, straddling one of his legs and looking down at him with an inscrutable expression. Jin ran a hand up his thigh, his thumb circling his hipbone before wrapping around his long, straight dick.

Ken looked down at what he was doing, his lips parting. His stomach tightened visibly at the first stroke and Jin made a low sound of admiration, reaching up with his other hand to feel the muscle there. "You look so fuckin' good."

"Shut up."

"Be nice."

Ken cracked a smile again. What a weird sense of humor. Jin wondered if any of the others got to see him smile as much as Jin did. He knew they didn't get to do this. Maybe those two things were related.

It was amazing how freely his thoughts wandered when he didn't have to hack his way through the constant, relentless cacophony of the minds around him. He could still hear them now, distant murmurs in the shadows, but they were easy to ignore when he was basking in the silence of Ken's head. It was fucking glorious.

Just like it was with Jackson. But Ken was not Jackson. Not at all.

"I wanna try it."

Jin looked up and found those green eyes on his again. "Try what?"

Ken narrowed his eyes, distinctly unamused.

"All right." Jin sat up, reaching around to cradle Ken's hips and keep him balanced. "Sorry."

"Dick," Ken muttered, but he settled in closer on Jin's lap, arms resting loosely around his shoulders.

"I know." Jin kept exploring Ken's cock with his fingers, pausing now and again to circle the smooth head with his thumb. When he dragged his knuckles softly over the velvety skin of his balls, Ken exhaled and bowed his head.

Jin's head was swimming. He drifted between wanting to tear Ken to pieces with his lips and hands and wanting to explore him in languid slow motion. Most of all, though, he wanted more of _that_ —more puffs of air from those perfect lips, more of his low voice, more of his muscles tightening in reaction. He wanted to hear him moan and sob. He wanted to see Ken completely undone.

"Whatever you want," Jin said quietly, teasing him with feather light touches now, reaching back with the other hand to feel up his ass.

"Do you have..." Ken swallowed. "The stuff you need?"

God. That. Lightheaded. Jin was losing his head. He nodded dumbly, speechless over how— _whatever_ this was. He couldn't think.

Christ, he was in love with the kid, wasn't he? He had to be fucking in love with him.

"Where?" Ken asked.

"Shhh." Jin closed his eyes and leaned forward until he could seal his lips to Ken's neck. Shit, he needed to get a grip.

Lifting his head, he lay back and twisted to reach into the nightstand for a small black box. The hotel was a popular Young Hollywood retreat, beloved for irreverent touches like its bedside amenity kits. Jin might have thought about that ahead of time.

He rose up on his knees so that they were kneeling face to face. The box held an assortment of sexual accessories—condoms, a chic bullet vibe designed by a Swedish architectural firm or some shit, wet wipes with haiku on the packages, and a bottle of lubricant. Jin tossed the condoms onto the bed and picked up the lube, looking up when Ken took it from his hand.

Jin watched him inspect the bottle, open the cap, and test a small amount in his palm. "Put it on—"

Ken reached down and lightly smeared it down the length of Jin's dick. He paused uncertainly and then closed his fingers around the shaft, spreading the liquid in a few careful strokes.

For a brief, alarming moment, Jin thought he was going to come. He clenched his thighs and exhaled slowly, pulling himself back from the edge. What was he, thirteen? Jesus.

Trying to focus, Jin took the bottle and tipped it over his own fingers, giving himself plenty to work with before he put one hand around Ken's cock. He slipped his other hand further back, sliding his slick fingertips gently down the crack of his ass.

Ken simultaneously stiffened and shivered, gripping Jin's arm.

"Relax," Jin murmured, running his fingertips along the crevice, up and down, not yet pausing to tease the small clench of muscle he could feel with each pass.

"I am relaxed." Ken was blatantly lying, but it didn't matter—the breathlessness in his voice made Jin feel triumphant.

"Feel good?"

Ken shifted. "Feels okay."

Jin grinned before he seized Ken's lips in a determined kiss. "I don't mind that game," he said, bringing his closed fist up over the tip of Ken's cock and twisting it back down.

Ken's features trembled before the brat lowered his face again. With a fresh surge of confidence Jin went even further, gently pressing his middle fingertip against Ken's entrance.

Ken stiffened again, his face hidden.

"It's okay," Jin murmured. "If you wanna stop—"

"Shut up," Ken sighed, and shifted on his knees. "Just do it."

Little shit said it like he was doing Jin a favor. Jin didn't mind, though. How could he mind anything when he was smearing boutique lube in careful circles around Ken's tight, perfect asshole? "I can't just _do_ it," he said. "It won't feel as good if you're tense."

Ken looked at him with something between irritation and impatience. He shifted his knees again, bringing his body up close, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, the hard line of his cock sliding up along Jin's. Slipping his arms around Jin's shoulders, Ken brought his lips close to his ear. "Try."

Oh, he wasn't going to make it through this.

"You're so fuckin' cool," Jin whispered, and felt the puff of Ken's laughter against his hair. He kept rubbing and teasing, turning his head to catch Ken's earlobe between his lips. Then both of them stopped breathing for a second when he pushed the tip of his finger inside.

Ken trembled for a moment, his arms tightening on Jin's shoulders. They tightened more as Jin's touch slid deeper, and then he seemed to will himself to relax.

Jin pressed his face to Ken's shoulder, shuddering as he worked his touch in slow circles, feeling the tight muscles begin to let him in deeper. This could _not_ be what was next. He could not imagine living in the kind of benevolent reality where he would get to put his dick inside something that fucking good—someone this fucking great.

"That feels good," Ken whispered unexpectedly, his fingers absently stroking between Jin's shoulder blades. Another slow thrust and he exhaled sharply, hiding his face again.

"Yeah?" Jin kept it slow, because this was going to be perfect if it killed him. And if it killed him, fuck it—he'd die in the slow rhythm of swaying that their bodies took up, keeping time with each probing stroke.

For several minutes, Ken held onto his composure. Each time his breath hitched and it seemed like he was starting to come undone, he steadied himself with a measured sigh. It was exasperating. But finally, the barest whisper of a moan escaped, and it hit Jin like a drug.

"C'mere." Jin lay back and pulled Ken down on top of him. He kept his movements slow and steady as he eased another finger inside, patiently working him open, wanting more of that low voice, more lapses in control.

It was working. Ken was breathing harder, and every glimpse of his expression hinted at how much more he was feeling than what he wanted to let on.

"Do it," Ken said, his voice unsteady. He took a deep breath as Jin's fingers stroked even more firmly inside him.

Jin reached up with his free hand and brushed Ken's hair aside to see his face, which was exquisitely fraught, like it was taking him a great deal of effort not to succumb to these sensations. "A little more of this," he said.

"Why?"

"So it doesn't hurt."

"It's not gonna hurt," Ken said stubbornly.

"Just wait." Jin laughed under his breath at the absurdity of Ken's impatience. He could tell he was touching him the right way now, and he curled his fingers more intently.

Ken made a soft, choked sound, his head and shoulders dropping and his hot breath spilling against Jin's neck.

Groaning softly, Jin looked down over Ken's shoulder to where his own hand was moving with rhythmic intent. "You want me to stop?" Feeling Ken shake his head, he reached up and ran a hand through his silky hair before turning his face for another kiss.

But Ken's lips kept going slack and distracted, and Jin was so turned on he felt like he might start crying if he didn't get this going soon. He moved his lips down that long, smooth neck, felt a shiver go all the way down Ken's body. _Fuck_ this was good.

"Get on your back," Jin murmured, gently sliding his fingers free and nudging Ken aside.

The change in position briefly disturbed whatever spell Ken had been under, and he shifted with visible uncertainty. But Jin simply moved between his knees and went back to what he was doing, now reaching down to stroke him off at the same time. The tension left Ken's body again, his eyes closing and his head falling back on the pillow.

Jin paused to pick up the lube again and drizzle it over his own aching cock, sighing as he slicked himself with a few firm, calming strokes. He looked down at Ken, admiring his long, narrow body, all smooth skin and sharp edges. Ken's thighs were splayed; Jin felt like he was being pulled between them by some invisible force. "You really want it?"

Ken reached up and raked his hair out of his face, fixing his eyes on Jin once more. "You think you'd get this far if I didn't?"

Brat. Jin smiled, pulled his fingers out again and lowered himself over Ken.

There was no tension in Ken's body now—maybe he'd been reassured—but it was still fucking _tight_ when Jin nudged against him, and he shuddered with anticipation.

Pressing his lips to Ken's neck for a few fevered kisses, he slowly pushed forward. When Ken's body began to give, opening slowly around the tip of his cock, Jin let out a long, shaking breath and gripped the sheets.

"Fuck," Ken hissed abruptly, and he turned his face away.

"Is—"

Ken grabbed his ass and pulled him closer.

"Easy," Jin begged, shuddering again as he let himself go deeper, slowly sheathing himself in that tight, hot grip.

A low moan spilled out of Ken's lips, and it was hard to tell if there was pain in the pleasure, but it sounded even better than that hand felt on his ass, urging him on.

Just as Jin had feared, this was spiraling out of his control. Ken wasn't supposed to set the pace—but how could Jin stop him? He could barely keep his head on straight, and every second it was harder to keep himself from thrusting like an animal.

Ken shivered beneath him, thighs taut and tense against Jin's waist. "Don't go slow."

"Stop giving me orders." Jin brushed his lips against Ken's throat and rocked his hips.

"You said..." Ken trailed off, biting his lips.

Jin watched him, moving steadily now. It was good. It was fucking _good_. He could have sworn his orgasm was already coursing through his body, straining to get out. "I said what?"

"Shut up." Ken turned his head aside again and put a hand over his face, but the other hand he kept on Jin, letting go of his ass and clinging to his lower back. "Just do it."

Then Ken's hips were moving, and that was it. Jin gave in with a wrecked groan, letting his thrusts take on the steady rhythm they both obviously wanted. There was no way to resist it.

"Fuck," he gasped. He reached down to grip Ken's thigh and move it to where he could get the angle he needed, and he was rewarded when Ken gave a choked cry and let his hand fall from his face. It found the sheets instead, grabbing a white-knuckled handful. His cool, sharp features were torn up in ecstasy.

There was too much perfection for Jin to take in all at once. He pressed his face into that smooth throat and tried not to let the tight, slick drag of Ken's ass around his cock take over what little control remained.

This wasn't going to take long. There was no way.

He'd never felt this out of control before, not when he was supposed to be in charge—never felt so overpowered by the strange urge to bury the person beneath him in the kind of kisses that _said_ things. Never had those feelings at a time like this, never wanted it to last so bad, except with Jackson, and this wasn't fucking Jackson, this was different, this was Ken, this was—

"More," Ken blurted, grabbing his hair, and Jin knew he was done for.

The tension building in his body was almost terrifying. He wasn't just going to come. He was going to go nuclear. He was going to explode. He reached down to grab Ken's dick, stroking him with desperate urgency.

"Come on," Jin whispered, driving into him steadily. It was coiling dangerously in his thighs and abs—fuck, in his chest and shoulders, in his arms, his fingertips, in his _bones._

A harsh gasp came from Ken, and his legs tightened at Jin's hips. His fist clenched painfully in Jin's hair, pushing another button he had no way of knowing about.

"Fuck," Jin choked out, and just before he went over the edge, he finally got what he wanted.

Ken's body arched. A pearly streak of come hit Jin's chest, and then another. Ken's hips bucked with each spasm of his body, his fingers digging into Jin's skin, his rough cries echoing in the cool room.

That was the last thing Jin understood before he fell apart.

His climax was explosive. Devastating. It stripped his senses raw.

In those wild, whirling moments, collapsing over Ken's quaking body, feeling those skinny arms wind around his shoulders as he emptied himself, he felt like he was somewhere he'd never been before—somewhere he felt like he _needed_ to be.

It left him dazed, his senses blown. When he started to come back around, he found that Ken was gasping as hard as he was, shaking just as much.

Thank fucking god.

Carefully, Jin disengaged himself and slid to the bed at Ken's side. There was no strength left in his muscles. His bones had turned liquid. But remembering how quickly Ken had gone for the shower the time before, he fumbled for the box on the nightstand and managed to rip open one of the towelettes with his teeth.

Ken jumped and opened his eyes when Jin started to clean him up. He didn't stop him, but looked at him with yet another unreadable expression. His cheeks were still flushed, his brilliant green eyes heavy-lidded. "Thanks."

Jin tossed the towelette aside and slipped his hand along Ken's jaw, pulling him close to claim his lips again. Kissing him felt so good after all that, he didn't want to stop.

But even his mouth was sapped of strength, and after a moment he had to let his head fall to the pillow. Reaching up to stroke the damp hair from Ken's temple, he mumbled, "Anytime."

#  7. Death and David

Ken spent the day wandering the city, crossing his fingers Jin wouldn't find him. The telepath had grumbled a stream of complaints when Ken pulled away from his arms and got out of bed early in the morning, whining that he wouldn't be able to sleep without him.

Oddly enough, Ken wasn't without sympathy. The telepath still looked like shit, and the whole bruised Talent concept was disconcerting.

But what was he supposed to do, spend the whole day with him? After all that? No fucking way. He needed to get out of there and clear his head, or else what would happen? They'd spend the whole day fucking, or something. And he wouldn't be able to keep his head straight.

That stuff was dangerous.

Even as serious as he was about getting out of there, he still hadn't felt the tiniest urge to resist when Jin came into the shower and pressed him against the wall. No, he let it happen—let Jin drop to his knees, let himself surrender to the telepath's freakishly good-feeling lips.

It was _baffling_ how good it was. It didn't make any sense. A tongue, a finger, a kiss—it was just skin on skin. But the way his body reacted, the way his _brain_ reacted...

What the hell was that about? How was he supposed to function if he was going to lose his mind whenever Jin reached for his dick?

What had he gotten himself into?

He even went to watch a movie, trying to get himself back to normal. It was not very effective. The film wasn't great, and he kept expecting Jin to come in and sit down beside him. To his relief, that didn't happen. To his relief.

And then, worst of all, he started thinking about Sky. Because Sky was going to know it had happened. Their empathic link made that certain.

What would come of that? Sky had thrown such a massive tantrum the first time he _thought_ Ken and Jin had fucked, half of Paris had been left with a migraine. True, he seemed to have leveled out in the months he'd spent with Mark and Lip—and if he had sensed what had happened between Ken and Jin a week ago, he hadn't said anything while Ken was at ARSI.

But Ken had learned not to expect the calm to last. Sky was moving to the coast soon, moving in with Dylan. Could he really be expected to keep his mouth shut now that his worst fears had come true?

Dammit, what a pain in the ass. What a fucking pain in the ass.

It was starting to grow dark when he arrived back at Aki's, and the house was quiet. Aki was gone, he sensed, and David seemed to be in his room. He was kind of surprised the Irish boy had been left alone, but he guessed Aki was trying to test the progress they'd made with Sky in the past week. It was probably fine, Ken thought. David wasn't any less miserable, but his despair had faded into something more manageable.

Ken was glad. He really liked David. Why, he didn't know. The twin was nothing like he'd been before, all weird and miserable and a little creepy. But Ken liked him all the same.

There were three texts from Lupe on his phone. The last one was a frowning face. She wasn't the type to get angry, but he had been brushing her off for a week. It wasn't like their relationship was even slightly serious—they just met up sometimes, had sex, occasionally went to the beach or something—but he had a feeling he wasn't supposed to just ignore people he was having sex with.

Well. Except Jin. But that was different.

Shit. Maybe he _should_ just go hang out with Lupe. Lupe was easy to deal with. Her world was simple, and having sex with her didn't feel like falling into a fucking volcano.

Ken went out to the back deck and sat on the bench placed against the house, thinking about how to respond to her messages.

He still hadn't come up with anything when the door opened and David stepped out onto the deck. Ken looked at him with some surprise. "Hi."

"Hey." David said, and stood quietly staring at him for a moment. "Mind if I join you?"

Ken shook his head and watched David approach and sit beside him on the bench. The Irish boy was holding a blunt between his fingers, almost certainly the same one Ken had given him when he'd first come back. It wasn't lit now, but it had obviously been smoked.

Ken's phone buzzed with a new message from Lupe.

:( Did I do sth to piss u off?

He sighed softly, grimacing.

David raised a brow. "What's up?"

What would David do if Ken talked to him about girl problems? Maybe it'd cheer him up. It was the least serious thing happening anywhere in his world, anyway.

"There's a girl I see sometimes," he said uncertainly. "She wants to know why I haven't been talking to her."

David stared at him for a long moment. It was hard to tell, but he might have been a little amused. "Why haven't you been talkin' to her?"

"Uh, I've been busy."

"Yeah, probably shouldn't tell 'er why."

Suddenly Ken realized why he liked David, or at least part of it. He should have figured it out sooner. It was those dry remarks, his constant sarcasm. It couldn't be called humor, considering how miserable he was. But there was something wry about his attitude, an underlying irony, an ingrained kind of wit. David had always been laughing before, always making unexpected jokes. It was disarming that the habit hadn't completely disappeared, not even in the depths of his misery—even if he had been reduced to the darkest, bleakest version of humor.

David raised his eyebrows slightly, and Ken realized they'd just been staring at each other. "So what're you gonna do?" David asked.

"I told her I've been busy. But she thinks I'm mad."

"Family emergency."

"What?"

David held out his hand, and after an uncomprehending moment Ken realized he was asking for the phone. He handed it over and watched as David set the blunt in his lap and started to type out a reply to Lupe's text.

"It's not...you. I've been...dealing...with a...family...emergency. My cousin...was in...an accident...and it's been...kind of...fucked up. I'm sorry...I should have...told you." David hit send.

"Oh," Ken said, surprised. A few moments later, the phone buzzed.

"'OMG,'" David read. "'I'm so sorry babe. What kind of accident? Is your cousin okay?'" He looked at Ken. "You like 'er? Still wanna hang?"

Ken nodded, and blinked when David immediately began to type a reply.

"I don't...wanna...talk...about it...but thanks. It...means...a lot." His thumb moved toward "send," hovered there for a moment, and returned to the keyboard. "He will be...okay, I hope. I will...text you...soon." The message was sent, and David handed the phone back to Ken.

"Thank you," Ken said, taken aback. "You're good at that."

The phone buzzed again. Lupe had sent him a picture of herself blowing a kiss. _Thinking of u take care of urself Ken :)_

"Sweet person," David said. "Good for you."

Ken pocketed the phone, embarrassed, even more so when he felt his cheeks turning red. Unlike David, though, he was not good at conversation, and couldn't do anything but sit there sheepishly. And that gave him a moment to consider how depressing it was that David, who had just come back from the dead, could act more normal than he could.

He wondered if he'd ever be able to catch up with everyone else, know all the things people did and all the ways they did them.

"Wasn't too friendly to you, was I?" David asked suddenly. "Back in the day? Sorry about that. I wasn't feelin' too good at the time. Not sure anyone noticed."

Ken smiled slightly. "I'm glad you...well, you're not as bad as you were."

"A conservative assessment. No, I'm not as bad as I was." David sighed heavily. "Things ain't changin' anytime soon. No choice but to adapt. Now, I say this to myself every fuckin' time. I should probably think of improvin' that, 'cause it's not really gettin' me anywhere in the long run. Fuck me, the long run." David looked up into the sky with a miserable, faraway expression. "Hasn't even started."

"I hope you don't die again," Ken said hesitantly. "Since you hate coming back." He sounded crazy. "It's safer to stay alive."

"That's exactly right, lad. It is safer to stay alive. If I could just master that skill." David closed his eyes, laughing quietly. "Ah, you can't really blame Dylan, can you? For thinkin' I'm an idiot."

Ken thought about all of this for a while.

He'd died before, too. For a long time it seemed like he never would. His Talent had kept him alive through every injury and mutilation his captors heaped on him for years. But then one day, somehow, they went too far and severed most of his throat. That was how he escaped. They shoved him in a bag and threw him in a trash pit, where he woke up, alone, mangled, but alive.

But he'd been _happy_ to wake up. And it was hard to imagine not wanting to survive. It was hard to understand why David was so upset that he wasn't dead. And why kill himself in the first place? What had made it so hard to be alive?

At last, cautiously, Ken asked, "Why did you do it?"

"Well," David said, and was quiet for a very long moment before he spoke again. "I always wanted to."

"Always?" That was even more confusing. "Why?"

David grimaced and slowly tilted his head from one side to the other, as if weighing whether or not to explain. Ken had almost given up when David spoke again. "I've died a lot of times," he said. "And I never liked comin' back. They always killed me again, and it just wore me out, like."

"Who?" Ken asked, startled.

"Our parents." David looked down at the blunt in his hand and slowly lifted it to his lips. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a red lighter, and flicked it at the end of the cigar. The flame cast a glow on his face, illuminating his smooth skin, which looked white as bone in the dark. His cheeks hollowed and then he pulled the cigar from his lips with a faint pop, exhaling a long cloud of smoke.

"They were mad," he said at last. "That's why Dylan ran off, before we were born, y'know. They just got worse and worse. Somethin' about us bein' twins set 'em off, I think. Somethin' about me. They thought they had to beat the devil out of me."

Ken grimaced faintly. He'd seen a story on the news once about a kid dying in an exorcism. He wondered if that was how it was.

"The first time I died," David said, "Luke brought me back. Of course. They say Talent doesn't start 'til later, but Luke's started when we were kids. And that made 'em crazier, me comin' back to life. Proved I was a demon, y'know, stupid shit. So it got worse and worse. And I _hated_ dyin'. It was never easy. Not once. I mean it was hell. After the third time I begged Luke not to bring me back again."

Ken frowned. Three times? That couldn't be right. "How did you know you died? Maybe you passed out..."

"Oh," David's breath of laughter was miserable. "I knew. I saw what he had to fix. I don't even know how he did it sometimes. But besides that you can taste it when you wake up. And that feelin', of fallin' backwards, you can remember that—can't you?"

Disarmed by the question, Ken looked again and found the twin's beautiful face drawn tight with agitation, searching for acknowledgment of an experience so few knew. After a lost moment, Ken nodded. "Yeah. I remember."

David seemed vaguely relieved, slumping slightly in the bench and turning his gaze to the cigar in his hand. He brought it up to his lips and laid his head back, closing his eyes and exhaling smoke again. "I kept beggin' 'im every time. I just couldn't take it anymore."

"How many times have you died?" Ken asked, and somehow remembered to blink.

The Irish boy's brow knotted as though he felt a sudden cramp of pain, and his head on the back of the bench lolled slightly toward the question. "I lost count," he confessed. "He just couldn't let me go. Of course he needed me. I didn't wanna leave 'im alone. But it was hell wakin' up, goin' through it again. Worse every fuckin' time. Jesus," he laughed bitterly, and dropped his head to reach up and rub his eyes with one hand. "What'm I puttin' all this on you for? Fuck me."

"I..." Ken wasn't sure what to say. He shook his head. "I don't mind."

David shook his head with a grim smile.

"I really don't."

_"Fuck_ not havin' him here with me," David sighed, and closed his eyes again. "Now I know how he felt. Shouldn'tve done that to 'im." His face was strained, as though he might cry.

How did Aki and Lip always know what to say in serious conversations? Ken had no idea, and he wished he did. "It's not like that," he said at last.

David looked at him with vague surprise, almost as though he'd forgotten Ken was there. He studied him, abashed, and then shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"But it wasn't your fault."

"Oh, don't think that, lad," David said quietly. "It was my choice to die, and it was my fault. Fuck's sake, it doesn't matter. You want some of this?"

Ken wasn't remotely interested in getting high just then, but he didn't want David to get up and leave or something. He accepted the blunt and took a small puff.

"You been to school yet?"

"No," Ken said, disarmed by the change of subject, not to mention the absurdity of the question.

"Think we should get you started?"

"No. I don't know. Why?"

"So you can see what real people are like," David laughed softly, but it was like a ghost's laugh. He looked limp on the bench, all the hope gone from his body.

"I don't like people."

The Irish boy didn't respond at first, and then a faint smile grew on his face. He turned his head and lifted his gaze to Ken's, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You don't?"

"I mean. I like some. I just don't want to spend all day talking to a lot of them."

David's smile grew to actually show his teeth, just for a moment, and it was like a flash of sunlight on his face. "Fair," he admitted. "I liked it, though. Talkin' to 'em. Arguin' with the dumb ones. And the girls, I loved 'em."

Ken found himself smiling back. David had friends, he remembered. He remembered the twin leaving to meet up with people Ken never met or saw. That made him realize something. "Are the others friends with any real people?" He didn't know why he used David's term. He never had before.

The smile faded slowly. "Not anymore."

They heard a car pulling in. Ken first assumed it was Aki, but then had a sudden, worrisome thought.

"Need some eye drops?" David asked.

Ken almost didn't get it, but then remembered Lupe putting in eye drops to cure her bloodshot eyes when they left the apartment after she got high. "No," he said. "I thought it might be Sky."

David raised his eyebrow slightly. "Didn't look happy."

Ken gave him an odd look, then realized David didn't know much about him and Sky. "No," he said. "We don't get along. Still."

"Shame."

Before he made a smart remark, Ken decided it probably wasn't a good idea. "Yeah," he agreed simply, because from David's perspective, he guessed it probably was a shame. David would probably do anything to have Luke back.

Ken wondered idly if he should try a little harder with Sky. Not _now_ , obviously. But he guessed he could at least think about it.

It was Aki who stepped out onto the deck. He looked between them, and then his eyes fell on the blunt in Ken's hand. "Ken," he said, startled and with a tone of disapproval.

"It's mine," David said, and took the blunt back. "I was just letting him hold it."

The look on Aki's face was brief but beautiful: surprised, then painfully happy. That one casual remark from David apparently pleased him so much that he forgot about the weed entirely. "You guys hungry?"

"Yeah," David said. "You cookin'?"

Aki blinked, clearly astonished by David's improved demeanor. "Or we could order."

David looked at Ken, who looked between them and shrugged. "Thai sounds good," David said.

Aki nodded, and went inside.

Ken smiled after him, excited by the sudden bloom of happiness. Maybe if David kept doing better, it would keep cheering Aki up. "Thanks," he said to David, nodding at the weed.

"Oh, he didn't buy it. But you're welcome." David took one last hit, then carefully smudged it out on the underside of the bench.

They sat there for a long while, looking out at the ocean.

#  8. Sky Clears Up

Sky wasn't expecting Lip. No one usually knocked on his door at ARSI but Mark.

"Hi," he said, and resisted the urge to tie his hair back. Lip was always so damn intimidating. Sky always felt stupid when he was around, like he dressed wrong, talked wrong, acted wrong.

"Hey, mate," Lip said casually, dressed in a pair of brown pants and a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up. As always, he looked like a model on a day off. "Mind if I hang for awhile?"

"No, come in." At least he always kept a clean room. Lip wouldn't find anything wrong on that front. Sky always kept things perfectly tidy, even when he was stoned. "You want some tea?"

"Sure. Sounds great." Lip sat down at the table and looked around the room as Sky started the kettle. "Room's a lot neater than mine."

Sky smiled uncertainly, pleased he'd been right. "Really?"

"Yeah."

The kettle started heating up, and Sky leaned against the counter to wait. "Green or black?"

"Whatever you're havin'." Lip looked at him. "How you feelin'?"

"Good."

"You look tired."

"Yeah," he admitted. He kind of liked it, though. The circles under his eyes made him look a little edgier, he thought. And older. Like someone who worked hard. "Wears out my brain a little, I guess. Working on David."

"I bet," Lip said with a nod, studying him with interest. "We're lucky to have you here."

What? Both the interest and the compliment caught Sky off guard. The kettle dinged, and he poured two cups over green tea bags. He set them on the table and sat down across from Lip. "I'm lucky to be here," he replied honestly.

The Australian was wryly amused. "Positive attitude never hurts."

"How's everything today?"

Lip slowly nodded, but his face held a tired, vaguely chagrined expression and Sky felt the echoes of anger and resignation. "Good," he said. "All things considered. Money coming in. Facilities coming up."

That much was obvious, but there was definitely more on Lip's mind than budgets and construction plans. Sky wondered if Lip's weariness had anything to do with Mark's irritable mood. He wondered if he could reach deeper with his Talent and find out. But it wasn't worth the risk of Lip sensing it and feeling invaded.

David had been good practice, but Sky needed more.

Fast. Now.

"Listen, mate, I wanted to talk to you about Jackson Gadamer and his team, if you don't mind."

"Uh," Sky replied stupidly, and shifted his gaze away. "No. I don't mind." He heard himself mumbling, felt his body wanting to squirm. God! Why couldn't he act like a fucking adult? He crossed his arms to keep himself still.

How did Lip know? How did Lip know what he'd been thinking about?

"Relax," Lip said with a rueful laugh. "C'mon, Sky. You're not in trouble."

Sky frowned at the table, forcing himself to try and consider the feelings he could sense from Lip. It was so hard to understand what everything meant.

Lip was unhappy, that was simple enough. But to parse out all the emotions that made up the unhappiness—that was a bewildering mess. The Australian was annoyed, distrustful, angry, protective, sad. Which of those things had to do with Sky?

"Okay," Lip sighed, and Sky's Talent picked up a corresponding flare of weariness. He put an elbow on the table and rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Look. I was hard on you before, I know. Probably more than I had to be. I'm sorry."

Sky shook his head. He didn't exactly blame the older Talent for taking Ken's side. Well, or at least he didn't distrust him over it.

"I need you to know we're on the same side, mate. Maybe it seemed like I was pickin' on you, and yeah, I might've told you to fuck off. But I don't want you to fuck off. I want you here, and I wanna get along with you. Okay?"

After an uncertain pause, Sky said, "Okay."

"So, that said, I came in here to talk to you about Jackson and his team. You're not the only one I'm talkin' to about it. All right? I'm not here to make you feel bad about anything."

"Okay," Sky mumbled, feeling embarrassed on top of his frustration. Lip was exasperated with him. That was clear enough. And he wasn't getting any less exasperated.

Lip put his face in his hands for a moment and then folded his arms on the table to look at Sky with earnest blue eyes. "What's on your mind, mate? Help me out."

Right. Like he could tell Lip what he was thinking about. Like he could share anything he thought about Jackson Gadamer and his team and what was happening to Ken.

He could not.

He'd tried to tell them before. He'd tried to stop them from taking Jin in. He'd told them Jackson and his team were evil, and that they had to keep Ken away from Jin. But they shot him down over and over and over again. _You have no right to tell him what to do_ , they said. _He doesn't have to listen to you. You need to back off._ They'd all made it clear they thought he was just being selfish, or jealous, or dramatic. They thought it was all just a ploy for Ken's attention.

He wasn't stupid enough to try again. They never understood anything he tried to say, or anything he did.

They didn't even know how hard it was to stay clean. They never even asked about it. Maybe they thought he had to be way past heroin by now. Any one of _them_ probably would have been. Never would have been addicted to something in the first place. They didn't understand at all, not even Mark. They were just in a different world.

Why was Lip even asking him for an opinion?

"What about Jackson?" Sky asked finally, although it felt like Lip's impatience was raining down on him.

"I wanna know what you know. Honestly. I've heard from Mark, but I haven't heard it from you. That's my fault, and I wanna fix it now. Better late than never, hey?"

"Why?"

"Well," Lip scrunched his mouth for a thoughtful moment. "Because we're stuck dealin' with them. And..." Reluctance clouded Lip's mood for a moment, but he pressed on. "I know Ken's gotten close to Jin."

Sky stayed carefully still, which was very hard, because the anger and disgust and despair he felt at those words sent a shudder down his spine.

"Go ahead, Sky. Tell me what you're thinkin'. I'm beggin' you, mate, let's get on the same page here."

It was tempting. Did Lip know _how_ close Ken had gotten to Jin? Did he know how far their relationship had gone now?

He felt like he was going to throw up.

Lip sighed quietly. "Can you tell me about the first time you ran into them?"

"Yeah." Whatever. It made no difference. Sky leaned back in his chair and started. "They were working for Takuya Iida when I was living with him. He must have hired them to wipe out a rival clan, or something. I don't know. But Iida loved Jackson. And he used to send me to deliver thanks when he was happy with someone's work. So I went to the hotel where he'd put them up."

He really didn't want to talk about this right now. He really didn't want to talk about Jin. He had to force himself to go on.

"I knew as soon as I got downstairs they were torturing someone." He remembered ordering his own guard to wait while he shot up in the car, unwilling to walk into that field of pain and fear without an extra fix to dull his senses. "It was some yakuza kid. He was standing on the balcony. He'd move like he was going to run, but then he'd stop. It must have been the quiet one, the telekinetic holding him. The kid wasn't bloody or anything. But his pain was so deep, and, like, extreme. The empath was torturing him. And Jin was laughing and egging him on."

The memory creeped him out. It wasn't like Sky had never seen violence like that before. He was a killer himself—sent out as an executioner as often as he was sent as a sex toy. But this violence was something different, something more unsettling.

"They all stopped and looked at me when I came in. They let the kid run toward me and he fell down right at my feet. Crying and begging me for help. He knew my name. I don't know who he was. Or maybe I did. I don't know. I was high."

Lip nodded slowly, his brow creased.

"I could tell they were just like me. Talents, I mean." Fuck, that had scared him. To this day, he'd probably never been as shocked in his life. "Jin came in off the balcony and had me follow him to Jackson's office. He was smiling at me, and I could tell he was reading my mind. I could tell he knew what I was. He didn't say anything, though. Just pushed me into Jackson's room."

He sighed, remembering how unsettled he'd been, the knowledge that these people could easily kill him and his guard, that he was in over his head. The sight of Jackson at his desk, especially, made him sure of that. The man seemed made of pure, brutal power, and despite how calm and polite he was, his eyes had seemed as cold and hard as steel.

Sky continued. "I told him Iida had sent me, out of gratitude for his work, all of that." All of that, and more. Sky never left any room to doubt what his purpose was, what the options were, what special activities were recommended in particular. But Lip didn't need to know that. "He wasn't interested in what Iida sent me for. He asked me some questions about my life."

"Like what?"

"I don't remember." Sky took a deep breath and let it out in a long, tired sigh. "I was high. I'm sorry."

"That's all right, mate," Lip said kindly.

Sky glanced at him, surprised by his tone, and continued. "He was polite. He asked me if there would be any trouble for me if he didn't take advantage of what I came to offer. I said no, but it would please Iida if I could be entertain him or his colleagues for the evening." He clearly recalled Jackson's amusement and felt his lips pull into a thin line. "So he told me to ask Jin if he'd like some company."

"I should have heard this from you sooner," Lip said quietly. There was no exasperation or irritation to be found now, only quiet chagrin. "I'm sorry. Go on."

This was unexpected. Maybe he could talk to Lip, after all. Then again, things had gotten much more serious in the last few days—it was better to be cautious. He couldn't allow things to get out of control again if he ever hoped to deal with what was going on between Jin and Ken. He lifted his cup for a sip of tea before he went on. "Jin took me to his room and asked me about my Talent. I wouldn't tell him anything, but it didn't matter. I could feel him combing my head. I can't remember everything else he talked about. But I spent the night in his room."

Jin. Fucking _Jin_.

His hands were tense and he brought them to his lap, clenching them into fists. Memories were flying through his head. The telepath always left him blown to pieces, satisfied on some deep, primal level no one else had ever reached.

Was it like that for Ken?

Sky got up suddenly and went to the cabinet, needing to turn his back on Lip for a moment. He felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin.

Did the telepath talk to Ken the way he talked to Sky, spitting that perfect venom as his lips and hands worked their terrible magic?

He was going to be sick. He closed his eyes, holding his cup on the counter and desperately trying to appear calm.

Lip's chair scraped softly against the polished concrete floor, and a moment later Sky felt his hand on his shoulder. "Sky," Lip said quietly.

No. He could not look at the other man with tears in his eyes. Jesus, why did he have to be so _weak_? But it was churning inside of him, the abomination of Jin consuming his brother the way he'd consumed Sky, using him and degrading him and fucking up his sense of pleasure and pain and desire and control.

"I hate him," he blurted, knowing he needed to offer some kind of explanation for his current state.

"I know."

Sky reached up and pressed his fingertips to his eyelids, trying to force back the tears underneath.

"You don't have to like him. You don't have to accept him."

"I don't have to accept him," Sky echoed hollowly. Right.

Just accept him fucking around with his brother. That was all he had to do. That was all they wanted of him. To stay out of it, and let Jin pull Ken closer and closer.

A helpless kind of frustration washed over Lip, but it was laced with real sympathy and compassion. Sky wondered if that had always been there and he just hadn't noticed, or if it was something new. "You think we can talk about Ken?" Lip asked quietly, and squeezed Sky's shoulder slightly.

"What about him?"

"Whatever you're thinking about right now."

Of course Lip would guess. He wasn't an idiot. Sky wished he was a hypercognitive, too. Fuck, he'd even settle for average intelligence. He got so tired of feeling like the one idiot among them, the only one who couldn't connect the dots. Heroin was said to kill brain cells, though, and he guessed he was living proof that Talents weren't immune. There was no other explanation for how _stupid_ he was.

"What's goin' on, mate?" Lip asked softly, his voice full of gentle compassion and the promise of support. It was hard to resist. "I'm tryin' to understand all this better. Whatever you're thinkin', I really wanna know. I'm not gonna hang you for it. All right? You're doin' a great job here. You're really doin' a great job. Gimme a chance to understand what you're fightin' with."

This was a trick. Of course Lip knew what to say. He was an expert interrogator, for fuck's sake. Then again, there was no deception in the air. Wouldn't Sky sense it if there were?

But if he told Lip what was really on his mind, Lip would tell the others, and they'd watch him more closely than they already did. They'd be ready to stop him from doing whatever he might have to do.

Then again, such obvious secrecy wasn't going to help him, either. It might be even worse. He was going to have to tell Lip something, at least enough to convince him there were no serious secrets afoot.

"I don't want to talk about my brother's private..." Affairs? Business? Whatever. Sky sighed. "But I know what happens to him, I can't help it. I know when things happen. I can tell if he's in a lot of pain, or if he's...whatever he's feeling."

"All the time?" Lip asked, surprised.

"Not all the time. Sometimes he's too far away, or sometimes it's just quiet. But when something serious happens, I think usually I feel it."

"So something serious happened."

Sky nodded, feeling his jaw clench tight. He closed his eyes again as his stomach turned. Fuck, he didn't want to be this upset about it. "I don't want to feel like this," he said quietly, a little desperately. "I know everyone thinks it's crazy."

"No, they don't. People have different opinions. That's allowed. So are your feelings." He paused. "But they're protective of Ken, first. That's all."

A wave of desperate, painful anger came over him. "No one's ever talked to Jin like they talk to me," he said. "Why am _I_ the threat? Why do I have to stay away from him, but you let him run around with Jin? Even if you think I was bad for him, I've never hurt him like Jin could hurt him, and I'm not tied to Jackson, or KGA. If you're all so _protective_ of him..."

"Fair enough," Lip admitted. "That must drive you fuckin' crazy."

"I don't get it, and it scares me."

"I'm surprised you stay here and go along with it, then."

"What choice do I have?" Sky demanded, turning to look at him at last. At least the tears had dried from his eyes. "It's better than being banished. And at least this way I don't give him any more reasons to hate me."

"No, and he doesn't hate you as it is. I could tell he was impressed this week, when you were helpin' David. And givin' him space. I'm sorry you're sufferin', Sky, but you are doin' a good job. You are doin' more to earn his trust than you ever did before. Doesn't that make you feel any better about this?"

Nothing made him feel better about Jin's lips and hands on his brother's body. He closed his eyes again. "Yes," he lied quietly.

"I'm gonna tell you how I feel about it, okay, mate? And we do disagree on some things, I'll warn you that much. But I'm on your side." He paused for Sky's nod before he continued. "I want a lot of things to be different for Ken. Want him to meet a lot of good people who can teach him good things. I don't want him sleepin' with a killer telepath from KGA." Lip sounded pained. "I don't like this. I think it's too soon for him to get wrapped up in a relationship, for one thing. Ken's tough, and he's sharp, but there's a lot he doesn't know. And Jin's too experienced, too used to bein' a bad guy, too wrapped up in all the shit he comes from. I don't like it. Understand?"

Sky took a deep breath and let it out, nodding. It didn't ease his mind, but he did appreciate that Lip wasn't completely blind.

"Now, I heard what you just told me, and I respect where you're comin' from. But here's where we're different." The Australian paused for a long moment, pursing his lips as he considered his words. "My job," he said slowly, "as Ken's friend, is to watch out for him. But I don't get to force him to make the choices I want him to make. For one thing, it wouldn't work. Ken's wild, and he does what he wants. But also, that's not how you help someone grow up. Okay? There's a margin for mistakes..."

Sky was glad he'd stayed skeptical during this conversation, because the hopeful trust he'd placed in Lip was starting to deflate.

"I know, Sky," Lip said, letting him know he wasn't hiding anything from his face. "You don't agree. That's fine. But I'm tryin' to give you some advice. You've got to start thinking about this on two different levels." He held out his right hand, palm up, like he was holding an apple. "Your disgust for Jin, and the way it makes you feel that this twisted son of a bitch is fuckin' your brother. That he spends all this time with him and you get slapped with a restraining order. I get it, mate. That's gotta be fuckin' hard. But when it comes down to it, that's about _you_. That's about _your_ feelings." He held out the other hand. "And over here, there's real questions, real concerns about Ken. What kind of real danger does this put him in? I'm not talkin' about sex and heartbreak, okay? That's on the feelings side. But is this gonna get him hurt? Is it gonna get him killed?" He paused. "What are Jackson's plans? Is Jin acting on orders? Is this a setup? Do they wanna fuck him over like they tried to fuck you over?"

Sky said nothing, grudgingly persuaded to listen. At least Lip was acknowledging what he'd been saying all this time.

"This is the side you need to focus on. Do not mix these up, Sky. I'm tellin' you, you're fucked if you can't separate these two. If you come at the situation from here," he gestured with the first hand, "Ken'll shut you out before you even open your mouth. I promise you that. As much as it pisses you off to think about him fuckin' Jin, it enrages him to hear you talk about it. I swear to you, mate. I'm beggin' you to trust me on this. You will never win if you can't keep this side to yourself."

Slowly, Sky nodded. It was hard, almost physically hard, to accept this advice—but he was trying to listen to his Talent now, and his Talent had no doubts of Lip's urgency, sincerity, and confidence. They indicated this was the time to put his own convictions aside and entertain another point of view.

"The second side. You need to focus on the second side. And we're here to help you do that. Now all this shit, the real shit, this is where you look out for Ken. And if you do find real cause for alarm, you bring that to him. If you can keep your feelings out of it, he will listen to you. He's worried about this, too, you know. And he's lookin' out for himself. You wanna protect him, you wanna win him over—well, I can't promise you can win him over, 'cause he's a mean little shit. But this is the best chance you have. You understand what I'm tryin' to say?"

Sky nodded again. He did. He did get it. It was kind of blowing his mind, the simple brilliance of it.

"That said," Lip said, clearly hopeful that he was getting through. "The feelings side is somethin', you know, I'm here for you if you need to talk about it. If you're strugglin' with knowin' this evil mindfucker is messin' around with your brother. But you gotta understand: We cannot tell Ken who to like, who to sleep with. I'm not makin' that mistake and losin' his trust. 'Cause we need that trust if we wanna step in when it really counts. You with me?"

"And what about the other stuff?"

"I want to know everything," Lip said without hesitation. "Every little thing you sense, every thing you think, every theory. I want to know. Ken's doin' his part—he's keepin' his mind locked down, his eye on the exits. And we're findin' out everything we can."

There was a long silence. Sky drank his tea, trying to consider everything Lip had said.

"Okay," Sky said at last. "Thank you. I understand what you're saying. I'll try to think of it that way from now on."

Lip gave a long, soft sigh, and relief settled over him quietly. "Fuck," he said. "Then you made my day."

"There's something else I need to talk about."

"What's that?"

"My Talent."

Lip nodded slowly. "Yeah?"

"Um. After last week with David, I've been thinking. I need to train, and see if I can do other things. Or do things better. I don't really know how. But I was hoping maybe, if you don't mind, or if someone doesn't mind...I could test some things out."

"Absolutely," Lip said, and to Sky's surprise he seemed very pleased. "When should we start?"

#  9. Telepaths Need Friends

Jin pulled off onto the shoulder of the highway and turned off the car, sitting back with a sigh. He propped his elbow on the door and buried his forehead in his hand, closing his eyes tiredly.

The clamor of the city was finally out of range. Christ, he was staying right where he was for a while. He blew out a slow breath, massaging just below his eyebrows with his fingertips and thumb. His head was killing him. If it got any worse, he was going to have to score some dope or steal some pills to knock himself out for a while. Jackson wouldn't like it, but it was his own fucking fault for sending him into Jen's head and then skipping town.

Of course, there was no reason to go all Junkie Sky when Ken was in town. Obviously Jin preferred the cool, silent oasis of Ken's shields to the dumb, impotent sleep of opiates.

When he was ready, when he'd rested a bit, he'd turn the car around and dash through town, straight to Ken's bedroom. Ken would let him stay, he was sure. Clearly he accepted that the white noise of his head helped shield Jin from the general clamor of other minds. Ken wasn't nearly the asshole he made himself out to be. He'd been concerned about Jin's condition.

All right, maybe concerned was a strong word. But he'd been willing to help. At least, one could interpret it that way.

Jin shoved the heel of his hand against his temple, exhaling slowly and trying to conjure up something to distract himself from the migraine. Ken's face, obviously. He sketched the image in his mind as Jackson had taught him, as though assembling a photorealistic painting with a tiny mental brush. He pictured the locks of hair falling around his forehead, the thick eyelashes, the folds of his eyelids, and was getting to his knife's edge cheekbones by the time the pain caught up to him again.

Fuck, this sucked, and sooner or later a car was going to come along. He was already dreading the shriek of the driver's thoughts. Shit. Maybe he couldn't even make it back into the city. Maybe he could make Ken come to him.

Fucking Jackson. Son of a bitch. He dialed the motherfucker up.

"Jackson," he said sharply over his leader's greeting. "How the hell are you?"

"You left the city."

"I did," Jin confirmed with a manic sort of casualness. "I sure did."

"That makes things rather difficult for you, doesn't it?"

"Do you think so, Jackson?"

"Do you think you can convince Ken to stop whatever he is doing to come and find you?"

"I need another plan."

"If only you'd thought twice before moving away from him in spite of my explicit instructions to seek his company."

"What was I supposed to do?" Jin hissed. "Throw my arms around his ankles?"

"Spare me the details."

"Dammit, Jackson, you—" Patronizing son of a bitch. He stopped himself. It wasn't bad enough to cross that line with Jackson. Not yet. "How are things?"

"Busy, Jin."

Jin sighed, closing his eyes. If he focused, really focused, maybe he could get some kind of relief from Jackson's voice alone. But the man was being such a prick, and Jin couldn't help giving it right back. It was a reflex. "How's _Jen_?"

"Ah. I gather Giovanni told you that she and I have been intimate."

"Intimate." Barf. Fucking square. "If she chops off your dick I won't want you anymore."

"Your horrible attitude can't do anything to help your migraine."

"Jackson, you know I can't fucking think straight," Jin said sharply, too agitated to lower his voice. "I didn't call you to jerk off. How am I supposed to get him to meet me?"

"You can't. He would think it's a trap. You will have to go to him. And you will have to stay with him."

Jin moaned, covering his eyes with his hand. Even the moonlight was too bright for him. "For how long?" He didn't ask out of any sort of reluctance to hole up in a room with Ken. More like he didn't know how long he could force the kid to keep him company.

"At least two days. Stay in the spare room."

"Son of a bitch, Jackson. Can't I just come to you?"

"No. I'm busy and you need the quiet immediately, Jin. Don't try to pretend otherwise."

Jin's temper suddenly flared. "Fuck me. You knew her head would be a fucking meat grinder. What the hell is this about? You have me hobbling around the fucking stupid city like a lame-ass while KGA is closing in—this is bullshit. What the _fuck_ , Jackson?"

"I've told you what you need to do. And I told you I've cut you out of our business for the time being. I'm not going to repeat myself."

Jin took the phone from his ear, gripping it in his fist and fighting the urge to smash it on the steering wheel. He gritted his teeth until the urge passed, brought it back to his ear, and growled, "Fine. Glad you know what the fuck's going on."

He hung up without waiting for a reply, threw the phone onto the passenger's seat, and started the car, cranking up the volume of the radio without even caring to choose the station. The driving drumbeat of the heavy rock channel was like an army of sledgehammers on his migraine, but it would help some to distract him when he got closer to the population of the city and felt millions of thoughts sliding into his brain like needles.

Goddammit. Only one way to do it. He pulled out onto the road and steadily accelerated. It was a race against insanity. As soon as he got within range of the city, the mental noise assaulted his bruised Talent. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and he tore down the road with no concern for speed limits. When a cop car flashed its lights and took pursuit, there was nothing he could do about it. He wasn't going to waste a single precious drop of effort to throw the pigs off his trail.

By the time he reached Aki and Ken, there were two cop cars trailing him. He pulled the car right up to the front deck of the house, jumped out, and dashed past a startled Aki for the safety inside.

"Get rid of these shitheads," Jin called as three cops burst through the door after him, shouting stupid orders.

"Are you—Jesus," Aki muttered, holding up his hands with a scowl when one officer stopped and shouted at him to get on the floor.

Jin hated to miss the yakuza prince humbling himself for the LAPD, but he made a beeline for Ken's room. He managed to throw Ken's door open just before one of the cops tackled him.

Ken was sitting on the bed with a book, and lifted his head to stare. Seeing the cops, his lips parted in shock.

"On the ground," one of the officers shouted at Ken, who only scowled, incredulous.

"Fascist pigs!" Jin shouted as the other cop cinched cuffs onto his wrists. "I know my rights!" High-stress situations always brought out a sort of demonic glee in him, and being handcuffed by an actual American cop on the threshold of Ken's bedroom was actually too hilarious to deal with.

The blare of the city's minds had brought him so close to a total meltdown he was only slightly cognizant of how his Talent was sucked up against the smooth, placid surface of Ken's shields, but within moments his racing heartbeat began to settle down. In a few more minutes he'd be able to muster up enough strength to get the cops out of their hair. But not yet.

"You better not touch him," he tried to warn the two officers, who were pointing guns at Ken and ordering him to put his hands behind his head.

Ken started to get off of the bed, and one of the officers grabbed for him. But Ken was fast as hell. Within seconds the officer's gun was in his hands, and he was aiming at the one who had a foot on Jin's back.

"Drop the weapon!" the other cop shouted, his own gun fixed on Ken. "Drop the weapon!"

"You," Ken replied, glowering.

"Dammit," Jin muttered, and squeezed his eyes shut to enter the armed cop's mind. It fucking hurt, and he felt that faint, sickening pop in his head that preceded a torrent of blood from his nose. But the cop lowered his gun and began backing out of the room, followed by his partner. They moved like sleepwalkers at first, and then picked up the pace as Jin convinced them they needed to get out _now._

His brain was screaming from the effort, but he got the one holding Aki in the kitchen to head for his car, as well, and he got them to pull away from the house. God, it felt like his fucking brain was coming out of his nose. The hardest part was scrubbing their minds clean of the past ten minutes as they drove away. Jin heard a crackling in his ears when he finally pulled it off, and then everything went dark.

\- - -

Ken watched the last of the cops leave and cast a troubled glance toward where Jin lay face down, handcuffed and panting in his own blood.

Aki appeared in the doorway with an exasperated look on his face, and immediately dropped to his knees beside Jin. "What just happened?"

David finally showed up. He leaned against the doorframe almost casually, taking in the scene with his hands in his pockets.

"I don't know," Ken said. Jin made a soft, pained sound, and Ken sort of flinched. He didn't know why.

Aki hooked a finger in the chain of the handcuffs and sighed heavily. "Great," he muttered. "You couldn't have them undo these first?" When there was no response, he frowned. "Jin?"

Ken watched as Aki rolled the telepath to his side. Jin's face was soaked in blood, and his eyelids were fluttering. Aki shook his head, bewildered, and looked questioningly at Ken.

Was he supposed to know? Ken held out his hands, shaking his head helplessly, and looked at David.

"Call Jackson," David said without emotion.

Another soft, involuntary noise came from the telepath, and without thinking about it, Ken stepped forward. Kneeling beside Aki, he slipped his hands under Jin's head to cradle it slightly above the floor. The blood was sticky on his fingers.

"Phone?"

"Wait," Ken interrupted Aki. "Just a minute." He'd done this before, hadn't he? When Sky left Aki's mind all fucked up, he'd stroked his head and felt it get better. He smoothed the hair back from Jin's temple with an awkward gentleness and bowed closer to his ear, whispering, "Jin."

Now that he was aware of what he was trying to do, he could feel the subtle workings of his Talent. What Talent, though? He didn't know. He hadn't heard of anyone else doing this. He knew Jin had been intrigued when he'd done it to Aki. But he could feel it, sort of like when he healed wounds with his hands, but much less tangible.

Jin's eyelids stopped fluttering and his breath evened out. After a moment he moved his arms and winced, like he'd forgotten the handcuffs. Then he let out a soft breath and turned his face into Ken's hands, brushing his open lips against his palm.

Ken froze, then hurriedly laid Jin's head back down and stood up, backing away. His cheeks were hot. Glancing up at David, he found the green-eyed twin looking at him with interest. Dammit.

"Is he okay?" Aki asked.

"I think so," Ken muttered.

"Idiot." Aki sighed. "Cops. Seriously?" He rose to his feet, rolling his eyes. "Made a mess, too. David, can you pick these cuffs?"

David shrugged. Somehow he managed to look both curious and apathetic.

Aki reached down and lifted Jin's dead weight, hooking his body over an arm like it weighed no more than a blanket. "Ken, why don't you clean him up in case you need to do more of whatever you did. You mind? I'll get this taken care of."

Ken followed Aki, though he wasn't happy about it. Aki sat Jin on the floor beside the sink, propping his back against the cabinet, and ruffled Ken's hair before going back into the room.

Whatever. Ken got a towel wet and crouched in front of Jin to clean the blood from his face.

The telepath mumbled something unintelligible and fell forward.

Pushed off-balance, Ken landed lightly on his ass with Jin's face on his stomach, printing a bloody mark into his shirt. "Quit," he grumbled, roughly pushing Jin up by the shoulders and continuing to clean his face.

Jin's eyelids fluttered slightly, then opened halfway. He slowly focused on Ken, and, absurdly, a smile crept onto his lips.

"What's your problem?" Ken muttered. "Bringing cops in here?"

"Sorry," Jin said, but didn't stop smiling. "They were trying to get between us."

Ken scowled and got to his feet, feeling a little satisfaction when he saw Jin try to reach out and fail because of the cuffs.

"Undo these," Jin whined after him.

Aki looked up from polishing the teak floor. "He's talking?" He stood up and went straight for the bathroom.

Ken couldn't help but follow him back in. David joined at a distance, wearing the same mildly curious, mostly apathetic look.

"What the hell?" Aki demanded, standing in front of Jin and crossing his arms, and when Jin shook his arms and shoulders impatiently, Aki said, "I didn't cuff you. What do you want me to do about it?"

"How many fuckin' Talents does it take to pick a lock?" Realizing Aki was in no hurry, Jin gave a dramatic sigh and roll of his eyes. "Okay, fine, you ready, chief? My Talent's all fucked up, so I have to hang out with this one—" he jerked his head toward Ken without looking at him. "—because his head gives me a quiet space to heal. But to get to him I had to drive through the city, which is like running through razor wire at this point, so I broke some speed limits to get it over with. Okay?"

"You couldn't throw the cops off?"

"I didn't have time to lose them, and I didn't have enough energy to burn 'til I got back here." He jerked his head at Ken again.

Ken stared at Aki, because he was aghast and did not know where else to look. What the hell was Jin saying? Was it that bad? Was he seriously saying he needed Ken that bad?

"And the nosebleed, and whatever that was?" Aki asked, his brow furrowed in a way that told Ken he was caught off guard, too.

"Like I said, my Talent's bruised. The effort knocked me out for a second."

"Did you take care of it or are there gonna be more cops?"

"I took care of it, _dad_."

Aki looked at Ken at last, showing his irritation, and Ken rolled his eyes in return.

"Hey!" Jin demanded, shaking his shoulders again. "Get these off."

"You can't get them off yourself?" Aki asked dryly. "That's your kryptonite? Handcuffs?"

Jin sneered. "Funny, rice cake."

"Do you think that makes me mad or do you actually like racist jokes?"

"Are you too dumb to pick a lock or is this turning you on?"

Aki made a face. "So you want to stay here?"

"Jesus fuck, do I need your permission, _goshuujinsama_?"

"Just wait," Aki sighed, and turned to Ken. "Come outside for a minute."

"You're an asshole," Jin said simply. "And I'm serious. Ken!"

Ken paused on his way to the door, looking back at the sudden urgency in Jin's voice.

"Don't go." The telepath's blue eyes burned into his, completely sober. "Please. I'm serious."

Ken glared at him, feeling oddly embarrassed, and rolled his eyes before he left the room.

In the hallway, David leaned against the wall a few feet away to listen as Aki's dark eyes landed on Ken's.

"Are you okay with this?" Aki asked.

"It's fine," Ken muttered grudgingly, though he felt like he was admitting a lot with those two small words.

"Is he serious about his head?"

"Yes." There was no question Jin's mind was injured. He'd felt it himself, and he couldn't deny it, even if he couldn't explain it. "I think it's...true. That my head is quiet. And it helps."

Behind Aki, David suddenly grinned. Ken looked at him in surprise, causing Aki to turn as well.

David shrugged. "Just thinkin' it's a good deal. Wanker's crush is his only cure. Good deal for 'im, innit?" With that he turned and walked off toward the living room.

That was some smile, Ken thought, blinking after him. It was like the whole hallway had lit up for a second.

"He's getting so much better," Aki murmured once he'd gone, staring down the hallway in astonishment, and then turned back to Ken. "Okay. Ken, we need to talk about this later."

"Why?"

"Because it's weird."

Ken grimaced and rolled his head back, deeply annoyed by everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes. He felt strangely guilty for not telling Aki that he'd started messing around with Jin, not that it was any of his business. The thing was, it probably would be. Once Sky found out... "I know," he grumbled at last.

"Later. For now, I don't know." Aki shrugged. "We don't have to unlock him, though." The amusement he was getting out of Jin in handcuffs was sort of irresistible. Ken was starting to feel like Jin and Aki only pretended not to get along. If Aki hated Jin, he wouldn't enjoy needling him so much.

When Ken returned Jin was perched on the edge of the bed. His white tee shirt was dirty with blood, and there was a streak on his cheek Ken had missed. His skin was pale, his eyes shaded in tired blue, and he looked exhausted. His hands were still cuffed behind his back.

Ken grimaced. "You still haven't gotten those off?"

"And have you catch me digging through your shit for something to pick them?"

Ken suddenly got that weird, comfortable feeling again. He shook his head and went to the dresser, retrieving a watch he rarely wore and glancing at the buckle to make sure the little pin would work. Then he climbed onto the bed behind Jin, and a moment later the first cuff popped open.

"You're good at that," Jin said, surprised, though Ken didn't know why that should surprise him unless he was an idiot. Or thought _he_ was an idiot. Like he'd never worked his way out of a lock in his life?

When the second cuff came off, Jin groaned and stood up to stretch his shoulders. "Tonight's been a piece of shit. Order some pizzas, would you?"

The comfortable feeling disappeared. Ken wondered if it was normal to go back and forth so fast. Probably not. All he knew was he suddenly felt so weary he couldn't even care about hiding it. Sighing heavily, he asked, "What if I don't want to hang out with you?"

The telepath laughed as if Ken had just surprised him with a good joke.

Ken narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Are you saying there's ever been a time when you actually _did_ wanna hang out with me?"

Ken scoffed reflexively. "No."

"Then what's the difference?" Jin peeled off his shirt. For one ridiculous moment Ken thought he meant to have sex right then, but Jin was just wadding up the bloodstained cloth with a grimace, like sex was the last thing on his mind.

Now it was on Ken's, though, the sight of Jin's bare, slim, hard-muscled torso bringing back rapid-fire flashbacks from the night before.

God fucking dammit.

"Food," Jin said again, heading for the shower. "Lots of food."

The door shut behind him. Goddammit.

God. Damn. It.

Ken looked at the door leading to the hallway. David and Aki were probably in the living room, watching TV. Maybe smoking or drinking beer. Being interesting. Being fun, maybe, the way they were starting to act.

The shower started running. Ken looked at the bathroom door. Jin was in there, taking off his clothes, probably plotting something, probably smirking.

"Goddammit," Ken muttered, and stood up.

#  10. Trust

Sex with Jackson Gadamer was different.

Not cold, exactly, but calculated. Not passionate, but powerful.

Not emotional in the slightest. But very effective.

Early evening shadows filled the master bedroom of Jackson's sleek Los Angeles hideout, where he was seated on the edge of his king bed with Jen's legs around his hips, driving his cock up into her in steady, forceful thrusts. Even in the midst of his exertion his hazel eyes were focused and intent. Clearly he was not the type to come undone for a stranger.

That was fine. She didn't want him to. She liked it like this, a focused act, skillfully executed to fulfill a basic need. She liked that he didn't seem particularly moved by her. His detachment wasn't something she'd ever thought she wanted, but it was exactly what she needed now.

It was nothing like Mark.

Mark. This had to be killing him. God, but she'd put him through worse—him, and all the rest. It was incredibly difficult to accept that any of it had really happened, that it hadn't been one long, horrible hallucination. It was impossible to make sense of the fact that she'd turned on the only people she'd ever cared about.

But she had. And then taken aim at people _they_ cared about. Terrorized them. Tortured.

Killed.

_How_ could she have done it? And how could she live with it? Luke O'Reilly, of all people. Dylan's younger brother, for God's sake. Jesus, if _only_ it were a nightmare. If only she couldn't remember those gentle, weary eyes...

No. She couldn't think of him. Not now. Not yet.

In fact, Jackson had forbidden it.

"Fuck," she breathed as she rode his lap. Jackson was _good_ —his body a perfect machine, his long, thick cock filling her tight with each powerful stroke. And he was startlingly handsome, with strong, steely features that complemented his aura of authority. It was like fucking a king.

As he held her gaze, the corners of his lips turned up in a cool, knowing smile that was utterly riveting.

She moaned sharply, her orgasm bearing down on her with sudden force. The spasms were electrifying.

There wasn't much to his climax. A tightening of his muscles, a sharp breath, a quiet groan. No, Jackson Gadamer did not come undone for her. She wondered if he did for anyone.

Jen slowly relaxed and slid from his thighs to rest on the mattress, shivering at the ache he left behind. "Thanks," she breathed, satisfied.

Jackson seemed amused. "My pleasure." He put a hand on her knee in a genial way, and then smoothly left the room for a shower.

Jen pushed her hair back from her forehead and sank back into the pillows, savoring the moment of contentment that followed a bout of good sex.

When Jackson picked her up at ARSI she had been on the brink of the abyss, doomed to fall back in at any second. But then he walked into that little ARSI building, pulled a chair next to hers, and looked into her eyes. The first thing he said was, "Focus on me."

Jackson's mind was silent, impenetrable, with an aura she could only describe as hypnotic. It was like falling under a spell. Almost at once, her telepathy quieted, her empathy faded, and she heard her own thoughts clearly for the first time in years.

Only then did he introduce himself. She didn't even care. She was sold.

Since then he'd been working with her every day, teaching her visualization techniques to build up the mental architecture they called psychostructure. The empath Giovanni sat in on these sessions, stabilizing her mood and cutting back the paranoia and despair that had fueled her madness. It baffled her how well it worked, and how casual they were about it. Giovanni seemed bored. Jackson had the cool confidence of a teacher who had covered the material many times before.

To think of all the years she'd _rotted_ for lack of this kind of training. If only, if _only_ she had known...

The afterglow of sex had worn off. Jen swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and crossed the spacious bedroom to the master bathroom. Like the rest of the house, it was quietly luxurious: dark wooden walls, cool stone fixtures, and a glass wall looking out over the ocean cliffs.

Jackson was leaning back against the counter with a white towel around his hips, hair damp and muscles glistening, checking his phone. The man never stopped working. There was no rest for insurgents.

Jen walked past him to the far corner of the room, where the open shower was set before the glass. This early in the night she could still make out the dark line of the ocean against the sky. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back under the spray.

"Tell me, Jen," Jackson said. "What was your impression of Ken?"

Jen had wondered when he would ask about Ken. Smoothing her wet hair back, she considered the question.

"I only sensed him at first," she said slowly. "I was creeping closer to Paris, thinking I'd try to get Mark to help me die. But when I reached out and felt for him and the others, I sensed someone new. Except I couldn't feel out any details. It was almost like a blank space, or a shadow."

Jackson watched her calmly, as if they discussed this sort of thing all the time, as if he was used to seeing her shower.

"I don't know how to explain it, but my Talent felt..." she trailed off, searching for the right words. "It felt _dangerous_ to me—to my Talent. It was like this weird instinctive feeling that whatever it was could kill me. That's all I ever sensed, really. I caught a glimpse of him from Aki, before he shut down. But that was it."

That glimpse hit her like a bullet. Bone pale, sharp as diamonds. Green eyes. Needles and shrapnel. Fierce. Pure. This was the way Aki saw him, and Aki's love, she knew, was the honest kind.

She turned off the water and wrung out her hair, frowning faintly. "You have plans for him, I gather."

"Plans?" Jackson passed her one of the soft white towels stacked neatly on the stone counter. "That's a complicated word."

"Is it?" Jen asked bemusedly, wrapping the towel around her body and leaning back against the counter beside him. "I wonder a lot about your plans."

"I should imagine so." He set his phone aside and crossed his arms.

Jen let her eyes roam idly over his naked muscles, because they were there, and they were nice to look at. "How does this factor into your agenda?" she asked. "Fucking me?"

Jackson's brow arched just slightly. "Are you certain that it does?"

"Pretty certain," she said drily. "You're a precognitive. You're a fugitive. You have three Talents on your team, and you've declared war on an army of, what? Six hundred psychics?"

"Roughly."

"You don't exactly have time for idle pursuits. So, yeah, you must have a motive for fucking me. You must have a motive for everything you do."

"In a way." Jackson gave a slow, contemplative nod. "My Talent shows me the potential consequences of each course of action. So it's accurate to say I make educated choices."

"Mm-hm." Jen crossed her arms loosely, only realizing a moment later that she was mirroring his posture. "And what does sex have to do with overthrowing KGA?"

"It's more than a game of cause and effect. The future is the product of countless minute variables."

"I get it. But surely you can offer some explanation of the choices you make."

Jackson seemed perfectly at ease with her questions—perhaps even pleased with them. "I could, yes," he replied, studying her just as she was studying him. "But the telling alone could change the future. Your perspective could shift. Your behavior could change. And then I'd have to re-evaluate everything. Some events are inevitable; some are not. One detail might change the whole picture, or it might make no difference at all. At any rate, my Talent is most useful when I keep my visions to myself."

"Then they follow you blindly. Jin, Giovanni and Rinzen."

"They trust me. And not without reason."

"No, not without reason. You're very good with people."

"I'd prefer to say that I'm consistent."

"There's more to it than that, Jackson," Jen said evenly. "Consistency has nothing to do with the way you played Lip and the others. You just put them in a position where they had no choice but to give you what you wanted."

"Is that how you see it?" Jackson smiled slightly.

"They'll figure out it was you, Jackson. And they won't like it. Especially not how you set that poor kid up to take the blame."

"And what do you think they'll do?" Jackson raised his eyebrows. "Take you back?"

Jen chewed her lip for a moment. "No," she said at last. "Of course not. But they'll kick your telepath out."

"And leave Ken without a tutor?"

"If they think he's your spy..."

"Jin's not my spy. But it doesn't matter. They know how dangerous psychic Talent can be without guidance, and they know that Ken's Talent may be more powerful than yours. So as long as Jin does no harm, they'll tolerate him, because Ken is likely to need his help again."

Jen's frown deepened as he spoke. "All right," she said. "As I said. They've got no choice but to do exactly what you want them to do."

"They have other choices, Jennifer. I have choices, as well. I choose to make the best of what I foresee, and that includes taking advantage of what I know others will do. You might consider that nefarious, but it's the only reasonable way for a precognitive to behave."

"Sounds like you're in a perfect position to manipulate people."

"Well, yes." Jackson laughed, a surprisingly genuine sound. "I am."

Jesus.

"But I didn't bring you here to manipulate you. I have no intention of harming your friends. They're not a threat to me. It's as simple as that." Jackson straightened from the counter. "I'll be tied up this evening. Relax. If you lose control of your mood, Giovanni is here to stabilize you."

"Thank you, Jackson."

"You're welcome. And Jen." Jackson paused in the doorway. "I have _four_ Talents on my team. And I happen to enjoy fucking you."

She let out a puff of laughter, caught off guard, and watched him disappear.

Yes, she understood how he had won his Talents over. He had already won her, too. Clearly Jackson had a knack for winning.

Would he win this? The war against KGA? Jen had no reason not to think so. And she _wanted_ to think so. She would have supported almost any cause at his request, just to stay near him and keep hold of her sanity. But taking down KGA was a goal she could get behind. Every Talent alive would be better off for it. And after all the damage she and her Talent had done to Mark, Kel, Lip and all the rest, why not turn it toward something that would help them?

Not that it would ever make up for the things she'd done. Not that it would ever undo the things she'd done to Luke, or make her forget the broken look on his face in those last moments before she snuffed out his soul...

No. She couldn't. She couldn't think of it. Not now. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Jen sagged against the counter, with a long, tense sigh. Not a minute alone, and already shame and misery were darkening the edges of her mind.

Across the house, Giovanni's empathy picked up her disquiet. The Italian gave her a mental nudge in his cool, apathetic way, and she opened her mind to let him soothe the demons before they could really start to hum.

At least she was here now. At least it was under control.

\- - -

Jackson had a pounding headache, but his mood wasn't bad. Since Jen had moved in, he'd had floods of visions every evening, and none of them was discouraging.

The redheaded Talent had been easy to draft. Jackson did not have to win her trust on the same personal level as he had with Jin, Giovanni, and Rinzen. He only had to prove that he could help her tame her mind. Simple enough.

There was nothing complicated about Jen's problems. She was incredibly powerful, with a cacophonous combination of abilities, no training, and no understanding of psychostructure. Without guidance, she had been fated to self-destruct.

Jackson liked her. She was easy to work with, well mannered and professional. Civilized. Nothing like Jin or Giovanni—or Rinzen, for that matter. Of course, such comparisons were absurd. Jen had enjoyed a fairly typical childhood, apart from being an orphan, and was a capable adult by the time her psychic Talents began to manifest.

Jackson's subordinates had enjoyed no such luxuries. Their stories were far more typical. Jin, Vanni and Rin had all begun showing their abilities at the onset of puberty, and had been ostracized as a result. Though Jackson had managed to draft Vanni and Rin directly, sparing them KGA's initiations, their young lives had not been easy. And Jin, who was swept up by KGA when he was all of twelve years old, had had it worst of all.

For over half a century, the Klaus Gadamer Academy had maintained a stranglehold on the world's Talents. Before Jackson's grandfather founded the organization in the 1950s, Talents were the stuff of rumor and superstition. Klaus Gadamer, an esteemed scientist and a precognitive himself, was merely the first man to be born in the right place, at the right time, to harness the growing phenomenon of human evolution. But his scientific interest in Talent was inextricable from his drive for power and profit. KGA was a nefarious venture from the start.

Jackson had never met his grandfather, but had read enough of KGA's history to know that the man had been a master manipulator with ruthless ambitions. Once Klaus found a few psychics, his power quickly snowballed. He had no trouble playing empaths and telepaths against each other to secure their obedience, and trained them to go out and find others like them to draft. Thus KGA cornered the market.

But KGA's brutality in handling its Talents, its reliance on brainwashing and blind obedience, its abhorrent industrialization of female Talents, and, most recently, its adoption of Strauss's Trigger Method were all proof of its shortsighted, archaic, and ultimately self-sabotaging worldview. Jackson's blood ran cold when he thought of all the potential KGA had squandered, the Talents who consistently burned out in their early twenties when they should have bloomed ever brighter for decades.

The rogue Talents Jin had found in Paris were living proof of what Jackson had known all along. Mark, Lip, Kel, Jen, the Irish boys, Aki, and of course, Ken—their hybrid Talents so exquisitely varied, all having had the freedom to adapt naturally to their particular circumstances, to bond with one another and trade on their strengths.

At KGA, it was unheard of for a physical Talent to develop the ability to read unshielded minds, or indeed, for any Talent of one type to suddenly, at a later point, manifest an ability of a completely different class. Yet these rogue Talents had all done these things, to some degree, along with other feats, such as learning to share one another's shields to collectively protect themselves from detection. Jackson even suspected that they might have absorbed certain abilities from one another, though that would require dedicated research to confirm.

To think that had any of these rogue Talents been picked up by KGA, their wings would have been clipped at once. How much Talent had been wasted within those walls? How much power had been extinguished for the sake of their fascistic operations?

That would all be over soon. Soon, those atrocities would be no more. Soon, Jackson would be at the helm, making a hard turn in a new direction.

After his phone call, he rose from his desk and went quietly to the lounge area near the kitchen to pour himself a scotch. He took it back to his office, ready for a few undisturbed moments.

Jen was right. Sleeping with her did have important consequences. But none that required her understanding.

Jackson stared down into his drink, slowly swirling the amber liquid around in the glass.

There was no joy in pushing Jin away.

But Jackson was a precognitive. No one detail could be considered without all of its reverberations. And he had to clear the way for Jin and Ken. Without the two of them, without their relationship, Jackson's plan would fail. Though all the parts were important, none was as essential as this.

Jen's magnificent hybrid Talent would be an important diversion when the time came to take down KGA. Mark, Lip and Kel would provide the technical resources and security they needed in preparation. Sky had played an essential role both in driving Ken and Jin closer together, and waking up Jen and David. David was helping to temper what had for a while been Aki's hyper-vigilant obsession with Ken's safety. Jackson had no direct use for Dylan, but no matter. They were all contributing to the machine that was in motion. Yet none of them was exclusively essential.

Ken was essential. Jin was essential. Their growing bond, most of all, was essential.

Jackson sipped his drink and leaned back in his chair, focusing on the desk. He never allowed his eyes to lose focus unless he wanted to invite a vision.

The prophecy he followed, the prophecy of KGA's destruction, was not all to his liking. Though it was close to a perfect vision, densely threaded with bold streaks of inevitability, there were parts he did not relish. They were parts he'd committed to long before he met his team.

In keeping with Jackson's code, they would all be informed of those parts, when the time was right. Even Jin.

Even Jin.

Jackson shook his head. That was the closest he ever got to such dangerous trains of thought. For a precognitive, he was already far too invested in the outcomes and consequences as they affected those around him. Allowing moments of quiet such as these to cloud his judgment would be fatal to his plans, and likely to those now involved.

He swallowed the rest of his drink. It satisfied him, but the bitter taste was vivid on his tongue.

#  11. Sky Gets a Little, a Little Late

It was almost noon when Sky woke up at Dylan's house, and the first thing he thought about was heroin.

Why was it so easy to slide backward?

He cracked his gray-blue eyes, looking across the white pillow and around the unfamiliar bedroom. That was what it was, he realized blandly. It was the strange bed, the strange bedroom, lying down in the house of an older stranger. All the little details, the new scents and sounds and temperatures, were like tiny triggers, each of them. That was why, for a second, his brain just clicked back into the place it always used to be in, when his whole life was sleeping until noon and lying in the beds of older strangers.

That wasn't even the situation, now, though. Dylan wasn't a stranger. And he wasn't that much older. Probably not any older than Mark, who was, what, thirty? Sky didn't even know, which was no surprise. Talents all looked the same age once they hit their mid-twenties or so. Of course, Sky had fucked the guy for months, so he might have thought to ask. But he didn't.

Sitting up slowly, he sighed and rubbed his eyes. Anyway, no more of that.

Those weeks under Mark's wing at ARSI had been good, for the most part. Sky had gotten some training, made some friends, even learned some things in the research departments, about science and anatomy and genetics and stuff. And he'd had a good time with Mark, who was basically the only one of the Talents Sky could believe actually liked him. Mark was also the hottest, if he had to choose. And the sex had been spectacular.

But Mark had his own shit to deal with now. Of course, he always had, but ever since Jen had come back to life, it had gotten more oppressive. The last thing he needed was Sky hanging all over him, sucking up his attention. Which was, Sky knew, the real reason why Lip had suggested Sky leave ARSI and stay with Dylan.

Of course, that wasn't what Lip _said_. The infuriatingly affable Australian made it sound like this was all for Sky's own good, like he and Kel were worried about him being affected by Mark's darkening mood, about him being an empath.

They weren't wrong. It had gotten harder to keep his emotions in check since he'd felt Mark's own mood turning to nihilistic melancholy and self-loathing. But he couldn't believe Lip and Kel weren't relieved to have an excuse to send him away. The Australian had never liked him anyway, despite how hard he tried to pretend he did. It was a convincing act, at least. Sky appreciated the effort.

Anyway, it was fine. Sky had wanted to move out of ARSI anyway, closer to Los Angeles. As close as he could get. And sharing a house with Dylan, who wasn't on the closest terms with the more influential Talents at the moment, didn't bother him at all.

Downstairs, he found Dylan chopping fruit in the open kitchen. As always, the Irishman's looks caught him off guard. Tall, pale and wiry, Dylan had an unforgettable kind of beauty, all mesmerizing extremes, from his wild black hair and gaunt face to his full, sensual mouth and large, emerald-green eyes.

Those eyes landed on Sky at once, and then Dylan unleashed a smile that was...radiant didn't even cover it. It was the kind of smile that made a person feel special. Even Sky felt it. No wonder Mark had gone for Dylan.

"Mornin', lad," Dylan said in his strange Irish lilt. "Like some fruit?"

"Um." Sky was still dumbfounded by the smile. "Yes, yeah. Thank you."

"That accent always surprises me." Dylan gestured with his knife toward one of the chairs on the other side of the counter where he was hacking a pineapple into chunks.

"My accent? Oh." It was odd, he supposed, for a former yakuza consort and recovering junkie to speak like a posh Londoner.

"Yeah, dunno why, but I always expect an American accent from you. S'good though, I like it. Coffee?"

"Please." He'd never liked coffee, but maybe he would this time. He was trying to be normal and friendly. "It's funny, um, I learned English from this, like, really weird old tutor. And she taught me this old, you know, stereotypical old accent. I didn't know until I left Japan, and had to kind of unteach myself."

"Stereotypical?" Dylan set a carton of milk and a pot of sugar before him, then the mug of coffee. "Like the old BBC shit?"

"Yeah, I guess." Sky stirred in some of each until it looked palatable. "Like an aristocrat from, like, ninety years ago."

"Brilliant." Dylan laughed. "I'm the opposite. Nobody could understand me at first. Said I sounded like that fuckin' Brad Pitt movie where he's a traveler, an Irish traveler. Dunno, I probably did. Not exactly from Dublin, y'know. Toned it down 'cause I got sick of Lip screwin' up his face goin', ' _Reh-peet that, mite_?'"

Sky laughed quietly and watched him dump the pineapple chunks into a large bowl full of other diced-up fruits, vaguely confused. Dylan had been so miserable before. But now he was verging on sunny. Sky tried to read him more closely, trying to see if it was all some kind of act, but it didn't feel like it. "Thanks for letting me stay here."

"My pleasure, believe me. Can't fuckin' stand livin' in an empty house."

There was a cloud over Dylan's mood as he spoke those words. It was quick, but Sky felt it distinctly.

Dylan had gone through almost as much as Mark. Worse, he guessed. Sky wondered if Dylan knew they had a few things in common. Ugly pasts, yeah, but also brothers who scorned their affections.

At least Dylan's little brother wasn't sleeping with Jackson Gadamer's telepath...

"Y'okay, mate?"

"Yes." Ashamed of sulking in the middle of a conversation, Sky looked up from his coffee, but didn't meet Dylan's eyes. "Sorry."

Dylan wrinkled his nose at the apology, like it smelled bad. "Y'all right?" he repeated.

Sky nodded, but felt the hunch of his own shoulders, the way he'd shrunk himself down in his moment of sorrow.

God dammit. Why couldn't he _ever_ act like a fucking adult?

Straightening up, he shrugged and tried to speak with conviction. "I was just thinking, you know, I kind of understand what you must be...with David, and everything. And Aki. Not wanting to, um..." _talk to you_? It seemed like a harsh thing to say, even if it was true.

"Yeah," Dylan said, his eyes serious now. "S'pose you do." He studied Sky for a moment, then retrieved two bowls. "You like yogurt?" At Sky's nod, Dylan brought out a tub of the stuff and spooned it into the bowls, then heaped them full of fruit and a shower of sliced almonds from a package on the counter.

"Wow," Sky said, pleased, and accepted his bowl and spoon. "Thank you." The coffee was all right, too, with the milk and sugar.

Ken liked his black.

He thought about what Dylan had been through with David, the suicide and everything. If Dylan had seen it coming—if he'd sensed how determined David was to die—what would he have done to stop it?

Would he have asked Sky for help, maybe? Would he have used empathy to change David's mind, if he could have? Would he have gone that far to protect his brother from himself?

Sky was pretty sure he would have.

"How was he when you saw 'im?" Dylan asked, his cheer faltering again. "At ARSI? They told me he got better, some."

Sky nodded. "He did. Not _good_ , I wouldn't say, but better."

"That's good," Dylan nodded. "And Ken, he was there, right? You two get along any better these days, or you still..."

"Yeah, he...yeah." Ken had said hello, and looked at him when he spoke. Even grunted in response a couple of times. It was almost like getting along.

Sky wished they could go on like that, build on it. But Ken would probably hate him again before long. Not probably. Definitely.

"It's all right, I guess," Sky finished awkwardly.

"Good. Glad to hear it." Dylan smiled ruefully. "Best of luck to you, from one black sheep to another. Well, we're all black sheep, yeah? So maybe we're blue sheep."

"Yeah, you, maybe. I'm more like the deformed sheep. The bald one or something."

Dylan sighed and shook his head, like he'd heard it before. "Always the pretty ones who hate themselves."

"Thanks." Sky cracked a smile and took another sip of coffee. "You're different. Much happier than when I last saw you."

"Oh, good."

"Why? What happened?"

"Nothin' happened. Well, I dunno." Dylan grimaced, refilling his own mug. "That wasn't me, before. I was out of my head. First time I ever felt like that. But I feel as if I've come out the other end."

Sky worried his lip for a moment, trying to imagine what that would feel like. "How?"

"Well, I dunno. For one thing, I'm lookin' back and seein' that maybe..." he paused, pursing his lips thoughtfully and poking at his bowl of fruit. "When things got dark, everybody else, Aki and Mark and Lip, even Luke, they all faced forward. And I didn't. Didn't accept facts. Didn't fight to do the right things, like Aki and Lip fight every day. Didn't fight to be there for my friends. Just wasn't myself. So I'm tryin' now."

"Isn't that hard?" Sky asked, intrigued.

"Yeah, but the gloom wasn't makin' nothin' better. Fightin' the gloom, that's made things better before. So I'm tryin'."

"But how do you just...change that? I mean, change those feelings?"

"Same way you have, I guess. Just fight to."

"I haven't," Sky said, surprised. "I haven't changed anything."

Dylan looked at him, his dark brows arched. "You have," he said. "Now you listen and you learn. And you've done it quick. You've come quite far and you've done it quick."

Sky felt himself making a strange face. He sensed nothing but sincerity coming from Dylan. As if the Irishman really thought that.

"Less than a year you've been on your own," Dylan said, "and look how much has changed. You're learnin' to get along. Learnin' to help. Look at the way you're helpin' David."

"But I was the one who—"

"Brought him back. Yeah. But you're not to blame for that. And it's quite a thing to do, innit? To bring two people back to life with your Talent?" Dylan's gaze was intent, as if he considered it very important that Sky hear him now. "How long you been clean, Sky?"

Sky opened his mouth wordlessly for a moment, disarmed. "Oh. I don't know. I don't count."

"Four months, yeah? Since you relapsed in Paris?" When Sky remained speechless, Dylan raised his eyebrows. "It's fuckin' great. Best thing I've seen anybody accomplish this year, I can tell you that."

"No," Sky managed, blinking. "I mean, it's just..."

"I know what it is. You were on it half your life and you quit all on your own. Thank Christ you're a Talent and your body could help you. But it takes a fuckton of strength to keep fightin' that every day like you do. I think it's fuckin' great, lad. And you're out of your mind if you don't think you've changed for the better."

If Dylan had punched him, Sky wouldn't have been as shocked. He hoped Dylan didn't expect some kind of intelligent reply, because he didn't know where to start. Instead he just said, "I don't remember you being so..." he shook his head. "Nice."

"Like I said. I wasn't myself for awhile."

"Well, thank you."

"Don't mention it."

The conversation moved to lighter things. But Sky spent it wishing Dylan had been there sooner.

Maybe things would have been different.

#  12. Jin Finds the Beat

Jin had cracked the magic combo. He'd learned the secret password. He'd discovered the formula for success. Success: Ken sleeping in _his_ bed, listening to _his_ voice, choosing _his_ company over (almost) anybody else's.

Success.

Yes, he'd done it. He'd figured it out. To win the young goblin god's favor, three sacred offerings were required: food, power, and sex.

Keep the cheeseburgers and the ice cream coming. Help him figure out how to hone his ever-growing, increasingly more terrifying Talent. And then make come so hard he didn't have the breath to argue with whatever this thing was that they were doing.

Food, power, sex. That was it. Done. Ken was his. At least, he was right this second, in a way, kind of.

"Fuck, you feel good," Jin breathed into the shell-edge of the kid's ear, ignoring the growl of irritation he got back.

Ken wasn't much for conversation during the act. The moody little shit was up against the shower wall now, face turned to the side, raven hair plastered to his skin in dripping tendrils, white fingers splayed on the dark green tiles, taut, firm ass pushing back on Jin's cock. His hips fit perfectly in Jin's hands, notched right into his palms, sharp pelvic bones jutting against his hooked fingers, ass curving under his thumbs.

This was only the fifth time Jin had been able to do this in the three weeks since the Food Power Sex regimen clicked into place, but he wasn't complaining. Wasn't even tempted to get his rocks off elsewhere, not even during the times when Ken left him hanging, ignoring him for days at a time. And it wasn't like he couldn't if he wanted to. He'd taken up residence in the same room where he and Ken had fucked for the first time, and he could have any of the hotel's prettiest guests up in his bed faster than room service, if he wanted.

But he didn't. He wanted Ken. And not just his ass. Not even just his dick. Half the time he wanted nothing like that at all. In fact, sometimes, sometimes all he really wanted to do was press his cheek against that flat white stomach, close his eyes and savor the trippy feeling of being allowed so close.

Which was fucking weird. It was fucking weird to want to do that. Fucking weird the way he had his face buried in Ken's neck right now, the way he was fucking him in deep, needful strokes like he wanted to get all the way inside him and just fucking stay there, god damn it the kid had him fucking cowed...

"Harder," Ken demanded in that thundercloud voice, his knuckles turning white like he was trying to dig his fingers into the tile.

Jin licked a streak of water from his neck and grabbed Ken's left wrist, pulling his arm back for leverage. His next thrust made Ken crumple slightly before he braced his forearm harder against the wall, his right hand curling into a fist and pounding the tile in a rare moment of sheer, unselfconscious satisfaction.

Jin's pride swelled accordingly. And Jesus, what a view. His eyes wandered up and down that serpentine spine, watching every winding muscle under the silky pale skin, the dense webs of faint white scars shifting over the ridges of bone and tendon.

He pinned Ken's hand against his hip, lacing their fingers together. He was close. Before he could reach for Ken's cock to start finishing him off, Ken did it for himself. Shocked by this show of initiative, seeing the pumping motion of Ken's forearm as he jerked himself off out of sight—that was it.

Jin's vision went black around the edges as he struggled against his orgasm, but it was already sucking him in. " _Yes_ , come on," he hissed through clenched teeth, bracing his feet on the wet tile floor to drive it in even harder. "Come on, come on, come, come, come..."

Ken's spine arched severely, his hips nearly knocking Jin over backward. He choked out a low cry, and then gasped as he doubled over with the force of his climax. He started to buckle and caught himself on the wall, pulling Jin with him.

By now Jin was familiar with feeling like he was about to burst into tears when he came. It was just part of fucking Ken. The brat got him all whipped up in a frenzy. It was like, biblical. Like when angels wept in joy at the sight of God or whatever the fuck happened. Whatever. So his eyes watered sometimes when he came. It wasn't his fault.

Just like it wasn't his fault that when it was over and he opened his eyes and saw Ken's come splashed all high-contrast against the tiles, he had thoughts so filthy he even grossed himself out a little. He wondered if Ken had any idea what kinds of things Jin would do for him if he asked.

Ken pulled away without even a wince and grabbed the showerhead, spraying the wall immediately. He hated a mess. He washed himself quickly, then thrust the fixture at Jin and left to dry off.

Jin thought of grabbing him around the waist and kissing the hell out of him before he made off, but that was the kind of thing that didn't fly. Ken didn't want Jin thinking he could do things like that whenever he wanted. Boundaries were important. Ken protected his with razor wire and land mines. Pit traps. Napalm. Jin had nearly lost limbs just to get this far.

Fuck, it was worth it, though.

Several minutes later, Jin went out to the main room in a pair of black jeans and was unsurprised to find Ken dressed and looking for his shoes. "Jesus, baby, you could kiss a guy goodbye."

"Shut up," Ken said, scanning the room for a moment before he bent down and pulled his sneakers out from under the sofa.

"So, what's next?" Jin asked, hanging an arm over the liquor cabinet. "Are we gonna get around to defense one of theses days?"

Ken sat down to put the shoes on, not responding for a moment.

For the past three weeks Jin had been feeding him a steady stream of training techniques from KGA, the basic principles and mental exercises by which Talents honed their skills, combined with what Jin knew from his own accomplishments, and what he'd learned from Jackson. The kid took to it all like a fish in water. Breezed through everything like it was nothing, went home, and then came back the next day looking more cool and confident than ever, leaving Jin to imagine he'd practiced on his own and been pleased with the results.

But their practice had been lopsided, because he couldn't convince Ken to work out his defensive maneuvers. Ken would listen to the principles, but he refused to practice with Jin.

The reason was obvious. Ken had stopped caring, to a degree, whether Jin saw the pyrokinesis, the telekinesis, the strength, the healing. But when practice would involve Jin getting into his shields and seeing his psychic Talents up close, Ken put his foot down. He wouldn't do it.

So it was unexpected when Ken suddenly muttered, "You said you'd show me how to hide stuff deeper."

To hide his surprise, Jin imitated Ken's surly demeanor, dropping his voice an octave and lowering his brow to glare at the kid. "Yeah?"

What Ken was referring to, and what he needed most, was a lesson in the kind of advanced subterfuge Jin specialized in. He needed to know how to hide thoughts and memories from even the most skeptical, penetrating, well-trained psychics. How to bury information deep within his own mind, how to forget and remember on demand.

"You said you're the best at it," Ken said, almost like an accusation.

"I am." It took an extreme level of skill and control to pull that shit off. Most telepaths would never come close. But Jin wasn't most telepaths. As a matter of fact, he could do things KGA didn't dream about—and this one was one of them, something he'd learned to do under Jackson's pressure and guidance, and something they'd relied on for years as they plotted against KGA.

Ken finished tying his shoes and sat up, hanging his elbows on his knees and giving Jin a long, cool look. Sometimes, Jin could guess what he was thinking when he stared like that. But not always. Not now.

"How did you learn?" Ken asked.

"It was the first thing Jackson did when he took me out in the field." Jin pushed off of the liquor cabinet and ambled over, sitting down on an ottoman a few feet away from Ken. "We were in Cambodia on some long-ass assignment. This was back before Vanni and Rin came on. So just me, Jackson, and this telepath named Eric."

Ken wasn't the type to encourage a conversation with an _uh-huh_ or a _go on,_ but he leaned back on the sofa, watching Jin steadily.

"There's a scheduling fuck-up," Jin says, "which almost never happens. So we end up with a month to kill, and Jackson calls in and says we'll use the time for training. That's the kind of shit only he could get away with. So we're just hanging out at this billionaire's compound in the jungle, out of KGA's surveillance range. And I'm pissed off, 'cause I don't wanna be there, I don't wanna work, but I'm stuck 'cause Jackson just pulled me out of KGA and fixed my head up, so I can't just fuck off into the jungle." Seeing the wry look in Ken's eye, he said, "Yeah, yeah, _you_ would've. I know. Anyway I was thirteen, gimme a break."

Ken's surprise was obvious.

"I told you it's been nine years with Jackson. Did you think I was never thirteen?"

"Shut up."

"Shut up or keep talking?" Jin grinned when Ken started to scowl. "All right, okay. So it's me, Jackson and Eric. Eric's a typical KGA veteran. Twenty years old. Knows his shit, mean as hell, hates everyone. So we're not exactly buddies to begin with. Then Jackson starts this fucking game. First he calls me into his office and gives me a string of numbers. Two zero four three, something like that. And he says, 'Whatever you do, don't let Eric get that out of your head.' Then he calls Eric in, and says, 'Eric, I just gave Jin a number. What is it?' Of course Eric gets it like"—Jin snapped his fingers—"that."

Now he had Ken's full attention. It was always like this. The kid was like a bloodhound for tips and tricks. Any mention of strategies, tests, or training made those green eyes turn sharp and calculating.

"So," he went on, "Jackson sends Eric back out. I'm pissed. And Jackson tells me to go to my room and consider everything I know about how people keep secrets. Next morning he calls me in and gives me another number. Same thing. Tells me to hide it, sends Eric after it, Eric gets it. This goes on fucking endlessly. It's all we do. And I keep losing. I'm getting madder and madder, wondering why I have to play the prey every time. About a week in, something clicks. I start to see the inside of my mind in a different way. And I start trying things I never tried before."

"Like what?"

"Visualizations. Walls. Doors. Boxes. Hiding places. And all this does is piss Eric off. Instead of just diving in and grabbing what he wants, he has to dig. And he's not nice about it, so I'm getting headaches, nosebleeds. But Jackson just keeps pushing it, all day, all night. And then one day, about four days before we're due to start our next assignment, I start winning."

Jin looked over his shoulder toward the ocean, remembering. He'd wanted to kill Jackson. But by the end of it, Jin had learned how to keep a fucking secret. Eric hadn't, unfortunately, which was why Jackson promptly shot him in the head.

_Mental breakdown_ , Jackson said chillingly when Jin asked what he'd file to KGA. _Common in telepaths. He was twenty, due to expire. They won't even investigate._

"So after that," Jin said slowly, "I got better and better at it. And Jackson asked me to teach him how to do it. That's how he was able to keep secrets when he had to go back for meetings at KGA."

"He couldn't figure that out himself?" As he often did when Jackson's name came up, Ken looked distinctly unimpressed.

_"No_ , he couldn't figure it out himself," Jin said. "It's not easy to explain. And he's not a telepath." Most Talents didn't understand their own heads the way a telepath did, the structures, paths, and tricks, how to manipulate thoughts and memories, how to transform the mind into a house of mirrors.

"So how did you teach him?"

"He let me in his head so I could walk him through it. Did the same for Vanni and Rin. Showed them their own lockers, taught them the combinations."

"Bullshit."

"Sure," Jin sighed patiently. " _That's_ the story I'd make up."

Ken stood up with an indifferent look and headed for the door, like they weren't in the middle of a conversation _._

"I can show you," Jin said, jumping up and following him. "If you just let me in a little bit—"

"I can figure it out myself."

Jin smoothly darted between Ken and the door, then leaned back against it and crossed his arms in an exaggeratedly casual pose. "You know," he said. "Maybe you don't know this, but usually when, say, an athlete's in training, the coach gets to be there for practice."

Ken stood in front of him, staring blankly.

"The coach watches," Jin said leaning to one side and then the other. "Gives pointers. Says 'try it this way,' or—"

"I know what a coach is."

"Well, have you ever thought—"

"Move."

Jin sighed dramatically and slid away from the door. He wanted to kiss him again, but he could tell Ken wasn't in the mood. He had a low tolerance for affection when it wasn't served just right. Much like a mean old cat. "Later, Damien."

Ken was already slipping out the room, so Jin only caught a glimpse of his sudden smile. Still, it left him smug. As far as he knew, no one _else_ had come up with a nickname Ken actually liked.

Jin shut the door behind Ken, then grabbed a bottle of wine they'd left on the coffee table and sprawled out on the couch.

It wasn't normal, being in love. Jin was aware. It wasn't a feeling he was ever supposed to have. In fact he wanted to punch Jackson in his placid fucking face for putting him in this position.

But oh, well. Here he was, still bouncing after Ken like a puppy. And truthfully, he never even thought about what Jackson wanted anymore. Somewhere around the time they'd gone fugitive, Jin had stopped giving a shit what Jackson had to do with Ken.

Stopped giving a shit wasn't accurate, actually. For some reason it pissed him off to even think about it.

So he didn't. Instead he just kept doing what he thought best, like Jackson had told him to. Pushing the kid to beef up his Talent.

Which was fine. Jin's favorite assignment ever, maybe, even though it lacked the usual blood, guts and terror of the work he was accustomed to. He liked having Ken's full attention and seeing the interest gleaming in his eyes as Jin outlined the basic elements of training. And he liked watching the kid get stronger, liked knowing he'd had a hand in that strength, and knowing Ken would have a better chance now if he ever crossed paths with a trained psychic.

_When_ he crossed paths with a trained psychic. It was bound to happen someday. Hopefully not any time soon.

It got under Jin's skin to even think about Ken having to go up against a KGA operative now. The kid was strong, but he didn't know his shit yet. Raw power wasn't everything. How would he cope with the cunning cruelty and mind games of KGA's elite?

Jin liked to think he'd never have to, that KGA would be rubble sooner than that. In fact, the feeling that gripped him when he imagined Ken in a room alone with Strauss was...

Jin scowled and smacked himself in the chest, trying to break up the sickening tightness there.

This was bullshit. Being in love was bullshit. Being in love as a fugitive telepath was bullshit. Being in love with Ken was the stupidest shit he'd ever come up with in his whole life.

But he couldn't stop.

#  13. Baby Steps

It was interesting to see Sky getting better at what he did. Aki looked on from the dining table on one end of the open living area of the beach house, while the empath worked with David on the other. David was slumped in the corner of the sofa, his head resting on his folded arms, staring vacantly at Sky. Sky sat in a lounge chair, lithe and beautiful in pale gray trousers and a loose, plum-toned shirt that set off his shining blond hair. The only sound was some sixties song playing in the background. David had put the music on himself, a sign of life Aki found very encouraging.

David was improving. Not quickly, not dramatically, but he was improving. He still lay in bed for hours on end, staring bleakly into nothing. He still succumbed to sudden panic attacks, which Aki wouldn't have discovered if he hadn't passed by David's bedroom late at night and heard his frantic gasps. He still needed sedatives to sleep.

But there was hope. It wasn't like when Luke had come back. Jen had ripped Luke's mind out at the roots and then stuffed the poisoned remnants back inside. Luke had been gone. But there was life in David—recognizable life. There were flickers of sarcasm, hints of the old storm behind his eyes, the smoky tenacity that had always set him distinctly apart from his twin.

Yet there were times, too, when David simply looked sad. There were times when Aki came upon him staring out the window and stopped short, because that kind of sadness made him look exactly like Luke used to look sometimes, even back before Jen. David had never looked like that. It was the aura of sweet melancholy that Luke had never shaken, the haunted look of a heart that ached incurably.

Aki _saw_ Luke in those moments. It was jarring. But he had to be stern with himself. Luke was gone, and the time for debilitating grief was over. Luke would have wanted him to move forward, especially now, with David so bent out of shape.

If it broke Aki's heart to feel that empty space beside him, for David Luke's absence was a crisis of a higher order. In some selfish way it was a relief to assume that David's grief surpassed his own. Aki wasn't alone on that battlefield anymore. And taking up the work Luke wasn't there to do—watching out for David, trying to get him on his feet—was soothing. There was a comforting sense of purpose in doing what he knew Luke would want.

Just as Sky sat up with a sigh that meant he'd done all the work he could do, Aki heard a motorcycle pulling into the driveway. Ken? That was interesting. Ken knew Sky was here.

"Finished?" Aki straightened up and walked over to join them, looking between Sky and David.

"Yeah." Sky glanced toward the foyer, the surprise evident in his blue gray eyes. "Is that Ken?"

"Might be."

"Oh. Well." Sky stood up and looked at David again. "I hope it helped."

David was gazing at Sky in that flat, unnerving way. "Thank you very much, Sky. It's a great help indeed. Sorry it's unpleasant."

"It's better, actually." Sky absently ran his hand up and down the opposite arm, like he often he did when he was nervous. "I hope it keeps getting better."

Ken appeared in the living room, dressed in black jeans and a gray jacket that made the contrasting greens of his eyes stand out even more than usual. He looked between them all, mumbled a greeting, and went for the kitchen area.

"How's Dylan?" Aki asked, sensing Ken's attempt to pretend there was nothing remarkable about him choosing to be in the same room as Sky when he could have easily avoided it.

"Nice," Sky said, looking very humble. David was studying him curiously. "It's been nice. He's not like I remembered."

"How do you mean?" Aki moved to sit on the sofa with David, where he could watch Ken out of the corner of his eye. Ken had taken a carton of leftover noodles from the refrigerator and was eating them at the table where Aki had been sitting, watching them in his usual cool, disaffected way.

"I mean he seems more like he used to be, from what I hear. I didn't know him well before, but he's friendly. Funny. Laughs a lot. It's nice."

"Good. I'm glad." He was. There was nothing wrong with Dylan getting back to normal. "Tell him I said hello."

"I will. He'll be happy." He paused, glancing at Ken, then at the floor, and then looking at Aki again. "He thinks about you a lot, I think. Both of you."

Aki nodded neutrally. David didn't react.

"Well, I'll see you later," Sky said, moving toward the foyer. Ken tracked his approach from the other side of the table, chewing a mouthful of noodles.

"Bye, Sky," Aki said.

"Bye," David said.

Just when Sky had passed him, Ken said, "Go eat."

Sky stopped and turned, blinking. "Sorry?"

Ken stared back at him. "After you use your Talent," he said, "you should eat. So you're not worn out."

"I will," Sky said, looking stunned. "Thanks."

Ken grunted and focused on his noodles again.

"Bye," Sky said, and flashed Aki a lovely smile before he disappeared.

Aki suddenly realized he couldn't remember the last time Sky had smiled. It brought a smile to his own face, which he smoothly hid from Ken by turning his attention to David. "How are you?"

David had an odd, contemplative look on his face, staring toward the entryway where Sky had disappeared. "Not dead," he replied at length.

Aki shook his head, squeezed David's shoulder, and joined Ken at the table.

#  14. Lip Takes a Vacation

It was another beautiful day in Los Angeles. Lip always enjoyed the drive in from ARSI's facilities east of the city, and he had a good feeling about today, which was probably stupid, but he figured he might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Besides, he was looking forward to seeing everyone. Ever since shit had hit the fan, he'd been working around the clock.

Overseeing expansions at ARSI was a full-time job even before Jackson became a silent partner, and now Lip had to add in video conference calls with the precognitive to check in on how things were going. Jen sat in on those meetings, which served to reassure Lip and Kel that she was actually doing well under the precog's guidance—she was.

Jen would tip them off to any funny business, they hoped, assuming she hadn't been brainwashed, too. Assuming she hadn't secretly turned on them again. At a certain point, there was only so much control they could have over the situation. Yeah, it was nerve-wracking.

But so far, the worry was worth it. So far. Jackson's money had allowed him, Mark and Kel to ease up on the grueling schedule of freelance espionage they'd been relying on for money. And Jackson's supervision of Jen was a relief beyond all measure. It drove Mark insane, yeah, but Lip guessed he had to be relieved on some level, even if he was too caught up in his feelings to see it.

Anyway, fuck all that angst. Today he'd come to see David, and Aki, and Ken. And yeah, yeah, he knew David was in a fugue and Aki was doing the strong and silent thing, but fuck it. Maybe if he treated the visit like a vacation, they could all have a good time for once in a blue moon.

Lip pulled up into the driveway of Aki's house and was thrilled to see that Ken had just arrived, and was climbing off of what looked like a new motorcycle. Off to a good start. Grinning, he threw open the door of the car. "Hey!" he yelled, stepping out and shutting the door behind him. "Didn't I ground you from driving?"

Ken pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his raven-black hair, which was now growing into the kind of ruffled, gleaming shag any of the downtown hipsters would have killed for. The little bastard spared Lip a hint of a smile that was equal parts guilty and smug. "Forgot."

"C'mere." Lip pulled him into a quick hug, tousling his hair. "Good to see you here, mate. Where'd you get this bike?"

"Kel." The smile grew, showing a flash of teeth. Such a strange beauty the kid had. Fine as a razor blade.

"Kel!" Lip feigned outrage. "He forgot, too? When was this?"

"Like a week after we got here." Ken stashed the helmet. "He asked if I needed one."

"Son of a bitch," Lip laughed. Of course, he couldn't really be mad. The thought of cool, stoic Kel agreeing to help Ken procure a motorcycle behind his back was the funniest thing he'd heard in awhile. "Well, I was gonna un-ground you anyway. I know you can't do shit in this town without drivin'. I'm not so good at the whole authority thing, hey?"

Ken snorted softly. "That's fine."

This was off to a good start, Lip thought as they headed inside. He'd always had a soft spot for Ken—who didn't?—and he loved how every time he saw the kid, he seemed stronger and more sure of himself. It was hard to believe he was the same feral creature who'd shown up on Mark's doorstep less than a year ago in Paris, shaking, mute, disfigured. Kept like an animal all his life, subjected to nauseating cruelties, killed by his captors. Somehow came back to life on his own. Somehow made his way across half of Europe to reach them. How? Who knew? If Ken did, he wasn't telling. The kid kept a lot to himself.

That reminded him. He was gonna have to get the lowdown on Ken's dealings with Jin. They all knew that unlikely relationship had taken a turn for the extremely close in recent weeks. Lip and Kel both suspected Ken was using Jin for his psychic expertise. Kel approved of the idea. Lip understood, but couldn't help wishing a single one of their own people was qualified to deal with that shit. It was excruciating having to let these shady ex-KGA ratbags ingratiate themselves...

Anyway. Lip shook his head. Vacation mode, for now. Set the tone.

To his extreme surprise, Aki was on the deck, _grilling_. With a _beer_ in one hand, at that.

Rendered speechless by this display of normalcy, Lip glanced at Ken and saw that the kid's usually inscrutable face had gone all warm and lovely, his mismatched green eyes honed in on Aki with unrestrained affection. Good, Lip thought. _Good._ If anybody deserved that, it was Aki.

"He looks better," Lip murmured, and grinned when Aki spotted them.

"'Cause of David, I think," Ken said, and then looked uncomfortable, as if he shouldn't have said it. He turned away to shed his jacket and hang it on the coat rack near the door.

"Yeah," Lip said, warmed as always by Ken's awkward charm. "Sometimes it's easier to fight for somebody else than for just yourself."

Ken glanced at him, but said nothing. Lip followed him outside.

"Lip," Aki greeted, reserved as always, but rounded the barbecue to embrace Lip. "Good to see you."

"Likewise. You got another beer for me?"

"I'll get them." Ken gave Lip a subtle look, challenging him to comment, and disappeared inside.

"Brat," Lip laughed when he'd gone. "Christ, you guys look great. Lots better than the last time I saw you."

Aki gave him a wry look. "Keep your standards low and we should be fine." He looked over Lip's shoulder and nodded inside, prompting the Australian to turn and see Ken disappearing into the hallway instead of the kitchen. "They talk. Ken and David."

Lip raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"David likes him." Aki shrugged slowly. "I don't know. Seems to wake up when he's around."

"That's good, yeah?"

"Yeah, I think so. Ken thinks he's interesting."

"How you feelin' these days, mate?"

"Okay. I'm, uh." Aki shrugged and gave Lip a noncommittal look. "You know. I'm fine."

"You look really good, Aki," Lip replied. "You do. I mean, I'm hopin' you feel half as much better as you look."

"Thanks. I do." Aki looked down at the grill again, where an astonishing array of meat, fish and vegetables was in the works. "I heard Sky's doing all right with Dylan." At Lip's nod, Aki looked up again. "Was that your idea?"

"Yeah," Lip said cautiously, trying to read Aki's expression. "Things got kind of weird at ARSI. You know how Mark gets sometimes."

"Ah." Aki understood immediately. " _Sou ka_."

"And Sky's come so far. I didn't want him gettin' dragged into that shit, you know..." he winced, wishing there was a nice way to put it. "The 'nothin' really matters' bullshit."

"Good call." Aki tested a few slices of beef with his tongs and flipped them over, one by one. "Dylan was always nice to Sky. Maybe that'll be good." He paused, grimacing faintly. "Feel bad for them both. Always on someone's bad side."

Lip nodded. "Anything better between you and Dylan? He said you talked."

"Yeah. Nothing new." Aki was silent for a moment, and then sighed. "I don't know. I did respect the apology. Maybe it'll get better after a while."

Ken returned with four open bottles of beer notched between his slender fingers. He passed them theirs, set one on the bench against the house, and kept one for himself. Lip nodded to the one he'd set aside. "David comin' out?"

"Maybe." Ken paused. "If not, I'll drink it."

"What else are you lettin' him get away with?" Lip accused Aki.

Aki shot Ken a fond smile and raised his beer. "Teenage rebellion."

"I could be thirty," Ken countered quietly, smiling over the neck of the bottle before he drank.

Lip laughed and tipped his own drink back, savoring the unexpectedly casual atmosphere. How long had it been since any of them had enjoyed a simple moment like this? It'd been too long. Jesus, way too long.

#  15. Moves Like Jackson

For whatever reason, Jackson's Talents hated San Francisco, Giovanni especially. The Italian empath wasn't usually vulnerable to such petty annoyances, but he'd been sullen since they settled into their rented townhouse in the Outer Sunset neighborhood. Jackson had chosen the area specifically to keep the sadistic empath away from tourists, but the culture of the Bay Area in general appeared to grate on his nerves like nowhere else. It couldn't be helped. They needed to give Jin a wider berth, and this was a practical choice.

Still, Jackson had asked a great deal of Giovanni in the months since he'd sent Jin off on his own solo mission. The empath had stepped up, as expected, but there was only so much one could demand of Talents like Jin and Vanni without offering something in return. Luckily, today was the day that Jackson would execute a part of his plan that he knew the empath would relish.

Giovanni entered his office just as Jackson was finishing a phone call with Kel, who was requesting additional details on one of the many research documents Jackson had sent the ARSI Talents as part of their partnership deal.

"That's correct," Jackson said into the phone. "The project is still active." He nodded to Giovanni. "Yes, certainly. We can discuss this on Monday. Until then."

Hanging up the phone, he folded his hands in his desk and looked at his empath. "How are you getting along with Jennifer?"

"Today?" Giovanni leaned back in his chair, wearing his usual bored expression. "Fine." His platinum hair was freshly buzzed; he must have cut it that morning.

"Good. You've done fine work with her. She's more stable now than even she realizes."

Giovanni's only reaction was a lackluster shrug. He'd done an elegant job of soothing Jen's head, but it was dull work for him.

"She's asked us for some more extensive reconditioning."

"What kind of reconditioning?"

"Curing her obsession with Mark."

As expected, Giovanni's eyes sharpened with interest.

"I approve of the idea." Jackson watched the smile spread briefly over the Italian's face.

Many KGA empaths enjoyed causing pain, and Giovanni was no exception. But given that his Talent was so much more refined than they could ever dream of, it was no surprise that he enjoyed more elegant tricks, as well.

It was elementary for an empath to provoke a feeling in his targets—hatred, pain, lust, grief, affection. It was far more challenging, however, to extinguish an emotion that was already deeply felt. Killing love was one of Giovanni's favorite things to do.

"This will be a delicate undertaking," Jackson went on. "You're not to erase every feeling of affection she has for him. She should remain as loyal to him as ever. There's no need for us to destroy those bonds of friendship. But the romantic love, you can do away with. Completely."

"Just that?"

"The sexual obsession, as well."

The Italian smirked. "Okay."

"She's asked to see him one more time before this happens."

"Stupid."

Jackson shrugged. "She needs the closure. We need her focused."

"Fine. So?"

"They're meeting tonight. I'll have a driver take you to pick her up from the hotel. You can get to it as soon as you're on the road."

"Why not do him, too?"

"Because we don't need him focused."

Giovanni snorted.

"Once that's done, she'll be off to Toronto. You know KGA has shifted core operations there; she'll be noticed in short order. I need you to do a final review of her shields and layers. Make sure she looks every bit the part of the Key."

The empath shrugged slowly. "She does. Did when she got here."

"Good. Make a final confirmation as you bring her back here. I'll be sending her off."

Giovanni studied Jackson and then looked thoughtfully past him, out the windows behind the desk. "Once she gets to KGA," he said, "shit hits the fan?"

Jackson smiled briefly. It was a real smile, born of pride and anticipation. "Not right away. But we're getting very close."

Giovanni's eyes moved back to Jackson's. "Are we going there?"

"No. You're not going there. When KGA goes down, you'll be close to me, doing whatever you like."

"What about Jin?"

"He'll be with us soon."

The empath nodded and gave up on the questions; though he was clearly wondering how it would all play out, he was far more patient than Jin. "All right. What time is the final fuck fest?"

"Around midnight. You'll know when she leaves. Avoid her until then. She's not particularly excited about this."

Giovanni stood up from his chair, much more relaxed than when he'd come in. "You got it."

Jackson watched him walk out of the room and then rose from his desk, turning to look out the windows at the fog bank rolling into Golden Gate Park. His entire adult life had been a deliberate march toward this moment, every day a meticulously planned stage of the clandestine battle he'd waged since he first realized he could be the master of KGA's downfall. Now only weeks remained until it all fell into place, and the future he'd worked toward all these years was so close it was surreal.

It was a shame he wouldn't witness Strauss's destruction firsthand. Indeed, he would have enjoyed pulling the trigger himself. But unlike Strauss, Jackson thought on a scale too large to be caught up in personal vendettas. Strauss's end would be a pleasant side effect of the real victory that was conquering KGA.

Suddenly the smell of oranges appeared from nowhere. Jackson grimaced faintly, recognizing the sign that a vision was on its way. He sank into the chair near the window, pressing his fingers to his brow, and waited.

Soon. So soon. But the work wasn't over yet.

#  16. David Doesn't Like It

Lip wasn't surprised David hadn't come downstairs to join them for lunch. That would have been asking a lot. But he couldn't help being disappointed when he found the twin in his bedroom, lying on his stomach on the bed, curtains drawn. Not a great sign. The door was ajar, and Lip knocked on it lightly, prompting David to mumble permission to enter.

"Hey, David." Lip hadn't seen him since that first morning at ARSI, right after he'd come back. "Can I hang for a bit?"

"F'you want."

Lip looked around for a moment, knowing there was no point making some cliché suggestion about opening the curtains or something. Instead he simply went to the desk across the room and took the chair from it, pulling it up next to the bed and sitting down. "Lots of food downstairs. You want me to bring something up?"

"No." David was lying with his face turned toward Lip, and he opened his eyes to look at him dully.

Lip leaned forward, hanging his elbows on his knees, and studied David's face. No identical twins had ever been easier to tell apart than Luke and David when they were both alive. Luke had always had a distant look about him, a shy smile. David's eyes were always sharp, and he was quick to smirk or laugh. He was the tough one.

That was why it had been such a blindside, him deciding to die. Nobody would have been so shocked if Luke had done it, even before all the shit with Jen. Looking back, though, Lip wondered just how much that toughness must have cost him inside. Maybe it cost him everything.

Now David was the one with the distant look, but even now, he clearly wasn't his brother. Even now there was something fiercer to him, a shadow of that sharp edge that Luke had never had. Would it help him any, now? Lip would like to hope it would, but who could say?

"Think I expected you to look a little better," Lip said softly. "They said Sky was helpin'."

"Yeah, well, some days are worse than others." David shrugged vaguely. "Like when I think too much. But I'm not hangin' myself or nothin'."

"That's kind of a low bar."

David's lips pulled ever so slightly, the vaguest hint of a smile.

Lip would take it. "S'good to see you, mate," he murmured, and felt his chest tighten unexpectedly.

The suicide had hurt. Badly. Lip had mourned David, same as everyone. Hadn't bothered being pissed about it, like Dylan, and hadn't had to fight about it, like Aki and Luke. He'd just been fuckin' sad. Sad he hadn't seen it coming, sad he didn't know what he could have done about it. Sad the kid hadn't asked for help, hadn't seen any hope. Sad about the life he'd had to live, all the shit that must have gone into his decision.

It was just sad. And now the poor bastard had been dragged out of his coffin, all by himself, to face a future that wasn't any better, and was in fact inconceivably worse, because on top of whatever had made him miserable before, now he had to deal with it without his twin brother. Christ.

"Sorry, Lip."

Lip met his eyes again, blinking. "Hm?"

"You know." David's expression didn't change, except the look in his eyes seemed more profoundly devoid of hope.

"Oh, mate," Lip breathed. "Jesus, you look like hell."

The bleak smile returned, and then unexpectedly, David's eyes brimmed with tears. He closed them just as quickly, turning to his back and covering them with his hand. After a moment he dropped the hand, keeping his eyes closed. No tears were on his cheeks, and his face was blank. "You seen Dylan?"

"Not yet. Probably tonight."

David opened his eyes, now slightly red-rimmed, but dry. He stared up at the ceiling. "So Sky's with 'im now."

"Yeah."

"Tell 'im to keep an eye on that one."

"On Sky?" Lip frowned. "Why?"

"It's one thing, him comin' to visit from ARSI." David rubbed his eyes. "But he's too close now."

Vacation over. Lip knew right away nothing good was about to come out of David's mouth. "What do you mean, mate?"

"Y'know Luke never liked 'im."

"Yeah, I knew that."

"Told Ken not to talk to 'im."

Lip shook his head. That, he hadn't known. He always thought Luke disliked Sky because Sky had so obviously been attracted to him. But if Luke had told Ken not to talk to his own brother, he must have had a more serious reason. "Why did he do that?"

"Luke's an empath." It wasn't clear if David was conscious of the slip into present tense. Nor if he actually thought that was a clear answer.

"Help me out, mate. Sounds like you think I should be worried about somethin'."

"Y'already are." David shrugged and turned to look at him again. "Nothin' new."

The Irish boy was being just a little too vague, and Lip was reluctant to push him. He was just glad to hear the kid talking. Still, he couldn't just let the subject drop. "Sky's come a long way," he said for the second time that day.

"Does a lot for me, sure as hell. I got nothin' against him." David paused, but something funny came into his eyes, something bitter and faraway. "Just know a crazy brother when I see one, Lip."

Lip's heart sank. At a loss for a moment, he looked down. Finally he said, "I just wanna give the poor bastard a chance, you know, he tries so fuckin' hard..."

This wasn't what he'd expected when he'd come to talk to David. And it sucked. He'd really been trying to get Sky to feel like a part of the team. But he couldn't take David's feelings lightly. Especially not now.

David sat up slowly. There was a troubled look on his face; oddly enough, it was sort of a relief to see in place of the blank despair there'd been before. Lip understood what Aki meant now about David waking up when Ken was around. The subject seemed to drag him, if not out of his fugue, then closer to the edge of it.

"Somethin's not right," David said, looking Lip in the eye. "'Bout the way he looks at that kid. And he's tryin', yeah, and he loves 'im, I know. But it's a greedy kinda love, innit?"

"I don't think he knows many kinds." Lip leaned back in the chair, raking his hands slowly through his short hair. "And he's lonely, and he wants not to be. He thinks we all hate him. Thinks I hate him, thinks Ken hates him. I don't know how to help the kid." He was rambling despite himself. The last thing he wanted to do was vent to David, of all people.

The Irish boy gave a slow shrug. "Can't help everybody, Lip."

"I'd settle for somebody," Lip burst out before he bit his tongue. He rubbed his face, groaning softly. "Jesus."

There was a silence, and then David slid to the edge of the bed. They were nearly knee-to-knee, and Lip looked at him in surprise as David reached out and took his hands. Staring into his face, Lip felt like he was looking at a ghost. But at least it was the ghost of someone he knew. He did see David in there, deep in those ravaged eyes. The kid wasn't gone. Lip squeezed David's hands, his throat tight.

"You do help," David said softly. "Always have." He smiled faintly again, and it was a sad, horrible smile. Lip almost couldn't bear to look at it. "You're just surrounded by sick bastards. You deserve a different life."

"We all deserve a different life," Lip said fiercely, and reached up to squeeze David's shoulder. "Especially you, David."

The smile got even sadder. "Not gonna argue."

Lip moved forward and pulled him into a hug. "Hang in there, mate," he whispered, holding the back of his head. "All right? It's gonna get better."

"It's not gonna get better." David was limp in his embrace.

"It is. I'm not promisin' the moon, but it'll get better."

David was silent and still. And then, slowly, he reached up and put his arms around Lip's waist. Weakly, at first. And then his hands found a grip on Lip's shoulders and held tight.

Lip chose not to see this as a mere small victory. He rubbed David's back and savored it as the triumph that it was.

#  17. Ken Lets the Cat Out

Ken was glad Lip had come by. He was always so easy to get along with, even for Aki. And he didn't know how the Australian's conversation with David had gone, but he'd seemed pretty pleased with it when he came back downstairs. That was good. The world needed more people like Lip.

"Hey, Ken," Lip said as he picked up his keys. "You got plans tonight?"

Ken paused. He glanced at Aki, who was standing by the door with a knowing look. Aki knew he'd been going to meet Jin a lot. And as a matter of fact, he did have plans to meet the telepath tonight. Kind of important plans.

When he'd left Jin in the morning, he'd said he was ready to learn the kind of defense Jin had been talking about. Jin's obvious glee almost made him take it back, but it _did_ seem important, and to his irritation, he hadn't yet managed to figure it out himself. Or if he had, he wasn't really sure.

"Yeah," Ken said at last.

"You want a ride somewhere?"

Ken paused again before he said, "Okay."

"All right," Lip said. "Thanks for the food, Aki. Maybe we can spar tomorrow before I leave."

"Please?" With all the physical Talents at ARSI, Aki never got to fight anymore.

"All right, meet me at the gym. Crack of dawn. Tell David bye for me."

"You know where I'm going?" Ken asked once they'd stepped outside.

"Yep." Lip said breezily, and shot him a smile as they got into the car. "And I'm about to do that thing you hate where I ask you questions."

Ken grimaced faintly and shut the door after himself. "Okay."

"Here we go," Lip laughed, starting the car. "Can we take a long way? Get some burgers?"

"Yeah." Ken sank down a little in his seat, already feeling awkward. If Lip was going to ask about Jin, he didn't know how he'd handle it. But then, Lip gave good advice without making a big deal out of shit. And anyway, he should know about the training they'd been doing. Better than it being some private affair between Ken, Jackson and Jin. Just the thought of that made him scowl.

Lip glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Everything fine?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. So, bear with me, hey?" Lip pulled onto the freeway. "I know you guys spend a lot of time together."

Ken grunted, slumping so low in his seat now that his chin was almost touching his chest. He wasn't going to lie, but he wasn't going to give any answers he wouldn't give Jin, either. After all, the telepath could just come get this conversation out of Lip's head any time he wanted.

Just then Lip said, as if he were the telepath, "You must feel like you can't talk about it, right? When he can just snoop around and find out what you said."

Ken sighed, shrugging helplessly.

"I'm not that easy to break into, you know. Neither's Mark. Neither's Kel. We know how to lock things up. If Jin really went for it, that's one thing, but we'd have a problem if that happened, you know what I mean?"

"No."

"I mean just a normal scan's not gonna pick up what we keep hidden," Lip said patiently. "I'm just talkin' about me, and Kel, and Mark. Not talkin' about Aki or David or Dylan, 'cause their shields, you know, they're not the best these days. But me and Kel and Mark, you can talk to us if you need to. If Jin wants a playback, he'll have to fight for it."

Ken looked at Lip, uncertain. "Really?"

"Yeah. So tell me about it."

After a moment of reluctance, Ken let out another sigh. "We just...I asked him to help me. With my Talent."

Lip nodded, clearly unsurprised. "How's that workin' out?"

"Good." He paused. _Really_ good. Every time he learned something new from Jin, he ran a mile with it. "He tells me things, simple things. He taught me the daily exercises they do at KGA for focus and control. Once I learned those, it..." It all started coming together so fast it shocked him. "I just needed a place to start."

The truth was, he'd gotten stronger than he expected. Stronger than anybody knew.

All he did with Jin was take the lesson and make sure he understood. The practice happened later, when he was alone. Exploring telekinesis and pyrokinesis at night, on the beach, or at the side of the house where the hedges and trees offered privacy. Wandering throughout the city, using the minds of strangers to test the boundaries of what he could do.

"So what've you been doin', then?"

Ken hesitated, chewing his lip. So far he'd kept these things to himself. Jin knew the most, because he offered so much in return for knowledge. But shouldn't Lip know at least as much as Jin?

"You still don't like to tell people," Lip said thoughtfully. "Never met somebody who played their cards closer to their chest than you, mate. You really hold it in."

"I know."

"I know you have your reasons and all. But this past month since Jen and David came back, with Jackson getting so far up in our business," Lip sighed, looking almost exasperated as he continued to list the circumstances. "And since you came out as a pyro, and with your Talent acting up more and more, and this relationship with Jin escalating the way it has? It'd make me feel a lot better if I had just a little bit more of an idea of what's goin' on with you, you know?"

Ken wasn't surprised by any of that. He wasn't really sure how this conversation was going to turn out, but at least he'd seen it coming for a couple of weeks. With a long sigh, he pulled himself up straighter in his seat.

"I know you don't like us in your business."

"It's not like that. I just don't like when...there's people like you, who know all this stuff, and I don't know anything. So I say one thing and then you see this whole picture I don't see, and it...just..." He blew out a breath, swirling a hand in the air.

Lip nodded slowly. "I see."

"I just don't want people knowing more about me than I do. And then it's like, Jackson, you know, he's got this fucking plan for me, and it's like no matter what I—"

"Hold on," Lip interrupted. "What do you mean? What plan?"

"You know." Ken shrugged. "I don't know what I mean. I just know he does."

"You mean to get you on his team?" Lip asked slowly, and when Ken didn't answer right away, he pressed, "Or something else? Because 'plan' sounds a little more specific."

"I don't know. Using me to take down KGA."

"Wait," Lip cut in again, his voice sharpening. "Why do you think that?"

"I don't know," Ken said, glancing at Lip. "I just have a feeling."

"Jesus Christ, Ken, you have a _feeling_? Why didn't you fuckin' tell someone?"

Ken fell silent, surprised.

"I'm sorry," Lip stammered. "I'm not mad. I just..."

Ken lifted his shoulders, confused. What exactly was Lip so shocked by? The Australian knew he kept things to himself. Did he just assume none of them were important? "I sort of told. I told you I thought he was the one who made Sky wake up Jen and David. To get her, and maybe me."

"That is _not_ how you told me." Lip looked at him, suddenly, like he had no idea what he was looking at. Like Ken was out of his mind. "Ken."

"Maybe I didn't say it _exactly_."

Lip fell quiet, his face gone pale and grim. He pulled off the freeway and veered into the parking lot of a gas station, where he parked the car and dropped back in his seat, staring out through the windshield.

"I thought everyone already thought Jackson wanted my Talent." Ken said uncertainly.

Lip turned in his seat, facing Ken with an intensely serious look in his blue eyes. " _What_ Talent, Ken? What is it?"

"It's not one thing." Ken said hesitantly, not sure if he really wanted to get into this or not. But Lip had promised privacy. What was the harm in hearing what he thought about it?

"It's more than one thing?" The Australian's eyes grew even more intent. "Like what?"

Ken glanced at the gas tanks. "I can't really show you here."

"Just tell me."

"Like in KGA words?"

"Whatever."

"Pyrokinesis. Telekinesis." Ken sighed. "Uh, both kinds of healing. And psychic healing, sometimes. Which I guess isn't supposed to happen, but I do it. And there's other stuff like that. Like the thing where I can kind of... " he gestured from his head toward Lip's, feeling stupid. "Blast people. But I don't get to practice that, because I'm scared I could kill someone. And then..." he trailed off.

"What?" Lip looked like all the blood had drained from his face. "What else?"

"I don't want them to know."

"It's in the vault, Ken."

"There's...you know how I know stuff, sometimes? And I can't explain it? I think I...dream it. Like I dreamed about Jen and David coming back." That was another thing he might not have explained as clearly as he could have.

Lip was now looking at him like he'd grown five heads. Which, in a way, he sort of had. If heads were Talents.

"And then I forget the dreams, most of the time," Ken continued. "Then I just know a lot of stuff, and don't know how I know. So I'm some kind of, like, precognitive."

"Is that it?"

"I don't know," Ken said uncertainly. Not at all, but close enough, for now. "The thing is, all of it is...bigger than it's supposed to be. And I've been learning, like, really fast. I think I might be like Jen, but maybe more. Because it seems like nobody else has been as, you know, whatever. As me."

"Jesus Christ," Lip whispered, closing his eyes and laying his head back on the seat.

"I'm not crazy, though." Ken looked at Lip, not wanting to be thrown in with the Talents who'd lost control. "I'm really not. I'm not gonna lose it or anything."

"I'm not worried about you being _crazy_ ," Lip said, his voice tense. "I'm worried about...fuckin' hell Ken, you think Jackson knows all this?"

"I think he might know everything. But I'm not sure. Jin doesn't know everything, so it's hard to tell."

"I wish you'd told someone."

"It's not that simple," Ken said. "I didn't even know what I could do. I mean it's all been really fast. Just the last month. And then, Jin's always listening, you know? He's always following me around and picking everyone's brains about me."

"We could have stopped that."

"But that wouldn't work," Ken argued, frustrated. "He's the only one who can train me. He knows all the shit from KGA. That's why I've been putting up with him since Jen and David woke up, because I knew he was the only one who knew about that stuff. Nobody knew. I asked you and Kel, didn't I? I asked you if you knew what to do with pyro shit. And you said it was a good thing he was there."

"Yeah, but there's..." Lip made claws in the air, distraught. "You can't just tell us bits and pieces, mate!"

"I thought everyone knew as much as I did."

"How could anyone know anything?" Lip cried. "You don't say it! You don't _say_ anything."

"Sky does!" Ken shot back, flabbergasted. "He talks about it all the fucking time. You guys never said he was wrong. I figured you agreed with him."

"Sky? Agreed with _Sky_?" Lip's eyes were wide and horrified. "We were listening to _you_ , Ken. You acted like he was crazy!"

"He _is_ crazy. I never said he was wrong about that, though. I just wanted him to fuck off and stop making it worse."

"Fuck." Lip crossed his arms on the steering wheel and buried his head in them. " _Fuck_."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." Ken said, at a loss. "But it wouldn't really make a difference. I can only handle it on my own."

"No," Lip shook his head. "That can't be true."

"It is true," Ken said helplessly. "It is. What would you do? Stop me from seeing Jin, so then I'd have nobody to train me? I'm just doing what I have to do. I'm not stupid."

"I know you're not stupid. It's not about being stupid."

"Anyway I know how it works. I've only seen a few things, I mean, the precognitive way, but none of them could have been stopped. If Jackson sees me helping him, then...what can I do about it?"

Lip's head jerked up and he looked at Ken, outraged. "Are you seriously telling me Jackson Gadamer controls your fate?"

Ken bristled intensely. "Don't say it like that," he said tersely. "But yeah, if he wasn't a precognitive, it'd be different."

"So you think he's got a plan for you, and you think you can't even try to get out of it?"

"Because I don't even know what it is!" Ken burst out. "I'm just trying to get as strong as I can. Maybe I can get out of it. Maybe I'll get to blow Jackson's head up instead—him and his stupid empath. Maybe Jin's gonna fuck me over, and I'll have to fry him. I don't know. What else can I do? If I can get stronger than them, that's my best chance." He'd said all this before, in his head, to himself, many times over. "And maybe they don't even know how strong I am. I practice in secret, after I leave him. I go out on the beach and fuck with the waves and shit. And I go up in the hills and practice reading..." he shut his mouth.

"Reading minds." Lip said tonelessly.

"Just a little. Just...I just figured out how. Not everyone..."

"We need to talk to Kel. Now."

"Not now. I have to go meet Jin. You can't let them..." Ken made a sound of frustration. "No, Lip. You can't do that. If you tell Kel, then Kel's going to meet Jackson next time and then Jackson's gonna pick up on it and then he'll just know even more than he already does." A swell of dismay overcame him. "He's already going to figure it out when _you_ meet him."

"Listen to yourself!" Lip cried. "You've been dealing with this shit all alone this whole time? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" Ken yelled back, overwhelmed. "I have a bunch of fucking psychics all over my business all the time!"

"You don't think we could help you at all?" Lip shouted, looking somewhere between furious and heartbroken. "Jesus, Ken, you haven't even been out of the woods for a fucking _year_. You don't think we might know some things you don't?"

"I know you do," Ken said helplessly. "I know you know better. But it's me in this spot, okay? I know it shouldn't be me, but they've already got me in this spot. So all I have is my shields and this Talent. Nobody can help me more than that. It'd just make it worse, having more people for Jackson to read, don't you get that?" Ken felt exhausted suddenly. This wasn't how he'd expected this car ride to go. "You think I don't know I'm in over my fucking head? I wish you could help me. And I wish you didn't...I'm not an idiot, Lip."

Lip fell silent. He propped his elbow on the edge of the door and turned his face from Ken, covering his brow with his hand.

Ken sat back in his seat, so upset he felt sick to his stomach. His mind was swirling with a contradictory mix of irritation, frustration, guilt, helplessness, and a sudden, desperate desire for Lip to say something that would just clear all of this up. Something to prove him wrong, maybe. Shit, maybe he wouldn't even mind being an idiot if it meant he could just sit down and let someone else deal with the mess.

All this time he'd kept his suspicions and defenses to himself, not realizing how many complexities were piling up, how much pressure. Not realizing how much trouble he could be in if his fate was really in Jackson's hands. No wonder Lip was freaking out. It was all fucked up.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, mate." Lip said at last, sounding exhausted. "I should be yellin' at myself." He dragged his hand down his face. "I knew you thought Jackson wanted you on his team. That seemed obvious. He needs more psychics on his side. And I knew you thought that was why he had Sky wake Jen and David up, to keep us busy with him so we wouldn't have a choice but to send her his way. But I did not know you had this feeling he has some plan to use you against KGA. That's so fuckin' different, Ken. I mean, if that had crossed my mind...I didn't know any of this."

Ken looked down at his lap, miserable.

"And Sky, yeah, he's tried to say it in his own sloppy way. That Jackson's evil, and Jin's just usin' you."

Ken blinked, his brows pulling together.

"And we took note of it, but you just brushed it off. I've been listening to you. We've all been watching you, waiting for you to tell us when you felt somethin' wrong. We all trust you to take care of yourself, but this is—Jesus, I should've fuckin' pushed you..."

"There's nothing you could've done." Ken looked at him suddenly, apprehensive. "What are you gonna do now?"

"Well, I gotta tell 'em, Ken."

"You can't," Ken said fiercely. "You said I could tell you in private!"

Lip tented his fingers over the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.

Ken slumped back in the seat again, crossing his arms and glaring out the window. His heart was pounding. How could he have been so out of touch with how Lip would react? Now he'd lost control of the situation. Of course the Australian couldn't keep it to himself.

"Tell Kel," Ken muttered at last. "Only Kel." Maybe Kel would get it. He was the most cool-headed one out of all of them.

Lip let out an explosive breath, nodding. "Okay. Let us talk about it tonight. All right?"

"Whatever."

"Ken. Hey. I should not have lost my cool like that, okay?"

"I'm not a baby," Ken grumbled. "I've been yelled at before."

"Not by me. I save that shit up for Mark and Dylan. It's not for you. I'm sorry."

"It's fine." He felt fucking awful the more he thought about it. The last thing he'd wanted to do was give Lip one more thing to worry about. "I know it's fucked up."

Lip shook his head, reaching over and putting a hand on Ken's shoulder. "We just cannot let anything happen to you, Ken." He shook his head, his forehead so full of worried creases it was like a maze. "Just can't."

"I know." Ken wondered if Lip was thinking about Aki, too. What the fuck would Aki do if Ken couldn't come out on top of this? He sighed yet again. "Can we get burgers?"

The Australian finally managed a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, mate."

#  18. Kel Sees a Bad Moon Rising

Kel walked down the long corridor toward Mark's office, considering all the possible ways the man would react to the news he was bringing. By the time he got to Mark's door, he was hoping for the best.

Mark looked up from his computer in surprise. "Hey."

There was no easy way to put it. "Jen wants to see you."

"What?"

Kel nodded, taking in Mark's shocked expression with more sympathy than he showed. It would only get worse. "Jackson called. He says it's fine."

Mark blinked at him for a moment, then leaned back abruptly in his chair. After a moment, he shook his head. "Why?"

"Because Giovanni's been working on her. And now she wants him to work on the parts that have to do with you."

Mark's handsome face went completely smooth. It always vaguely frustrated Kel that they'd stopped aging in their twenties. It made it look like they hadn't progressed at all since then. If he wanted to, he could look at Mark and pretend it was still five years ago, or six years ago, or eight years ago, when they were all still young and dumb enough to spend all their time fucking and fighting. Not that he didn't miss those days sometimes. He just wished they could move forward a little more.

Kel approved of Jen's decision, but he would save that piece of information for Lip. Meanwhile, he felt for Mark. Because it was sad.

"So," Mark said, his voice suddenly dry. "What does she need me for?"

"Sorry and goodbye."

"She's going to forget?" Mark's creamy brown skin was slowly going pale.

"Not forget. She's not giving up the loyalty. Just the romantic love, and the sexual obsession. His words," Kel clarified when Mark's brow creased.

For a second Mark was plainly just trying to process this news, and then all the strength drained out of him and he looked younger than ever. He slumped forward, crossing his arms on the desk and staring ahead, stricken. When his liquid brown eyes moved back up to Kel's, he asked, "This is her call? Kel?"

"I guess you can confirm that. As much as you're able."

Mark shook his head, looking down again. "It can't be," he said, almost to himself.

Kel studied him carefully. So far, Mark was taking it well. Another observer might have seen it differently, but Kel had known Mark for a long time. He'd known him in the lowest depths of his self-destructive episodes, from the drug binges to the cutting and the long disappearances and the suicide.

Yeah, Mark was taking this well. Kel came forward and sat in one of the chairs against the wall, prepared to do what he could to help the man continue that trend. This was a lot to take. Even Kel, who had seen the possibility of this outcome the moment he realized Jen was going to be in a house with an empath, needed a quiet moment after he heard the news. Fifteen _years_ those two had been at it. As long as Kel had known them. Ever since they were all drafted as teens by the small paramilitary operation that would later go down in a blaze—thanks to KGA, it turned out now—Mark and Jen had been obsessed with each other. A love that veered into mutual insanity, though none of them were grown enough to recognize it as such for several years.

But they were all wrapped up in it, in a way. There was a bond between all four of them, and the particular passion between Mark and Jen had become a part of them all, in a way. That was just the way it worked when Talents got so close. That was why, as frustrating as it was to watch that relationship rage along and warp them both, Kel couldn't blame them for not being able to let go. It was hard. Just like it was hard for him and Lip to lose Jen, even after all the damage she'd done. And it wasn't easy, now, to imagine that Jen's half of what she'd had with Mark was about to be deleted by some empath. Lip wasn't going to like it, either. None of them were able to like it. But there was sense in it. If it helped her move on and stay in control, it had to be done.

"Would you come with me?" Mark asked suddenly.

Kel's eyebrows went up slightly, but he nodded without hesitation.

"Does Lip know?"

"Not yet. I thought you might want to get it done first." Kel paused, then let it rest. He could have consulted Lip, of course. But Kel had his own way of being a friend, and he knew Mark would appreciate being the first to know, and being given the room to react independently. It was the least Kel could offer.

Jen was waiting in a hotel downtown. Kel went in first, at Mark's request, to get a read on the situation. She was dressed in the usual nondescript way they'd all gotten used to, clothes that could blend in anywhere—expensive but subdued, never too far in or out of fashion—and allow ease of movement if anything went down. For her it was black fitted jeans, a dark boatneck, discreet lace-up boots, her red hair secured in a loose braid over her shoulder. She was standing by the window and turned quickly to face him. There was no surprise on her face. Jen knew exactly who was around her at all times.

"Hey, Kel." Her elegant face was calm, her green eyes serious. She was pleased to see him, as always. Jen and Kel had never had any problems. No fights. No drama. They'd slept together on occasion over the years, but never wanted more. She trusted him in ways she trusted no one else. Emotionally, they were extreme opposites. Kel's feelings were concrete, solid, and even. Jen, like Mark, had whirlpools inside. Vortexes. Black holes. When they were all younger, Kel was fascinated by the depths of their emotions. Jealous, sometimes. Obviously that wasn't the case anymore. He only wished his own uncanny stability could be more of a help to her.

Kel joined her at the window, studying her carefully.

"You're making sure this is my idea." She smiled slightly.

"Of course," he said quietly, adding, "It's hard."

"I know." Jen looked down. The hotel's ambient lighting exaggerated the shadows of her long eyelashes, casting dark fans on her cheekbones. "Even I can't be completely sure. Living with them, with an empath." Her eyes flicked up to his again, raw for a moment—as quick to emote as ever. "Don't tell Mark that, please."

"He'll be thinking the same thing."

"But there's nothing to do about it, really." She shrugged her well-defined shoulders. "When I can't trust my own judgment to begin with." There was a pause. "And it makes sense to you, doesn't it?"

Kel nodded, even as he felt the furrow in his brow. "Yes. It does."

"Jackson says it was my empathy that got things all fucked up. That I got caught in a loop." Her expression flickered, her pert lips tightening for a moment, and she put a hand to her chest, spreading her fingers over the flat plane between her clavicle and her breasts like something pained her there. "And sucked him into it. So I was right. What he felt for me, I sucked it up and shot it back double, on and on." She took a breath. "Fucked us both up. I wish I'd..."

Kel nodded again as she trailed off. "We didn't know."

"Empathy's a bitch. The Talent, I mean. Obviously."

He smiled a little.

"I don't know how anyone lives with it. Without this kind of...structure, and..."

"It doesn't have to be like this forever," Kel said, seeing the unhappiness in her eyes. As much as she was benefitting from Jackson's rules and training, it wasn't the kind of life she'd ever wanted. She was a willing prisoner now. "You could learn to handle yourself. That's the idea."

"I don't know, Kel." But her face went calm again. Shaking her head, she glanced toward the door. "He doesn't have to come, if it's too much. Or if you think it's a bad idea."

"I don't." Kel shrugged. "Closure."

"Closure." She snorted softly, like the concept was a fanciful myth. "Exactly."

He put a hand on her shoulder, reassuring. "This is a good decision, Jen. Sad as it is."

She put her hand over his for a moment, nodding tiredly, and walked him to the door. "I'm going away for awhile, after this. I won't see you."

Kel paused at that with a frown, and turned his studious eyes on her again.

"Another good idea." Jen smiled. "Don't worry."

Something about this news nagged at him faintly, and he narrowed his eyes, examining her demeanor. She was calm. Confident. More at ease than he'd seen her in years. "Awhile?" he repeated.

"Awhile."

Kel was silent for a moment, and then he asked, quietly, "Would you lie to me, Jen?"

"No." She shook her head and then embraced him. He held her close, unable to do anything more with the quiet certainty that her remark would reveal some crucial importance later, and unable to guess whether that importance would be good or bad. In moments like that, especially with Jen, there was nothing to do but savor the calm at present and hope a storm wasn't on the way.

Mark didn't need more than a nod from Kel before he got out of the car and headed inside. Kel watched him cross the parking lot in all his cat-like grace, the dark, liquid quality that gave every move an elegant weight. He'd need some time after this, Kel knew, to cope. The timing could have been better...

Kel leaned back in the driver's seat and reached for his tablet, planning to wait and work until Mark and Jen were done. His phone rang. Lip.

"Yeah," Kel answered.

"Need to talk. Now."

The grim, cool fury in Lip's voice made Kel shift into full alert. "Trouble?"

"Not yet."

#  19. Not Trying to Make It Weird

By the time Ken got to the hotel, he was in his shittiest mood in recent memory. Tired, pissed off, and all out of fight. And for some reason, even though all of this was basically Jin's fault—or Jackson's, whatever—the only thing that kept floating up in his mind as a comfort was...

No. He wasn't even going to think that.

The room had been cleaned. Ken liked hotels, at least this one. They brought up good food, changed the sheets, kept the bathroom full of plush towels and the floor-to-ceiling windows gleaming. The glass door to the balcony was open, and Jin was outside, talking on his cell phone. He turned when Ken came into the room, and his smile flashed white in the dark.

Ken averted his eyes with a sudden clench of uneasiness, shedding his jacket and looking around the room for something to distract himself with. What the fuck was he doing here? Was this fucking lesson really that important?

Wait. Shit. It was.

Ken's heart sank. God, he was a fucking idiot. What was he thinking, having a talk like that with Lip right before he was all set to let Jin under his shields for the first time?

The whole plan had been to come over here cool and calm and collected, to test out his fake layers when he let the telepath in, to stay vigilant and make sure he didn't get too deep. Now he was all shaken up and off-kilter, and he felt like...not good. Not good at all.

This wouldn't work. The one thing he wanted most to learn, and he'd have to put it off. And after all the time he'd spent working up the nerve.

"Hey, heartbreaker." Jin swung himself around the steel doorframe, looking Ken over. The telepath was dressed in dark trousers and a white tee with the cuffs rolled up, a simple version of the scruffy lead singer look he'd veered toward since they'd moved to Los Angeles. His shaggy hair hadn't been dyed in awhile, and the dark roots were showing under the faded blue.

Ken didn't say anything. All he wanted to do was...

Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with him? He gave Jin a wide berth, heading for what looked like an unopened bottle of wine on the coffee table.

"Changed your mind, huh?" Jin said. "That's all right. You've got me used to rejection."

Still Ken couldn't say anything. He looked around for a corkscrew, feeling like he might lose it if he didn't find it in two seconds.

"Here." Jin came up beside him with the instrument in hand, taking the wine from him.

Robbed of his distraction, Ken looked for Jin's cigarettes. He spotted them on the little side table on the balcony and went straight for them, trying to get his bearings.

Why couldn't he even look Jin in the eye right now? What the hell? He could feel the telepath's curious blue eyes on him, gauging his mood. This was so stupid. He shouldn't have come. He grabbed the cigarettes and pulled one out, leaning against the railing and lighting up. He still didn't like the taste. He just needed something to do with his hands for a second. And with his mouth. He needed not to think for a minute. Not about Jackson, not about Jin. Definitely not about Jin, even though Jin was here, even though that was why he'd come, to see Jin.

Ken's head felt funny. Goddammit. He clenched his teeth against a wave of dizziness. What now? What the fuck was his Talent going to throw at him now? Or maybe it was just the cigarette. He threw it aside, setting his elbows on the railing and pressing his fingers to his brow.

No. It wasn't the cigarette. It was something about the conversation with Lip that was sickening him now. He couldn't forget the look on the blond's face when Ken voiced his suspicions, the way that horrified reaction had shocked him, then left him feeling so lost and full of dread.

_That Jin's just usin' you_.

"Hey." Jin was close behind him. His hand was on Ken's lower back, steadying. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." He couldn't storm out. That wouldn't make sense, just showing up and leaving without even working up the words to pick a fight. But he couldn't stay here, could he? Not with his guts all in a knot like this. Already Jin was seeing too much, probably guessing too much. God only knew. His hand was moving up Ken's back now, moving gently over his shoulders, giving him that weird feeling, like he wanted... "I changed my mind."

"I got that." Jin didn't sound disappointed. "Hey, if you're not in the mood, you're not in the mood."

Ken still had his fingers pressed to his forehead, his eyes closed, and he was letting Jin's hand slip up into his hair, caress the nape of his neck. Even though it was Jin's fault he felt like this in the first place. Or Jackson's. What _ever_. They were the same thing, weren't they? He wished it fucking felt like it. He wished it wasn't so fucking hard to resist Jin's arms coming around him now, coaxing him upright, wished it didn't feel so...what? Comforting? Wasn't that close to safe? This was the opposite of safe.

"Hey," Jin whispered, brushing the hair out his eyes where the wind kept blowing it across his face. The telepath was frowning at him, wearing that serious, focused look he got sometimes, like when he was explaining something about Talent to Ken. Shockingly patient, gentle, like he could be trusted. Even though he couldn't be. His thumb was soft on Ken's cheek.

What were they even doing? This wasn't how they _did_ this, normally. They normally fucked, just like the word sounded. Not like they were mean about it or anything—Jin was always attentive, even when he was cussing and doing it hard and acting like a big whore. And tender, yeah, when he could get away with it. But _this_ wasn't what they did. They didn't stand on the balcony just touching foreheads; Ken didn't just let Jin hold him and stroke his hair, what the hell was the point of that?

If only he could find it in him to spit out something rude, or smack Jin's hands away, or grab him by the hair to change the mood instead of just letting the telepath's lips come down on his so softly it made his mind melt for a second.

Soft. Slow. Jin kissed him like time wasn't happening, like he didn't care if it was all they did for the next hour. His arms were warm and smooth around Ken; his tongue tasted of tobacco and mint. His skin had that clean, unique smell Ken suddenly realized he might not ever forget, because he never forgot anything, really, but to think of Jin's scent being in his mental catalog forever was so unnerving he found himself holding onto the telepath's shoulders and kissing him back. He found his hands going into that wild, fried-out hair the way they never did unless he was really out of his mind, his thumbs tracing the tendons of his neck and the silky skin behind his earlobes the way he'd never even thought to do.

And all the while his thoughts were a slippery mess of uncertainty and dread and something so deep and tender and painful he almost couldn't take it, and the only escape was to let himself mold against Jin and just _give in_ for a minute.

Just for a minute.

But then he lost track of time and found his head on the telepath's shoulder, his nose pressed into the white cotton of his shirt, his lips against the muscle underneath.

"I like that you even thought about letting me under your shields," Jin said, his quiet voice close to Ken's ear. "Just for a second, even."

Ken felt a hole open and close in his chest. He swallowed. "I didn't, really," he lied.

Jin's soft, short laugh against his neck made him ache, and he didn't know why. Everything was all sideways and upside-down. The telepath's fingers, combing slowly through his hair, were spinning him around and around. Why was he letting this happen?

It was Jin who pulled away, though just enough to lift Ken's chin and search his face again. "You wanna lie down? Rest awhile?"

Why not. Why not? Why not just go to the bedroom with Jin's arm around his shoulders, and toe off his shoes and lie down? Why not. Why not let the telepath settle in beside him and turn on the flat screen TV at the foot of the of the bed, watch him flip to a nature channel and turn the volume down low before putting the remote down and sliding his arm around Ken? The crook of Jin's shoulder was more comfortable than he'd ever expected it to be. What difference would it make tonight whether Ken put up a fight, or let his arm slide around the telepath's slim waist where it made more sense to be?

Just usin' you.

What was the point of wondering? Ken let his eyes close as the narrator described the kelp forests of the Pacific Ocean, not thinking about the way Jin's heart beat steadily under his ear.

#  20. Mark and Dylan Never Say Die

Dylan's phone woke him up. He groaned softly and reached for it, pulling it close and rubbing his eyes before he squinted at the number. His eyebrows shot up.

"Mornin'," he answered.

"Hey. Morning." Mark always sounded so fucking good on the phone, with that smooth, dark, caramel voice.

"What've I done to deserve a wake-up call from the likes of you?" Dylan asked, a little hoarse from sleep, and pulled himself to sit half-upright against the pillows.

"You deserve a lot more than a wake-up call."

Dylan smirked and looked across the spacious room toward the windows, where the morning light was glowing through the vertical blinds, and the rushing sounds of the waves called softly through the glass.

"How've you been?" Mark sounded cautious, like he wasn't sure Dylan wanted to hear from him.

"I hate when you make polite small talk like you haven't had your tongue up my ass."

Mark started laughing before he finished the sentence, and when he replied, the caution had melted away. "Maybe it's been too long since I did that."

"Maybe?" Dylan snorted.

"I mean it, though," Mark said, turning earnest. "How are you?"

Dylan didn't answer for a moment, smiling ruefully at the concern in Mark's voice. "I'm all right, Marco. And how are you?"

"Been worse."

"That means nothin', on the scale of Mark."

"I've been worse _lately_."

"Glad to hear it." Dylan idly flipped over a pillow. "'Cause I heard what happened."

"With Jen?"

"Yeah, with Jen." Dylan frowned and raked a hand through his tangled hair. "Worried you might be feelin' a bit tormented."

"No." Mark said readily, firmly, like he'd been waiting for a chance to say it. "I'm not."

Dylan raised his eyebrows. "You're not?"

"No. I thought I would be. But I'm not. I'm fine. More than fine."

Dylan narrowed his eyes, skeptical. "Mark, you haven't been fine about Jen since the day I fuckin' met you."

"I know. But I didn't know how much of that was worry. I really fucking worried about her, and I was ashamed of giving up on her. It sounds stupid, but the fact that she doesn't need me anymore, knowing she's not wishing I was there, it's...I dunno. I just feel like I can think straight. It's not what I expected."

Dylan pondered this. It did make sense to him. Friendship had always come first for the all of them. Even between him and Mark, friendship came before any other kind of love, any other kind of attraction. It was why jealousy could never come between them, why they could drift apart and back together. The bonds between all of the Talents ran deep. Like family, really.

So he could understand how Mark's love and loyalty toward Jen had gotten compounded and confused over the years, how even once the romance was dead he would have found it difficult to disengage. And knowing Mark, he could understand how the sense that he'd abandoned Jen would have sent him down a spiral of obsession and self-flagellation. It made sense.

"Anyway, I'm all right," Mark said. "She's all right now, and I'm done with it. And I'm sorry, Dylan."

"I don't need an apology. You haven't done a single wrong to me."

"Maybe not a single wrong, but I haven't been there for you like I should have been."

"Says who?"

"Says me. Stop arguing and let me talk to you."

Dylan smiled a little. "Proceed."

"I miss you. That's what I really want to say. That I miss you, and I wish I was with you right now. And sorry just means I hope I haven't fucked up what we had."

"Aw, Mark." Dylan sighed heavily, but it wasn't an unhappy sigh. Just heavy, like the things they'd each been carrying. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up to cross the room, opening the blinds. "There's nothin' you could do to fuck up what we have. And you weren't the only one who wasn't there. I wasn't, either."

"That's not the same."

"It's the same enough," Dylan said. He pulled open the sliding door and leaned against the frame, breathing in the fresh air. "Enough that I won't ever be judgin' you again like I used to. Now that I know what it feels like to get lost in the muck like that."

Mark made a soft, ambivalent sound, but Dylan could tell he was just caught off guard.

"We've both had shit to figure out," Dylan said quietly. "I never doubted we'd come back together. You're my friend before anything else. Always will be. And I never doubted how much you care for me, Mark. Don't worry about that. But I do like you callin' to remind me. It's terribly fuckin' sweet."

Mark breathed a laugh. "You're really feeling better?"

"Better than _lately._ Don't get too excited."

"That's a start." Mark paused. "I just needed to call. I just want you to know I wish I'd given you more than I did. And I wanna make up for it."

"Sounds good to me," Dylan said, gazing out at the waves. "I could stand to make a few things up to you, too."

"I'll come around when I can. Maybe today."

"I'll be ready."

"All right," Mark laughed quietly. "Bye, Dylan. Say hi to Sky for me."

"I will. Bye, Marco."

Dylan lowered the phone and went back to bed, stretching out across the sheets and letting the cool sea breeze sweep over his skin

Not a bad start to the day. Maybe he could keep it going. Spending a lazy morning in bed seemed like a good first move.

# 

#  21. Jin Does Not Know What the

If it wasn't for the irresistible quiet of Ken's head, Jin definitely wouldn't have gotten any sleep. He was too fucking confused.

It was a shame, yeah, that he hadn't been able to get under the Ken's shields as he'd hoped. But somehow he'd accomplished something just about as mind-blowing. Or it seemed that way. _Something_ had changed, that was for sure, to allow for Ken's head against his chest, for Ken's arm around his waist, for the way the razor-wire demon had softened in his arms like they were his only refuge.

The _fuck_? Seriously. Thrilling as it was, he was kind of worried about the kid.

Ken was still asleep when Jin woke up, for once, his dark head tucked under Jin's chin, skinny shoulders rising and falling slowly with his breath.

Jin didn't want to wake him up. He had absolutely no expectation that the weird, peaceful intimacy of the night before would continue. It was far more likely that the kid would wake up with a fresh stock of daggers in his eyes, having slept off whatever'd gotten him so off-kilter the night before.

And that was fine, and everything. Jin was used to it. Enjoyed it as much as he always had.

But for now, he was sure as hell gonna soak _this_ up as long as he could get it. For all he knew, he might never get it again in his life. He'd certainly never had it before. Not even with Jackson—and not that he'd never felt this close to Jackson. But Jackson was a steel titan, his armor genetically a part of him. The precog could be gentle, but he would never be soft. Jackson could make Jin feel important, special, needed, even loved, sometimes, in a certain way. But not like this. Jackson could not give him this.

Probably because—fuck, _fuck_ it—probably because he was not in love with Jackson.

Ken stirred, and Jin observed every detail of his waking up. The grip of his arm tightening minutely, then loosening. The subtle shifting of his spine under Jin's palm, the difference in his breathing. The almost imperceptible brush of his lashes against Jin's collar when he opened his eyes. He waited for Ken to pull away, now that he was awake.

But Ken didn't pull away. Instead he turned his head and pressed his lips softly against Jin's neck.

Jin wondered if he was about to die. If maybe Jackson had missed something, and some black widow, praying mantis shit was about to go down. Because why else, how else? How the fuck. Ken's hands under his shirt, sliding up his back, moving through his hair, unbuttoning the jeans he'd slept in. How the fuck?

They said nothing. Ken pushed and tugged at their clothes, keeping his face hidden in the curve of Jin's neck; when Jin's shirt came off, Ken's lips touched his bare shoulder, resting there for a moment. Jin helped him get rid of his pants, running his hands along each stretch of skin as it was exposed. Then they were side by side and naked and Ken's body was wrapped around his, Ken's hands stroking his hair, Ken's breath soft and pleasured against his neck.

How the _fuck_? It didn't matter. Jin stroked him slow and gentle, breathing him in, holding him close, patient fingers tenderly working him open.

Finally he sank his cock into Ken's smooth ass with a low grown, stifling it in the curve of his neck. One of Ken's long legs was wrapped up high around Jin's waist, slim arms wound tight around his shoulders, skinny fingers entwined in his hair, lips gasping at the edge of his ear.

Jin found himself earnestly trying to speak with his body, working to soothe whatever it was that had gotten Ken so shaken up that he was willing to accept this kind of...whatever it was. Whatever it was, it wasn't what they usually did. And as right as it felt to Jin, he wanted to know it was right with Ken. If something in the kid had broken down, he just wanted to fix it.

Son of a bitch, he was hopeless, but _fuck it_.

He kissed Ken's neck, his cheek, his mouth, and swelled inside when he felt those hands clenching helplessly on his shoulders, the tremble that went through that slim, sharp body. Ken's head fell back; Jin kissed his throat, rocked him slow and steady, coaxed his tension along, worked it into peaks and dives that made low moans break from his lips, made his body beg.

"Ken," he whispered, burying his face in that white throat.

Ken came with a broken cry, crushing Jin in his arms. Jin didn't last a moment longer, gasping for breath as his final thrusts were caught up in Ken's convulsions, caught up in his urgent embrace.

It seemed to go on and on, throbbing, pulsing, melting. It seemed to swallow them.

Jin collapsed beside him at last, both of them limp and trembling and still entwined. His heart was pounding, and not only from exertion. Opening his eyes over the top of Ken's head, he stared, wide-eyed, into the quiet room.

_What_.

The _fuck_.

Was _that_?

Ken lay still and silent against him, his face hidden. Gradually his breathing steadied, and he finally withdrew his arms from around Jin's neck.

Jin squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and opened them again to watch Ken sit up on the edge of the bed.

_Shake it off_. So he'd fucking...made love, or whatever. _Shake it off._

He rose up on his elbow and looked at Ken's naked back, the faint constellations of scars, the fine edge of his turned-away face. "Hey," he said, his voice sounding as rough as if he'd just woken up from a dream.

Ken turned his head, pausing in profile before he shifted to meet Jin's eyes over his shoulder. The porcelain mask was back, but there were no daggers in his gaze.

Jin swallowed, not sure what to say for a moment, and then he raised his brows in question. "You okay?"

Ken nodded and turned away again, reaching for the tissues beside the bed. "Yeah." A pause. "Thanks."

With that, Ken began to get dressed.

This was where Jin was supposed to give him shit. Nag him to stick around. Follow him into the shower—wait, he wasn't even going to shower? _Ken_?—and drive him insane with a steady stream of questions and quips.

Instead he just sank back into the pillows, watching the kid put on his clothes, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

"I dunno," he said at last, as Ken sat down on a chair across the room to put on his socks. When those mismatched green eyes came back to his, he said, "I dunno if you seem okay."

Ken shrugged and looked away, leaning down to pull the socks on. "Shit on my mind," he muttered at last.

Jin sat up again, cross-legged under the sheets, and rubbed his neck with an uncertain grimace. "Something with your Talent?" he asked after a pause. "You need help? 'Cause..."

"No."

"All right." Jin squinted at him, considering. "Maybe you're trying to break up with me in a really, uncharacteristically nice way?"

That earned him a startled look, followed by the familiar expression Ken made when he was deciding whether to be annoyed or amused. This time, as was often the case, he went for both. "Idiot," Ken said under his breath, and reached down again to tie his shoes.

Jin relaxed considerably at that sign of life, leaning back on his elbows again. "Right," he snorted. "Like we'll ever break up."

Ken ignored that and rose to his feet. "Bye."

And just like that, Jin was alone.

Shaking his head, he climbed out of bed and went for the shower.

After all that, he didn't know whether to be excited or afraid. But there was definitely something weird going on.

#  22. Another Perfect Storm

Every morning, when the sleeping pill wore off, David awoke and realized that he would have to be conscious for at least another eighteen hours. That was up from sixteen: Despite Lip's best efforts to dose him with something that would resist his healing Talent, his tolerance was going up.

Today, eyes open and fixed on the white ceiling, he decided he might just stop taking them. He was tired of waking up. That was the entire point, wasn't it? He was tired of waking up. So then, why not just stay awake, so he didn't have to?

But then he changed his mind. Sleep didn't leave him refreshed, but there was that moment of relief when he drifted off at the end of each day, and that was one of the few pleasures he had now. So of course he'd take another sleeping pill tonight.

Until then, he'd just have to be conscious.

For another eighteen hours.

David closed his eyes as a rumble of despair threatened.

They kept saying he was getting better. And he was, he guessed. Moments of clarity came more and more frequently. There were times when he could talk to Aki or Ken, and although he didn't feel at all like himself, he felt like a human being—miserable, but not like some frantic embodiment of misery. To simply be depressed was a major improvement.

But still, some days were worse than others. Yesterday had been bad. Although talking to Lip had brought him into one of those moments when he felt like his feet could touch the ground, as soon as the Australian was gone he'd felt worse than ever.

On the worst days, nothing seemed real. The world and the people around him were like cardboard cutouts, or figurines behind a pane of glass. The panic attacks came in the worst moments of the worst days, when _he_ wasn't real. To do something as simple as looking at his own hands became terrifying. They seemed to be made of clay, or stone, when he knew they were supposed to be flesh. Everything was like that—everything wrong, no reality to trust.

It was a horrible way to feel. At such times he began to think that he was actually dead, that this really was Hell. And at those times he couldn't even be sure he had ever lived in the first place. Maybe he'd never gotten out of that casket, and this was all some kind of death-dream, and he'd never wake up. Maybe Luke had felt like this. Maybe he _was_ Luke.

Or maybe most of him was dead with Luke. Maybe this was all that was left, and he was forever mad. Maybe he was nothing, and there was nothing to be.

Now the panic rose slowly in his chest, gripping his lungs.

This was why he tried not to think. He couldn't take it. He couldn't take the reality of feeling like this, each day just another drop in the black ocean of time that surrounded him, and him just sinking, sinking, sinking forever, never hitting bottom, never—

David sat up stiffly, his breath coming hard and fast. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to hold back the panic, trying to tune out the roar of emptiness inside his head, trying to turn his back against the misery that closed around him like a fist whenever he dared to look inward.

The fits of rage had settled down thanks to Sky's efforts; the panic attacks were getting worse.

"David."

That low voice jolted David, and he looked up with wide eyes. They were blurry from the pressure of his hands, and for one terrifying moment—the pale face, the dark hair, the stillness—he thought it was Luke beside him. He realized his mistake quickly, but could not stop his moan of despair.

Ken was kneeling on the bed before him, staring at him intently, and he reached up to lay his hand on David's head. "You need Sky," he said quietly. "Come on. I'll take you."

"No." David went tense and stiff when Ken tried to pull him by the arm. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to act. He didn't want to _be_. He just wanted it all to stop. All of it. His heart was pounding like a drumroll—maybe it would stop. Maybe it would just fucking _stop_.

"I'm sorry, but you have to."

David squeezed his eyes shut as he was dragged from the bed, vaguely surprised by the very real feeling of Ken's arms locked around his waist, and how strong they were.

\- - -

Once Ken wrestled David out of the room, it was easier to force him down the hall and out the door. He pushed David into the passenger's seat as gently as he could and shut the door, his jaw clenched.

For the hundredth time, he wished he could just fix David's head himself. But it wasn't the kind of thing he'd handled when Aki and Jin had been down. It wasn't broken shields or strain or anything like that. It was just a bunch of some kind of emotion, he guessed, and that was why Sky could apparently deal with it.

Ken got behind the wheel and started the car, casting a worried glance toward the Irish boy, who was drawn up tight and tense in his seat, eyes shut, silent but for his soft, rapid breath. Shit. Why did Aki and Lip have to be at the stupid gym? Of all the mornings...suppressing a groan, he dialed Sky's number as he pulled out of the driveway.

"Ken." Sky answered immediately, sounding startled out of his wits. "Everything okay?"

"David's having a panic attack or something. I'm bringing him to Dylan's. You're there, right?"

"Y-yeah," Sky stammered, caught off guard. "Yeah. We're both here. Is he okay?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm bringing him."

"Well, I mean, is he, like..."

"Does it matter? He's in the car with me right now."

"Okay, uh, no. I guess...no. Okay. I'll be here."

"Thanks." Ken hung up and glanced at David again as he pulled onto the highway. No change. "David?" he ventured. No answer. But the next time he looked over, tears had started to streak down David's cheeks. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it really, really wasn't. As if he knew. He called Aki next.

"I'll meet you there," Aki said, sounding calm and reassuring. "It'll be fine. Thank you, Ken."

Like he needed a thank you. He couldn't stand seeing David all messed up. He just wished fixing it didn't involve having to go and see Sky. He'd just seen him a couple of days before.

And today? After last night, and this morning, with Jin, and whatever the hell had just gone down between them?

Ken shook his head to himself as he drove, knowing there was little hope that Sky wouldn't pick up on the weird emotional state he was in—if he hadn't already.

Whatever. Couldn't be helped. David needed help, and it couldn't wait. When Sky was done, if he had anything to say about Ken's stupid fucking eruption of feelings about Jin, they'd just have to deal with it. Somehow.

After a few miles on the road, David was still in the same twisted, panicked state, his face taut with whatever internal pain he was feeling, his eyes shut and his cheeks wet with tears.

Uncertainly, Ken reached over and touched his arm. "Hey," he murmured. "It won't take long. Sky's gonna fix it."

\- - -

Sky set his phone down beside his tea and ran his hands through his hair. Then he covered his face and let out a long breath.

So Ken was coming over. Now.

That morning Sky had woken up with his heart pounding. For weeks, Ken had tried his best to cut off the mental link they'd always had between them. And generally—especially with the distance between them when Sky was at ARSI—he did a good job. But Sky was still an empath, and they were still brothers, and the connection never completely went away.

So when Ken felt something really powerful, whether he liked it or not—whether he knew it or not—Sky sensed it. Sometimes just the faintest echo. Sometimes a loud crash. And for the last several weeks, every time he felt some burst of emotion from Ken—anger, or frustration, or interest, or pleasure, or _lust_ —he knew exactly who had caused it.

Last night it had felt like Ken stopped trying to cut him out. Maybe because he was so overwhelmed by the mixture of emotions raging through him, a storm of feeling like nothing he'd ever experienced. Confusion. Helplessness. Anger. Longing. Dread. Relief. And Sky had just lain in bed, fuming. Imagining them together. Feeling all that concern, all that attention, all those raw and honest feelings being wasted on that fucking telepath.

It just kept getting worse. Every week, every day that the others refused to intervene in the fucked up relationship that had formed between those two, it just got worse. And last night had been the worst yet.

Until this _morning_.

Sky knew what Ken was feeling now. He knew the feeling very well. And he wasn't going to name it, because this was _sick_.

It had to stop. It just had to.

The others didn't understand. They thought Ken could handle himself, that he was too strange and tough and cold to be manipulated. They didn't get it. They didn't know how sly Jin was, how cruel, clever, how seductive, how he could sneak under anyone's skin. Sky knew.

Which was why, over the past month, he had been unable to shake the thought of doing something he'd never seriously considered. Oh, he'd thought about it countless times. But he'd always been afraid he didn't have the skill to pull it off, afraid Ken would catch on immediately and never, ever forgive him. Ever.

Now, though, things were different. Now he'd been practicing. And now his worst fears were coming true. Now Ken was in trouble, just like Sky had warned he would be.

All morning, Sky had been staring into his tea, ruminating. Remembering how Ken had gone out of his way to clear Sky's name with the others, when he could have said nothing at all. Remembering the other night at Aki's, how Ken had shown up and spoken to him, when he could have easily avoided it.

Wishing Jin had never gotten in the way. Trying to come up with any other way to deal with this.

And then Ken called. And now he was coming over.

If that wasn't a sign...

\- - -

Dylan propped himself up against the balcony railing, sparking up a cigarette and exhaling with a massive sigh. It was a beautiful day. Lip was right—California wasn't so bad. Of course, it was right up Lip's alley, him being a fuckin' Malibu Ken doll, basically.

The sun wasn't yet high in the sky, but it was far enough above the hills to cast sparkles on the water. Yeah, it was a beautiful day. Too bad it sucked so bad for David.

Dylan had been enjoying his lazy morning when Sky knocked on his door to let him know Ken was on his way with David in tow. He promptly made himself scarce when he heard them pull up. Nobody needed to tell Dylan this wouldn't be the best time for a brotherly hello. He still hadn't seen David since the day he returned from the dead. And that day, David had wanted to tear him to pieces.

Suffice it to say, Dylan had not yet figured out how to get back on speaking terms with his brother. But for the time being, all he cared about was David being okay. Even if that alone seemed a long, long, sickeningly long way off.

Hearing the door slide open behind him, Dylan turned around with some surprise to see Ken stepping out on the balcony. "Mornin'," he said, furrowing his brow. "They okay down there?"

"Yeah." Ken's hair was damp, and he had a moody sort of look on his face. He crossed his arms like he was cold, then moved his hands to his pockets and looked out at the ocean. "I used your shower."

"That's fine," Dylan said distractedly. "You sure? You can leave 'em alone?"

"It's easier for Sky to concentrate that way." He paused, then grimaced faintly and said, "If you want me to go back..."

"No, just didn't know. Join me."

Slowly, Ken crossed the balcony and joined him at the railing. "Can I have one?"

Dylan scoffed mightily. "No, you can't fuckin' have one. Who's lettin' you smoke?" Not that they got cancer or anything. It just didn't seem proper to let a kid pick up the habit without kicking up at least a token fuss.

Ken looked blankly at him. "You sound like Lip."

"Take that to mean I'm right." Dylan eyed him curiously. When he'd left for Ireland, the kid had still been practically mute, withdrawn, always drifting along the sidelines like a suspicious alien. Now he was starting conversations? Damn. "Good to see you."

"You, too." But Ken's dark-and-light green eyes narrowed just the slightest bit as they slid over to appraise him again. "Aki's on his way. Should you leave?"

Dylan snorted, taken aback, though impressed. "No, lad. Don't think so. Unless he requested it."

Ken shrugged, unapologetic. "I don't know how it is."

"How about you and Sky?"

The response was a glowering silence, followed by another, more pointed shrug.

"O-kay." Dylan held up both hands in a mea culpa. So Ken hadn't exactly turned into a chatterbox. No surprise. "Never mind, then." Hearing a car pull into the driveway, he took another drag. "That must be Aki."

"What's the point of being vegan if you smoke cigarettes?"

"Ain't vegan, just vegetarian. And it's only 'cause I don't like dead animals in my mouth."

Ken raised his eyebrows just slightly, as if surprised by the sense in that.

The door slid open again a few minutes later, and they both turned around. Aki looked like he'd just been working out, dressed in navy gym pants and a sleeveless gray shirt, his short black hair unusually ruffled, and his color looked better than the last time Dylan had seen him. He looked good. Healthy.

"Hey," Dylan greeted.

"Hey." Aki gave him a nod and a perfectly neutral look, which was a heartwarming sign of progress. "I guess they're done." His dark eyes moved to Ken. "I'm gonna take David to the car." He looked back at Dylan and shrugged slightly. "Sorry."

Dylan shook his head. "Whatever works." By all fucking means.

Aki nodded and turned to go, but paused at the last minute and looked at Dylan again. "Sky seem okay to you this morning?"

"I was lazin' about all mornin'. Didn't really see 'im 'til Ken called. Why?"

"Seems upset. Maybe he's just tired. From this." Aki paused again. "Make sure he eats. Hang out with him. Please."

"Sure." He watched Aki disappear inside, and then shook his head. "Man's a fuckin' saint, I swear."

"Yeah." Ken suddenly looked very unhappy. His eyes went back to Dylan's cigarettes for a moment, and then he sighed and turned away. "I guess I'll go."

"I'll walk you out." Dylan studied him curiously as he followed him inside, wondering if he was unhappy about David, Sky, or something else. "Y'okay, lad?"

A grunt was Ken's only response, and Dylan gave up.

Sky was slumped on one of the stools at the bar that separated the open kitchen from the living room, nibbling on his thumb and staring into the distance with a grim look in his eyes. He looked up at them when they came downstairs, dropping his hand to his lap. "Hey."

"How you feelin'?" Dylan asked, looking him over. The blond did look unwell, although it wasn't quite tiredness that seemed to be behind it. In fact, he almost looked afraid.

"I'm okay. I think David's okay." Sky's blue-gray eyes flicked to Ken, nervous. "You leaving?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Ken paused. "Sorry to fuck up your morning."

"No," Sky said quickly, and shook his head. "Not at all. I'm glad you came."

Dylan tried to look like he wasn't paying attention, but shit, that was an awkward interaction. Like bad-blind-date awkward. Sky was like a different person in front of Ken. Insecure. Shifty. It even made Dylan uncomfortable. He wasn't one to talk about getting along with family at the moment, but damn if these two didn't have a long way to go before they could be in the same room.

When Ken turned to leave, Dylan felt tangibly relieved, like he'd just narrowly avoided witnessing a train wreck.

Except he hadn't.

Ken had just placed his hand on the edge of the door—Aki had left it ajar—when he suddenly froze. Right before Dylan's eyes, the kid went still as ice. Slowly, he turned around.

As his face came into view, the look in his eyes made Dylan's stomach drop.

Ken looked as shocked as Dylan had ever seen a person look, and that was saying something. The kid was stricken. Stunned. His eyes were wide and unbelieving; through them, Dylan could almost see his mind straining to wrap itself around some gutting realization.

"You okay?" Dylan asked, unsettled.

Ken didn't seem to hear him. His eyes, to Dylan's alarm, were brimming with tears. And then they moved past Dylan, looking back down the entryway and into the room where Sky still sat.

The atmosphere darkened like a storm had just rolled in, and a sense of dread flooded Dylan's system.

"Ken," he said calmly, and reached across his chest, preparing to stop him from doing whatever he might be about to do. But it was no use.

Ken shoved him off with startling ease, shot past him with surprising speed. Dylan didn't even have time to curse. He grabbed for Ken again, but he wasn't fast enough.

"Aki," Dylan shouted as he took chase.

"Ken, please—" Sky's plea was cut off as Ken grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the living room wall.

Then, agony.

Dylan stumbled against the counter just before he reached them, nearly crumpling to his knees. Pain was stabbing through his skull from all angles, pain so severe he felt like his brain might explode.

And then it was gone.

The pain disappeared as fast as it had come. It was over very quickly. Less than a few seconds, perhaps. But when Dylan straightened up, Sky was already limp and sliding to the floor, his blue-gray eyes wide and unseeing. Thin streams of blood trickled from his ears and nose.

"Jesus," Dylan breathed, sliding to his knees beside the lifeless blond and feeling for a pulse. "Jesus! Sky!"

Ken stumbled back, his hands still frozen in front of his chest where they'd taken hold of Sky. His eyes were fixed on his brother, uncomprehending.

#  23. Lights Out

Aki and David were standing beside the car when the pain hit them both. David fell to his knees; Aki caught himself on David's open door, gasping.

It was gone in just a few seconds, and it took him an extra moment to realize he was okay, that there was no reason to panic.

David stood up and Aki reached out to steady him, seeing with alarm that the twin had blood streaming from his ears and nose. "David?"

"I'm okay," David said roughly, and met his eyes with a deadly serious look. "Go inside."

Aki didn't need to be told. He tore into the house—slower, it seemed, than he was used to moving—and came to a stop at the edge of the kitchen.

Sky was crumpled against the wall, and Dylan was cradling his head. The blond wasn't moving, and his eyes were lifeless. Both men had blood streaming from their ears and nose. Aki could taste blood on his own lips now, and reached up to clear it with his forearm as he rounded the breakfast bar to reach the person who mattered.

Ken stood a few steps back from the other two, his eyes fixed on Sky in dazed horror, his hands raised in front of his chest as if he'd just been holding something there. He was the only one, it seemed, who wasn't bleeding. But before Aki's eyes, the younger man's skin took on an alarming pallor, and he started to shake.

"Ken," Aki said, taking him by the shoulders. "Hey. Look at me."

The kid looked at his own trembling hands instead, his breath coming at long, unsteady intervals.

Dylan made a sound of frustration. "Aki," he said. "Get David."

"You get him." Ken was clearly not okay, and Aki wasn't leaving him until he knew what was going on. But he knew what Dylan was thinking. All of the Irish brothers were healers. Among them, only Luke had ever brought someone back from the dead. But maybe if David and Dylan acted fast...

David's voice came from the entryway. "I'm here."

Aki glanced over his shoulder and then turned to watch as David approached Sky and Dylan. Ken's eyes were still fixed on his brother, and he couldn't be budged. Normally Aki would have been able to maneuver him, but he felt strangely weakened. Maybe because of the pain—or maybe it was just that Ken felt very, very strong.

David laid his hand on Sky's forehead and kept it there for several moments before he let it fall away. "I can't," he said, his voice flat. "I can't feel my Talent."

Couldn't feel his Talent? "Dylan?" Aki asked, his arm secured tightly around Ken's shoulders.

"Please, David," Dylan urged. "Try. Maybe the both of us can..."

David met his brother's eyes and stared at him for a long moment. Something painful was playing out in his expression.

"C'mon," Dylan begged, putting his hand on Sky's chest. "Please. He was _just_ fuckin' here."

Lowering his gaze again, David reached mechanically for Sky's forehead. But this time he gave up more quickly. "I can't," he said again. "I can't feel my Talent. It's not there." He paused. "I'm sorry."

"Ken?" Aki whispered, reaching up to cup the kid's face. "Hey. Ken." Jesus, the kid was in shock. But if there was a chance in hell he could summon the presence of mind to try his own hand at bringing Sky back...

David stood up and joined them, ignoring Aki and taking hold of Ken's chin so firmly that his fingers made dents in his cheeks. "Look at me," he said sharply.

To Aki's surprise, Ken actually met his eyes.

"Ken," David said, his voice hard and clear, but calm. "You know who I am?"

"Luke," Ken whispered, drawing every living pair of eyes sharply to him.

David snatched his hand back like he'd been burned. But then, with visible resolve, he reached up again and framed Ken's face in his hands. "No, Ken. Not Luke. Look at me."

Clearly startled by the reaction, Ken tried again. "David."

"That's right. I'm David. Who's this beside you?"

"Aki."

"Yeah. Good. That's very good." He moved his hands to Ken's shoulders. "I need you to turn around."

Ken blinked at him, then slowly turned.

"Good. Good, Ken." David urged him to complete the turn, keeping him from facing Sky again. "Walk forward."

Aki let David guide Ken out of the kitchen, impressed at how the Irish boy had stepped in to help. David had handled Luke this way, Aki knew, many, many, many times. When he saw that David was getting Ken toward the door, out of the house, he turned quickly and joined Dylan on the floor.

"What happened?" Aki asked quietly.

Dylan was sitting back on his heels, paler than ever, his hands tented over his mouth and nose as he stared dazedly at the fallen blond. Lowering his hands, he took a deep breath and shook his head. "Ken was on his way out. Stopped at the door. Looked like somebody knifed him in the back. Turned around, tears in his eyes, looked at Sky, and went at 'im. Sky said 'Ken please' and then the pain hit. When I looked up it was over."

"So fast," Aki breathed in dismay, staring down at Sky. Even as his lips curled in anger, tears pricked his eyes. "Goddammit, Sky."

"What?"

"Must have tried something stupid," he said, and shook his head. "Ken must've felt it. Fucking asshole." He felt his face crumpling and reached up to cover his mouth, fighting the lump in his throat. Stupid _idiot_.

"Hey." Dylan reached out and put a hand on Aki's shoulder. "Aki. I'll call the others. Okay? You go take care of Ken."

Aki pinched the bridge of his nose, then cleared the tears that had escaped and looked at Sky again.

Only now that the beautiful face was lifeless did Aki realize how expressive it had always been. Whether Sky was whining or yelling or doped up or whatever else, his heart had always been there for everyone to see. All his effort, all his hope, all his helpless suffering painted on his face.

"Such a fucking waste," Aki muttered. And now Ken would have to live with this, of all the fucked up things. Shaking his head, he looked up at Dylan again. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Go on. Nothin' you can do here." Dylan's hand squeezed Aki's shoulder. "Really sorry, Aki. I know you tried to treat 'im right."

Something about that remark hit home. Before he realized it, Aki had laid his own hand over Dylan's. He held it tightly for a moment before he stood up and went out the door.

Ken and David were standing outside the car, just as David and Aki had been moments ago. Ken was leaning back against it, slumped and still, staring at the ground. Before Aki could say anything, Ken surprised him by asking, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. David?"

"Fine," David repeated, watching Ken curiously. "Just my Talent."

Aki frowned. He felt different, too. "Ken? What about you? Your Talent?"

"It's fine." Ken's voice was as hoarse and weak as if he'd been screaming for hours.

"Should we call Jin?" David asked.

"I don't know," Aki murmured, studying Ken worriedly. Not five minutes had elapsed since Sky went down. He wished Lip was here already. The Australian had just left to meet Kel somewhere when Aki got Ken's call. He couldn't be far. "No. Not now. What happened, Ken? Did he do something to you?"

Ken's face crumpled immediately, and he ducked his head.

"Okay." Aki pulled him close. Jesus, he'd never seen Ken cry. It struck every protective nerve he had. "It's okay."

"Fuckin' idiot," David muttered, glancing toward the house with a grim shake of his head.

Aki shot him a look over Ken's shoulder, though not with much heat. No doubt the verdict on whether Sky had been an idiot today would be unanimous, as tasteless as it was to say it right at this moment. Anyway, all he worried about now was whether this could be fixed. If Ken could undo this, he needed to undo it. "Ken," he murmured. "You think you could bring him back now?"

Ken shook his head, his eyes still dazed. "There's no Talent," he said haltingly. "There's nothing..."

"That's all right, lad," David said softly, and reached up to smooth Ken's hair.

As if Aki needed to feel any more ill at ease, at that moment he couldn't possibly avoid thinking that David looked _exactly_ like Luke.

Just then they heard a pair of motorcycles tearing up the road at top speed. Aki couldn't have been more relieved to see the two riders pulling into the driveway. He let go of Ken as Lip and Kel came striding toward them.

"The fuck happened?" Lip asked, and reached up to touch the red smear on David's neck. "What's this?"

"Sky," Ken said suddenly. His voice was tight and unsteady. "Used his Talent on me. I was...he was really deep. Too deep. I pushed him out. I pushed too hard. I killed him."

"Je-sus," Lip breathed, and looked between Ken and Aki. "And the blood?"

"We felt it." Aki said. "Me, David, Dylan. And it feels like our Talents are gone." He hadn't really soaked that part in yet, other than to tell himself it had to be temporary. "Dylan's inside."

Lip and Kel exchanged a look, and Lip went quickly inside. Kel stepped forward and took Ken by the arm.

"We'll figure it out, Ken," Kel said calmly, his regal features as stoic as ever. He led Ken away from the car, toward a garden table that sat to the side of the house. "Let's sit down and take it easy for a minute."

Aki hung back with David, watching the Senegalese Talent walk Ken to a chair and then pull one up to sit beside him. Kel put a hand on Ken's shoulder and said something they couldn't hear. After a moment, Ken started to speak. Kel listened calmly, holding onto his shoulder.

"Never seen Kel do that," David said quietly.

"They always get along," Aki said. It was true Kel wasn't the friendly type, but he had always watched out for Ken, and Ken always seemed to enjoy him. Aki was glad he was back in the country and here to deal with this. His steady demeanor was always calming.

"Fuck me," David sighed. "What a fuckin' horror show."

Aki looked away from Ken and Kel to study David, perplexed. First he had looked like Luke. Now he looked like himself. His _old_ self. Or maybe Aki was just confused. There was too much going on. "Should we go inside?"

"S'pose so," David said, casting one last glance at Ken before he turned toward the house again.

Aki went along with him, baffled and on edge. Horror show, indeed. He just prayed it didn't get any worse.

#  24. Kel Watches the Weather

Kel sat down on the sofa in the corner of the living room, looking around at the others. Ken was sitting in a chair in the corner, staring into nothing. David was a few feet away from him, leaning against one of the beachfront windows, arms loosely crossed, watching the room. Dylan and Mark were out on the deck, talking in serious tones. Aki and Lip were over by the kitchen where Sky had first gone down.

It was almost one in the afternoon now, and the fallen empath had already been carried out of the house by a couple of ARSI agents. Lip had supervised, coming over afterward to quietly inform Kel that Sky's body was looking decidedly un-Talented. The blood was pooling, and rigor mortis was setting in. If they'd been hoping he might wake up on his own, that was now off the table.

Kel couldn't remember the last time they'd all been in the same place like this. He glanced at Ken again. He could see the kid had come back to his senses. The sharp intelligence had returned to his eyes, the stillness to his frame, and the opacity to his expression. Kel didn't doubt he was torn up inside, but it was unlikely he'd fall apart in front of them, if at all. And if what he'd done had tired him, it didn't show.

"My Talent's coming back," Aki said suddenly, and looked at David. "You?"

David paused, then nodded. Ken closed his eyes for a moment, and Kel saw him let out a soft breath.

"Good," Lip said, which was an understatement. Relief didn't cover the feeling that came over the room. The Australian looked at Kel, shaking his head helplessly, and then came over to join him on the couch. "David warned me," Lip said quietly. "Told me to keep an eye on Sky. I didn't know shit would go down this fast."

"They weren't alone," Kel pointed out. "Don't think anyone could have prevented it."

Lip shook his head and looked at Ken. "What was he tryin' to do, Ken?" he asked as gently as he could.

Ken didn't look at him, and didn't reply for a long moment. At last he mumbled, almost too quietly to hear, "Make me afraid of Jin." He paused, and just when they thought that was it, he added, "Trying to make me love him. Like he wanted."

Kel had never bonded with Sky. He'd done his own part to encourage the young empath, but Sky was terrified of his cool demeanor, and Kel wasn't able to do anything about that. His hopes for Sky had been modest, his apprehensions significant. It wasn't as if he'd never discussed, with Lip and Mark and Aki, the possibility that Sky could try something like this on Ken.

But that didn't dull the tragedy of it. Not only had Sky's life been cut short, but Ken had been betrayed, violated, and left with blood on his hands. Like the kid didn't have enough scars already. This wound wouldn't be easy to heal.

"I'm sorry, Ken," Lip said quietly.

"Thank you," Ken whispered. And then he stood up.

"Where you goin'?"

"Guest room."

They all watched him leave. Moments later, Mark and Dylan came in from the deck and found seats in the living room. Aki came and did the same. David stayed where he was.

"The kid's got somethin' major," Dylan said quietly. "Knockin' out Talents, you ever heard of that?"

Mark shook his head, looking tired and heartbroken. "Could have been a fluke. Sounds like he just reacted."

"An accident." Lip said. "But I don't think it was a fluke."

Kel nodded. Lip had debriefed him the night before, relating everything Ken had told him about his Talents and his situation. It wasn't surprising that Ken's abilities confounded their expectations. But it was worrying.

"You think there's any chance Sky could be brought back?" Aki asked.

Lip grimaced. "If he died without his Talent, it...doesn't look good."

"No wonder," Aki realized. "No wonder she sensed he could kill her."

"Makes sense," Mark murmured, staring at the kitchen floor with a hopeless, haunted look.

"But it was temporary," Dylan pointed out.

"Yeah, but we're alive," Aki said. "And it's been, what, three hours? Sky's already...I don't know."

Lip nodded, leaning forward and propping his chin in his hand, elbows on his knees.

"You think Jin knows?" Aki asked.

"About this?" Lip looked at him. "What's happened?"

"Any of it."

"I don't think so. Ken does a good job hiding things, even from Jin. Especially from Jin. And I don't think he knew before today."

"But Jackson would know."

Kel leaned back in the sofa, crossing his arms and looking fondly at Aki. The Japanese Talent was sharp, and it was good to see him getting back to his old self. "What if he does?"

"Then he'd either want to use Ken, or get rid of him." Aki pursed his lips, considering. "We should try and keep Jin at a distance until we know more."

Silence fell over the room, along with several pained looks. Lip, in particular, hung his head.

"Wouldn't that be rich," the Australian said bitterly, "if this was the day we started doin' what Sky wanted from the start."

A motorcycle started up outside.

Lip swore. Kel was already moving.

"Shit," he muttered as he stepped outside, looking around. The sound of Ken's engine—Lip's engine, actually—was fading down the highway, and Ken had wheeled the second bike somewhere out of sight to buy himself some time.

Kel strode out into the gravel, surveying the lot, and spotted his bike in the side yard, tucked behind the beach grass. He ran for it and jumped on, peeling out in pursuit and preparing for a chase. The kid drove like a maniac.

After a moment's consideration—last thing he really wanted to do was distract Ken from the road—Kel hit up the communication device in Lip's helmet. "Ken?"

No answer. But he waited.

The growl came a full thirty seconds later. "What?"

"Pull over for a minute."

"No."

"Then I stay on you." Kel waited for Ken to consider this, hoping he'd give in. They both knew who the better driver was.

A half-mile up Highway 101, on a lookout point set off of a straight stretch, Kel spotted Ken. He pulled up next to the kid, cut his engine, and took off his helmet, provoking Ken to do the same.

"What are you doing?" Kel asked.

Ken shrugged stiffly, a stubborn hardness in his eyes and a frown tugging the corners of his lips.

"You can't go off on your own today."

"I think that's exactly what I should do today."

"You know we can't do that," Kel said calmly. "When something like this happens, we keep track of each other. No way of knowing who might have heard what you just did with your Talent. Or who might have already seen it coming."

"You talked to Lip," Ken accused.

"Yes, I talked to Lip. And I'm on your side. You're doing fine. But you're not going off on your own today. I'll be tailing you matter what. So don't get too crazy. I don't need one of us crashing into a school bus while you're trying to lose me."

"I wouldn't crash into a school bus." Ken reached up and rubbed his eyes, scowling. "So, what? I'm under fucking surveillance now all the time?"

Kel shrugged. Probably.

"That's bullshit!" Ken snapped, and hurled his helmet to the ground. He got off the bike and threw his arms out angrily. "Can I have a single day without someone on my ass?" He kicked the helmet, which went sailing over the stone wall of the lookout and clattering down the cliff side to the beach below. The kid seemed caught off guard by that, but then turned to offer Kel a challenging glare anyway.

Poor Lip. First Ken had wrecked his favorite bike in Paris, and now his favorite helmet had gone over a cliff. Kel was thinking of what to say next when Ken sighed heavily, walked over to the stone wall, and reached over it. A few moments later he turned around holding the helmet, now scuffed and sandy.

"Great," Ken muttered, trying to smack the sand off. "Now Lip's gonna kill me."

Kel raised his eyebrows at the impromptu display of telekinesis. "Hope no one saw you do that."

"The beach is empty. I'm not stupid."

"I know that," Kel said patiently. The kid had never gotten an attitude with him before, but he was having an awful day, even by his standards. "Go on, then. I'll keep my distance. Just don't try to lose me, please."

"Fine." Ken was trying to use his jacket sleeve to wipe out the inside of the helmet. After a long pause he grumbled, "I'm sorry. Thanks for...whatever."

"I'm sorry about today."

Ken dropped the helmet to his side and let out a tired sigh, looking at the ground. "Should be sorry for him, since I fucking killed him." His voice went rough on the last words, and he bit his lips.

"I am sorry for him," Kel said. "And I'm sorry he did that to you. No one can blame you for defending yourself."

"How do you know I didn't mean to kill him?"

"Why would I think that?"

Ken turned his head toward the sea, rubbing his eyes. It was hard to tell if he was crying or not. "The way I always was with him."

"You never hurt him."

"Yes I did. Left him on his own."

"That wasn't your fault," Kel said firmly. "And neither is this. It was an accident."

"I could've killed..."

"You didn't. They're fine." Kel studied Ken. Never once had he doubted the kid's preternatural ability to look out for himself. But today, now, for once, standing in front of the huge ocean and rubbing his eyes to try and hide his tears, he looked almost as young and tired and lost as Kel figured he really was. "Where are you going, Ken?" he asked quietly. "You trying to be alone?"

Ken scoffed, like that was impossible.

"You gonna be okay if Jin finds you?"

Ken shook his head, and below his hand, Kel saw his lips contort—maybe a scowl, maybe a sob.

"How about getting something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry." That was the most disturbing thing Ken had ever said. And before Kel could try to convince him, the kid laid down the law. "I can take care of myself. Can I go? Please?"

"All right," Kel said. What else could he do? "But I'm staying with you. So don't get crazy, don't cut off communication, and don't go too far. Five miles. That's it."

"Jesus Christ," Ken muttered under his breath, and lifted the helmet. "Whatever."

And just like that, he was back on the road. Kel sighed and put his helmet on, pulling out after Ken and keeping his distance as promised. He was about to call back to Dylan's house to let them know all was well when Ken's voice came through suddenly.

"I only stopped 'cause it was you," Ken said gruffly. "Thanks." A pause, then, "Don't talk to me."

Kel smiled slightly, shaking his head, and watched Ken disappear around the next bend.

#  25. Closing Time

Jackson walked through the dim lobby of the hotel the telepath had invaded a month before, mildly surprised to see that the place was still in working order.

The telepath could wreak havoc on a hotel. First he would station himself in the most expensive room, using his Talent to convince the necessary staff and managers that all bills were paid and that he was a guest of the highest importance. The establishment would then become his own personal Versailles, with the employees and guests as his courtiers, at his beck and call. The more time he spent there, the more he'd make it his own—convincing the chef to change the menu on a whim, emptying the premises of any patrons who didn't please his eye, and plundering the liquor without ever thinking to help the staff account for the losses on the books. By the time he moved on, the place would be in shambles, and Jin could never resist, as a final touch, convincing everyone on the cleaning staff they'd seen some comically grotesque ghost haunting the bathrooms.

Jin was lurking in a dark corner of the bar, slouched in a leather wing chair by the plate-glass windows that overlooked the cove. His sharp blue eyes landed on Jackson at once, and he cocked a brow in surprise.

It was, as always, a pleasure to see Jin. Jackson was fonder of the telepath than he had ever been of any person, and almost any thing. Indeed, if his precognition were to disappear and he was left without that power, Jin would be the only pleasure left in the world left to remark on.

And though Jackson was now closing in on the dream to which he'd dedicated his life, his weakness for the telepath meant that victory would not be perfect. No, if there was one thing that could taint the glory of conquering KGA, it was the danger of one very unhappy, highly unpredictable Jin.

In fact, there was one thing yet that could still go wrong. Not to change the fate of KGA—things had gone too far for that, to Jackson's almost unbearable satisfaction. But Jin's fate, Jin's potential decisions, had never been more difficult to account for.

Up to this point, Jackson had been able to rely upon the thick cords of trust he had woven between himself and the telepath. There was a stock of certainty in such genuine trust, such loyalty. There was enough for Jackson to count on Jin's probabilities and count him in his predictions.

But without those elements, Jin was a wild card. Jackson knew that if Jin's devotion was shaken too badly, he could fly out of Jackson's control. Fortunately, his options for acting out would be severely limited. Once things were in motion, Jin would be helpless to interfere. He would rant, and rage, perhaps seek some petty form of vengeance. He would be angry about it for a long, long time. But Jackson had weathered all of that before.

There was, of course, a slight chance that this could permanently change things between them, that Jin might never completely forgive him. There was a _negligible_ chance that Jin would react in the utmost extreme. But Jackson wasn't one to dwell on miniscule possibilities.

"The King deigns to grace us with his presence," Jin said drolly as Jackson hooked the back of a chair and dragged it along on his way to Jin. Jackson saw now that the floor surrounding him was littered with empty bottles, and a bowl that was overflowing with cigarette buttes.

"How are you, Jin?" Jackson asked once he'd settled into his chair.

"Drink?"

"No, thank you."

Jin shrugged and sparked up a fresh cigarette.

"I take it you haven't seen Ken today."

Blue eyes flashed up to his, narrowing. "Not since this morning," he said tersely.

During the several months Jin had been assigned to trail Ken, he'd become increasingly cagey about the young Talent. That was not a surprise. Nor was it strictly an accident.

Jin had known from the beginning that Jackson had plans for Ken. But thanks to Giovanni's influence, Jin hadn't considered those plans in a long, long while. Empathy was an extraordinarily flexible Talent. When a thought was cleared of all emotional significance, it was as good as forgotten. In the months since Jin had grown attached to Ken, he had not once been able to ponder the ultimate goal of his mission: to secretly prepare Ken for a catastrophic confrontation with leadership of KGA.

But not even Jackson could tame a telepath completely, and he'd certainly never been able to tame Jin. There was only so much cognitive dissonance a brain as clean and sharp as Jin's could tolerate. There was only so much Giovanni could do without violating his teammate's mental sanctity.

Much like Ken, the telepath simply wasn't made to be manipulated. And the way he soured at the sound of Ken's name on Jackson's lips hinted that he already smelled a rat.

Jackson savored a few final moments of peace before he tipped the first domino.

"Ken has killed Sky," he revealed.

Jin looked at him sharply. "What?"

"Ken's perfectly all right, before you ask."

Jin's expression cooled again. "Killed Sky how?"

"What do you think Ken's most important Talent is?"

"Probably one I haven't figured out."

"Correct."

Jin raised his eyebrows, impatient.

"This morning, directly after leaving this hotel, Ken found David having a panic attack. He took him to see Sky. Ken was troubled and distracted, as you must have gathered. I suppose Sky saw it as an opening to intervene in Ken's affairs."

"You're shitting me." Jin's face went smooth.

"Sky attempted to influence him. Ken detected the invasion, and hit back—much like he did when Giovanni influenced him in Spain. Only this time he simultaneously paralyzed Sky's Talent, as well as the Talents of those present."

Jin's lips parted wordlessly.

"Sky was killed instantly. Dylan, David and Aki were unharmed, other than the loss of their Talents, which recovered within hours."

Jin leaned back in his chair. After a moment's thought, he raised his eyebrows. "Shit."

"Yes." Jackson smiled. He hardly had a more eloquent response to the majesty of Ken's coming-of-age. "You've done a magnificent job."

Jin squinted. "Me?"

"No one else could have trained him." _You earned more of his trust than you realize_ , Jackson thought, but he would not say this. Such sentiments could only make it worse later.

"I barely did anything."

"It may seem that way, but what he's done with your guidance is enormous. He is truly a prodigy."

The uncomfortable look returned to Jin's eyes, and he seemed to struggle with it for a moment. He shook his head, but something unsavory hovered on his face. "Shouldn't we all be shitting ourselves right now? If he practices that..."

"Ken doesn't need to practice. That's the nature of a prodigy of his level. Once, and it's as good as mastered." Jackson's heart warmed at the thought.

In his own way, he supposed he felt a kind of love for Ken, too. After all, aside from Jin, no one else had ever been so important to him, or offered so much. Today, when Ken demonstrated his readiness for battle, Jackson may as well have been a proud father.

"Okay, so?" Jin grimaced, looking at Jackson like he was an idiot. "What's your plan, chief? 'Cause it sounds like he can take out anybody he wants now. You need me to remind you we're pretty high up on his shit list?"

"We'll deal with that when the time comes."

"Whatever," Jin muttered, rolling his eyes before shooting Jackson another suspicious glare.

And so it began. "Is something the matter?"

"You tell me," Jin said. "You've got that look in your eye when you're about to say something that's gonna piss me off, and I'm not sure I'm in the fucking mood."

"Watch your tone." Boundaries were important when dealing with Jin. Jackson had never allowed the telepath to speak to him disrespectfully. When that line was pushed, it was a reliable sign of trouble.

"Jesus," Jin muttered, scowling and crossing his arms.

"We're going back east."

"Bye."

"We. Including you."

Jin looked up at him again, startled. His brow furrowed, his lips pursed, and then he scornfully spat out, " _Why_?"

"You'll see."

"Fuck me, I'll see."

"Excuse me?"

Jin shut his mouth firmly, stepping back in line, but he narrowed his eyes again.

"I know you've grown partial to California," Jackson said pointedly, warning him not to make this difficult.

"Well, if you want to get technical, I was already partial to California," Jin said brattily, referencing the fact that the wide open western states were far more comfortable for a telepath than the dense urban areas of the East Coast.

"Nevertheless, I gave you this freedom with the caveat that you would remember your real place."

"Gave me freedom. My real place." Jin snorted, his eyes completely without humor. "Jesus, I _am_ your slave."

Jackson couldn't help an inward sigh. Ken's influence had not made Jin any easier to deal with. "Whatever you'd like to call it, Jin."

"Sticking with slave."

"We leave tonight."

"Tonight, huh?"

"I led Lip to believe I'm calling you away while I consider what happened today. It's only natural I should consider Ken's abilities a potential threat."

Jin's lips twisted subtly. "Sure."

"Pack your things."

"Yes, master," Jin purred venomously, and got to his feet. The telepath stalked across the lobby with murder in his eyes.

Jackson got up a moment later, buttoning his jacket, and left Jin's corner of iniquity to saunter along the wall of glass, staring out at the waves crashing in the cove. He wondered if Jin knew how obvious it was that he was upset to be leaving Ken. If he did, it could only worsen his mood. Jin had never been as cold-hearted as he wished, but he worked hard to pretend he was. In their world, emotional attachment was far too profound a weakness to reveal. It didn't matter that his bond with Ken was public record. Jin would sooner die than admit that sentiment had any influence on his behavior.

When the telepath had dawdled long enough that Jackson could have ordered a scotch, he looked upward and considered things for a moment. Then he went to the elevator. The blaring sound of Joy Division was audible even from there.

The room, to Jackson's mild surprise, was not trashed. But then, this _was_ where Jin had been courting Ken. Jackson moved through the suite slowly, taking in the lack of damage.

Jin was stalking around the bedroom in nothing but his trunks, his hair wet from the shower, an open pint of whiskey in his hand. Jackson stopped beside the bed, hands in his pockets, and surveyed the scene—the open closet, the clothing flung over the furniture, the bottle of lubricant on the floor near the nightstand. "Jin."

"Yes, daddy?"

Jackson ignored that. "Are you going to make this difficult?"

"What's the rush?" The telepath prowled toward him, long muscles gleaming, and reached past Jackson for a pair of pants that lay at the foot of the bed. "Been fine without me for this long." Jin stepped into the pants and whisked them up over his narrow hips. "Or is she too loose for you, after all?"

"That's a disgusting remark." Jackson meant it. "Jealousy does not suit you."

Jin glared at him and grabbed a black tee shirt from the back of an armchair.

"I thought you'd be pleased to join us, considering how you've complained about being 'out of the loop.' What's this attitude about?"

"I told you." Jin pulled on the shirt and ruffled his own hair. "I can tell when you're gonna piss me off. You think those shields hide everything? I don't need telepathy to get in your head."

The remarks sparked a competitive heat somewhere low in Jackson's body. Par for the course with Jin. In two quick steps he had hooked the telepath around the waist, yanking him hard against his hip and gripping his hair. "Is that so?"

Jin purred, smirking coolly at Jackson, even as he shivered at the firm touch of Jackson's thumb against his throat. "Missed me, huh?"

Yes, there were tricks to handling Jin. Jackson pressed a bruising kiss to the telepath's relentless mouth, relishing the silence it bought. There wouldn't be much of that tonight. The telepath was too clever for his own good, and he was warming up for whatever he sensed Jackson was preparing to throw his way.

Jackson was warming up, too. In a matter of days, he'd have to sit the telepath down and reawaken him to the truth of what he'd been doing all these months. For the first time since his personal interest in Ken had taken hold, Jin would have to face the fact that he had unwittingly deceived and betrayed the young Talent who had, just as unwittingly, won his heart.

It would not be pretty.

Still gripping Jin's neck, Jackson looked down at his love-struck telepath. Then he looked past him, to the mattress and the rumpled bedding. Jackson knew what had been happening in this bed over the past few weeks, in this room. He knew how much Jin could accomplish with his body, that it must have served him well where his mind had failed to strip Ken's defenses away. And he knew that Jin, too, had been defeated in this bed, conquered and possessed by the very target he'd managed to strike.

Knowing all this, Jackson bore Jin down without pity, pinning his wrists to the mattress, invading a space reserved for someone else. He paused to take in the ripple of tense ambivalence that followed the length of the man's body. _Ambivalence_. Jackson smiled coolly.

Yes, Ken had made his mark—claimed parts of Jin that Jackson would never reach. Jackson had been braced for this. But there on the bed, feeling his telepath twitch beneath him with the thought of that strange, exquisite young man, Jackson couldn't deny that the jealousy was sour. He stared mercilessly into Jin's blue eyes. "Do you need space to mend your heart?"

The telepath's expression darkened severely. "Keep talking, Jackson," he murmured, baring his teeth.

Jackson adjusted his grip on the telepath's wrists, shifting them to one hand so that he could drag the other down Jin's arm to grip his chin. "Have you lost the heart for this?" he asked, his thumb rubbing a hard path along the edge of Jin's jaw. "Have you forgotten what we're doing? Forgotten Strauss and KGA?"

"You say the dumbest shit."

"Are you questioning my leadership?"

"Ownership."

Jackson lowered his gaze to Jin's sneering mouth. "He's inspired you to rebel, hm?"

For a moment Jin's discomfort was so obvious he looked ill. Once again Jackson's mention of Ken had made him cringe. Rather than retort, he merely exhaled and shook his head, threatening with his eyes.

Jackson felt a distant pang of guilt, a rather foreign sensation. He was pushing the telepath's trust to its limits. Past its limits.

"Come with me," Jackson said slowly, his grip softening on Jin's jaw. "To Vermont. With Rinzen, and Giovanni. We will discuss what lies ahead. Things are going very, very well."

Jin swallowed, his eyes still cold and suspicious. "Are they, now?"

"Get. Your things." Jackson eased his weight off of the younger man.

Jin sat up smoothly, shooting Jackson a moody look and picking up a black satchel that had been sitting against the armchair. Packed already—ever the professional. The telepath shrugged and stalked ahead of him, out the door.

Jackson pressed his fingertips to his forehead, sighing quietly and standing alone in the room for a moment before he followed Jin out to the car. They were accomplishing the impossible. Jackson knew he could not rationally wish that it could have been easier.

But sometimes he still did.

He did still wish it could have been easier.

#  26. A Complicated Eulogy

The day had just turned to evening at the beach house where Aki, David and Ken were living. Lip tossed his phone aside and leaned back into the cushions of the sofa, rubbing his face with both hands.

Ken was still out roaming, with Kel following close behind. Mark had gone off to brood somewhere, of course, but Dylan was gone, too—Lip hoped they were together. Aki had spent the morning running on the beach and then disappeared into the small personal gym in the basement. If he listened Lip could hear the quick smacks of his fists against the punching bags or the training dummy, and every so often a guttural shout of exertion. Only a physical Talent could train that hard, for that long—not only because of the stamina required, but the unnatural craving for exertion.

Lip, on the other hand, felt wiped out as it was. Nothing ever knocked him on his ass quite like tragedy, and though he'd been trying to dig his head into work all day, he couldn't stop thinking about Sky.

He laid his head back wearily, closing his eyes.

How could this have happened?

The front door opened, and he opened his eyes to find David walking in with a grocery bag. "Hey," he said, surprised. "Thought you were downstairs with Aki."

"No, went for food." David went to the kitchen and set the bag of groceries on the counter. "Grief'll make you hungry."

"You drove to the store alone?"

"Yeah." David started putting things away.

Lip stood up and crossed the room to stand at the table and watching David move around the kitchen. Something was very different about him. "How you feelin'?" Lip asked curiously.

David slid a carton of eggs into the refrigerator and straightened up, shutting the door and turning to Lip with a thoughtful frown. After a pause, he raised his eyebrows as if he himself was perplexed. "Better."

"You look it." Astonishingly so. The old life had returned to David's eyes, the quick expressiveness to his face. There was nothing flat about him now, none of that alarming hopelessness. "'Cause of what Ken did?"

"S'pose so." David rubbed the back of his neck, looking out the window with a faint grimace. "Maybe it knocked somethin' back into place. I dunno. Quite the event."

Lip nodded. Shit, wasn't this bittersweet? It was a very good thing if David was feeling better. But it was hard to feel good about anything with Sky dead.

"Aki's takin' it hard." David's eyes returned to Lip, and he cocked an eyebrow. "So are you, yeah?"

"It's hard to take."

"Never does get easier." David reached into the nearly empty grocery bag and pulled out a bottle of scotch. "Let's go see if we can get Aki away from that punchin' bag."

Lip nodded, amazed again by the change in David. It was almost like the clock had been turned back to before he died—though there was still something strange in his eyes, a vague hint of melancholy that was more reminiscent of Luke. Still, it was a far cry from two days before, when Lip had found him languishing in bed.

They descended the stairs, following the sound of Aki's fists. There he was, shirtless, pummeling one of ARSI's special-issue heavy bags, which had already grown soft and misshapen under his crisp, powerful strikes.

"Hey," David called.

Aki stepped back from the bag, tawny muscles glowing with just a hint of perspiration. One would never guess he'd been working out constantly since the evening after Sky's death, and Lip saw the same frustration in his eyes that Mark always got when he couldn't wear himself out.

"How you feelin', mate?" Lip asked curiously.

"Like shit," Aki said bluntly, and fired a sudden sidekick into the bag. It left a deep crater.

"C'mon." David said, and cocked his head toward the stairs. "Let's get some air."

Aki looked at David for the first time, and Lip saw the surprise in his eyes when he noticed the change in the Irish boy's demeanor. After a beat, Aki nodded and preceded them back up the stairs, grabbing a towel from a hook on his way out.

They all ended up on the deck. David sat down on one of two wooden chairs and set to pouring drinks on the little table between them. Aki stalked over to the railing and leaned back against it, his towel slung around his shoulders, his jaw tense. He accepted a glass from Lip with a curt nod.

Lip sat down beside David with his own drink, leaning back with a sigh. For several minutes all was silent except the sound of the surf.

It kept replaying in Lip's head, the moment he'd looked down and saw death settling into Sky's face. That creamy skin growing livid, those sensitive features going slack. Those wide blue-gray eyes gone dull. The dark trickles of blood turning sticky in his silky hair. The realization that he wasn't coming back.

Jesus, how could this have _happened_?

"You heard from Kel?" Aki asked.

"Yeah." Lip shook his head and rubbed his eyes, trying yet again to shake that memory. "Yeah, about fifteen minutes ago. Said Ken spent the night in a motel, slept late, hit the road again in the morning. Still just drivin' around."

"Poor kid," David murmured.

"I don't know what to say," Lip said. "Christ, I can't wrap my head around it. I can't believe he fuckin' did that."

"Ken?"

_"Sky_ ," Lip and Aki said in unison.

Aki shook his head, staring into his glass with a look of profound disappointment that was clearly not aimed at the scotch.

"Shouldn't have done that to Ken," Lip muttered. "Jesus, I was pullin' for him. I really thought he was gettin' it together."

"That's Sky," Aki said quietly. "As soon as you start to get on his side, he goes and does something you can't let go. Every time. _Every_ time."

"Can't even fuckin' _grieve_ for him," Lip said, distraught. "When he died doin' somethin' so unforgivable—Jesus. Why did he do that? _Fuck_." He set his glass down and propped his elbows on his knees, burying his head in his hands. "You warned me, David. I should've done somethin'."

"I dunno what you could've done," David said simply.

"We all should have done more," Aki said quietly. "We asked too much of him."

"Did we?" Lip lifted his head to look at Aki. "Was it so much to ask? Stop harassin' Ken? Don't use your empathy on your own fuckin' brother? Don't try and force him to feel things against his will?"

"He didn't get it," Aki said. "It's that simple. He never got it. Never had a chance to get it, and not one of us ever taught him."

"Mark tried."

"Mark?" Aki laughed, but his expression was grim. "Mark helped, but that wasn't what he needed. That wasn't _all_ he needed."

"What did he need, then?" David asked.

"A friend, maybe. One single friend, out of all of us." Aki seemed disgusted by the charges he was laying against them, against himself. "Mark never got to know Sky until he thought he had to. You think Sky ever forgot that? He knew he was never one of us. We treated him like a problem."

"No, you didn't," David said firmly. "I know you were kind to 'im."

"No, we _weren't_ ," Aki said. "We were _tolerant_. That was it. Did anyone ever see him when they didn't have to? Did anyone ever invite him out for a drink, or—"

"Who's been goin' out for drinks?" David shrugged. "There hasn't been much time for good times with new friends, lad."

"But he _needed_ it," Aki said sharply. "And we were all he had."

Lip's watched Aki with bleak dismay, cheek resting in his hand. Everything Aki was saying rang true. Terribly, painfully true.

"What did we expect? We know where he came from. Raised on drugs. Kept by pimps. All anybody ever wanted from him was sex. That's _it._ " Aki sliced a hand through the air. "How would he know how to be a brother, or a friend? We could have taught him, but we left him to figure it out on his own. Waved him off because we liked Ken better."

"Aki," Lip broke in. "That's not fair."

"No, it's _not_ fair." Aki's eyes glistened, and he looked away again. "But it's what happened."

"You can't be what everyone needs, Aki," David said gently.

_Jesus_ , Lip thought, startled. In that moment David looked, and sounded, _very_ much like Luke.

"You chose to put Ken first," the twin went on in the same soft voice, "and that was what _he_ needed. You did right by Ken. Don't be punishin' yourself for that."

Lip would have thought his grief-stricken mind was playing tricks on him, if only Aki didn't look just as dumbstruck. It was like Luke was sitting there. That was Luke's sweetly worried expression, Luke's rueful, adoring way of looking at Aki.

Then David shrugged, breaking the spell. "There's only so much of you to go around."

"You're right," Lip managed to say, tearing his eyes from David. "You're both right. We let Sky down. But we've all been overwhelmed. We're far from perfect, and it's been hell."

"Yeah," Aki said at last, still looking a little spooked for a second before he shook it off. "I know. I just..."

"I know," Lip agreed quietly. "I hear you, mate. Lookin' back on all the times I was tough on 'im, you're right. I wasn't always thinkin' about where he was comin' from. Jesus, he just slipped through the cracks."

Aki closed his eyes for a moment and let out a breath. "It was hard to deal with him," he admitted. "He wouldn't leave Ken alone. He wouldn't listen. And he really crossed the line sometimes. _Look_ at this."

"I know," Lip said.

"Sky was here the other night. And Ken showed up, on purpose, to say hello. You could _see_ it getting better. But as soon as Ken let down his guard..." Aki's forehead twisted in frustration again, and he shifted back into Japanese. "I can't forgive him. I can't."

"There's no excuse," David said. "He had to know it was wrong. And now Ken's the one who has to live with it."

"And it was _stupid_. If Jackson's empath couldn't sneak past Ken, how did Sky think he could? He had to know it could end like this."

Lip nodded gravely. There was no question about that. Sky himself had said he sensed that Ken could kill him. Surely Sky hadn't _wanted_ Ken to kill him?

"Yeah, he'd know Ken's strength better than anyone," David said. "Must have been desperate. Maybe he thought it was the only option."

"Never should have been an option," Aki muttered, brooding into his drink. "How could he possible justify it?"

And at that moment, Lip had a theory. The puzzle pieces fell on him like a cold, clammy rain, memories of his unsettling conversation with Ken the night before Sky's death. Ken's confession that he was locked in a game he did not know how to win. The grim resolve in his voice, the convictions Lip couldn't argue away.

Something had come loose in Ken during that talk. Some dark sense of inevitability unleashed. Lip had heard it, felt it. Wouldn't Sky have felt it, too?

Lip imagined Sky absorbing Ken's distress that night. Imagined Sky reckoning with the fact that even though Ken recognized the danger he was in, it seemed nothing could stop him from getting closer and closer to Jin.

_That_ was how Sky would have justified this—as the only hope of steering Ken away from the murky, indefinable threat on the horizon, after everything else had failed. This was how Sky might have convinced himself that forcing Ken to hate Jin and love him instead was anything but an unforgivable violation.

Shit. Lip closed his eyes. _Shit._

It shouldn't have happened this way. Sky's loneliness should not have been left to fester. This shouldn't have happened. He shouldn't have done this. He shouldn't have died.

When he opened his eyes, David was looking at him curiously.

"I just wish he hadn't done it," Lip muttered at last, unable to explain without breaking Ken's confidence. "And I wish he wasn't dead. I can't believe he's dead."

"I can't believe it, either," Aki murmured.

There was a long silence. Lip drained his whiskey.

"Do you really think there's no way to bring him back?" Aki asked.

Lip shook his head. With David, with Jen, and even with Luke, there was always that vague possibility—however remote—that one day they might come back. It had happened before. But this time... "Sky died without his Talent," he said slowly. "Only Talents come back to life."

"How do you know that?" David asked.

"There's something about the way we die." Lip sighed. "And it's not all of us. Some aren't strong enough, or mature enough. But those of us who are, our cells freeze in place. Even _that_ doesn't mean we can come back—there's got to be something there, some readiness of the mind—but physically, David, you were always ready to live again. Physically, maybe, so is..."

"Luke," David said.

"Yeah. There's the physical component. There's the mental component. And there's the presence of Talent. Sky died without his Talent. His cells have broken down. There's no way he's comin' back."

"Jesus, what a shame," David said. "I get your meanin', Aki, I do. Poor bastard never had a chance. Wish to God he could've had more time to learn."

"That's exactly it," Aki murmured, gloomy with regret.

"It's a cruel world when you get down to it," David said, refilling his drink and Lip's. He nodded toward Aki's glass.

Aki gave David another perplexed look as he stepped forward, although this time he didn't seem spooked. "David," he said, and then seemed to be at a loss for words. "You seem..."

"Better." David nodded. "I know. What about you?"

Aki nodded.

"You, too?" Lip asked, perking up. "What is it? Your Talent's back to what it used to be?"

"Not just that." Aki looked uncertain, like he didn't quite believe it yet. "My head. My shields. It all feels solid again."

"Je-sus, mate," Lip groaned softly, falling back in the chair with an overwhelming sense of relief. " _Jesus_ , I've been so worried about you both. Bloody hell, at least some good's come of this."

"It'd be nice to think so," David said, and raised an eyebrow. "Must admit I'm curious to see what that kid does next."

"I'm so worried about him," Aki muttered, scrubbing his face.

"Kel's with him," Lip said. "He'll be all right."

Lip's phone chimed in his pocket, and he rose with a sigh. "ARSI's callin'," he said. "Let's talk some more later."

"Thanks, Lip," Aki said.

"Don't thank me," Lip said as he went to the door.

Aki shook his head firmly. "I'm glad you're here."

"Yeah." Lip paused before he went inside. "Always easier when we stick together, hey?"

Both of the younger Talents nodded in a way that brought a rueful smile to Lip's face.

"Take it easy, both of you," he said. "Glad you're feelin' better. Let's be thankful for the good we can get."

With that, he went inside and got back to work.

# 

#  27. On Another Planet

"Mark, what the fuck are you doin'?"

Mark looked up in surprise as Dylan slid up to the bar next to him. The Irishman had come out of nowhere, dressed in a blue flannel button down, his dark hair wilder than usual from the wind outside, his green eyes wry and knowing. He looked more profoundly out of place in the grimy roadside bar than Mark did.

"Please don't tell me," Dylan said, taking Mark's glass of bourbon and pausing for a swallow, "you were plannin' on fuckin' one of these guys."

The burly and bearded bartender, drying a glass only two steps away, looked between them with a start.

Mark laughed under his breath and glanced around, chagrined. Yeah, he had been planning on it. The bikers who made up most of the crowd weren't Dylan's type, he knew, but Mark wasn't known for having narrow tastes. Anyway, Dylan had just blown his game up. "Hi," he said dryly.

Dylan swept his own gaze around the room, one eyebrow pointedly quirked, and looked at Mark again. "I'll pretend you forgot I was in town."

Mark reached up to rub his forehead. "No. I just..." Wanted something else. Fucking Dylan made bad things go away. Mark didn't deserve that tonight.

"This ain't that type of bar," the bartender said gruffly, planting his hands on the counter and staring Mark down.

Dylan snorted.

"He's kidding," Mark said.

"Yup, not to worry," Dylan confirmed, his eyes gleaming as he raised the glass again and exaggerated his accent to a cartoonish trill. "Nary an asshole to be eaten here tonight!"

The bartender straightened with a threatening glower.

Mark smirked in spite of himself and tossed a twenty onto the bar as he stood.

"Go find someplace else," the bartender growled.

"Twenty-first century's outside," Dylan informed him cheerily, jerking his thumb toward the door as Mark knocked him along with his shoulder.

As soon as they were outside, Dylan grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shoved him against the brick wall beside the door.

Mark groaned into the Irishman's mouth, feeling that familiar electricity rush through his lips, down his neck, straight to his cock. "You trying to get us into a brawl?"

"You'd love it." Dylan bit into his throat.

Fuck. Mark pushed him back, his blood already racing hot. "I'm—"

"Drunk on self-loathing," Dylan finished for him. "I know. Save it." The mischief in his eyes dimmed. "We both need somethin' whether you think you deserve it or not."

Mark let Dylan pull him away from the bar, across the parking lot and toward the car the Irishman had come in. "They're gonna fuck with my bike."

"Prolly just spray paint 'cocksucker' on the side." Dylan shrugged. "Free advertisin'. Get in."

Mark obeyed with a sigh, like he hadn't been hooked the moment Dylan walked in. He leaned back in the seat as Dylan pulled out of the parking lot.

There was no beating around the bush. Dylan turned serious as soon as they hit the road. "You didn't let 'im down, Mark. Get your head straight."

"I did let him down." Mark was not going to let Dylan make him feel better about this. "You weren't there and you don't know."

"I know you did more for 'im than anyone else did. Wasn't enough, but it ain't your fault."

"You weren't there, and you don't know," Mark repeated, his mood darkening further.

"You took 'im out of the things he was doin' wrong, and you put 'im somewhere he could do things right."

"I fucked him," Mark said. "That's all I did. He needed more than that, and I knew it."

"That's not all you did." Dylan shot Mark a glare. "And he _needed_ Ken to take long walks on the beach with 'im, which _wasn't_ gonna fuckin' happen."

"I should've been there."

"Every second?" Dylan's voice sparked with the special kind of irritation he reserved for Mark. "Every day? Come the fuck on. You wanna grieve, grieve. You _better_ grieve. But not like this."

"What difference does it make?"

"Difference between holin' up in a dark corner for the next six months to lick your wounds, or bein' here for the people who aren't dead. And don't tell me I don't know _this_ much, 'cause I really fuckin' do."

"Fine," Mark muttered tiredly, propping his elbow on the windowsill and rubbing his eyes. They passed the house. "Where are you going?"

"You're not fuckin' my brains out where Sky died. I know what I'm fuckin' doin'."

"Dylan," Mark said sharply. "I don't need you to clear my head."

"Yeah, you don't fuckin' want a clear head," Dylan shot back easily. "Too bad. I'm back now and it's gonna get fuckin' clear." He turned abruptly into the parking lot of a roadside motel less than a mile from the house. They'd all been staying in the same ten-mile perimeter since Sky's death.

Mark wanted to be stubborn. That was all he knew how to do. But Dylan had always been able to drag him against his instincts. There was just no hiding from him once he got like this. Grudgingly, he followed the Irishman out of the car.

"You really want me to fuck off, you're gonna have to get a lot meaner," Dylan said over his shoulder as he strode into the lobby. "A _lot_ meaner."

Mark waited outside, leaning back against the wall and rubbing his face with both hands.

Dylan was wrong. Mark had owed Sky more than he'd delivered. He'd made the troubled empath his responsibility, and he'd been too distracted by his own shit to deliver what his first efforts had promised. Not like he hadn't tried...

All right. Fine. Maybe Dylan wasn't wrong. Maybe he had given Sky all he could have given. Did that make it better? No. Sky's self-defeating assault on Ken couldn't have come out of nowhere. Mark was closest to Sky—he should have seen it coming. He should have kept him close.

And why had Sky left the sanctuary of ARSI in the first place? Because of Mark. Because Lip had reasoned, wisely, that Mark's wallowing over Jen was a threat to the empath's emotional stability. That was on Mark.

He should have done better. He should have _done_ _better_.

Dylan emerged from the lobby with a ring of keys on his finger and grabbed Mark by the sleeve like he had to force him to the room. Mark let himself be pulled along, let himself be pushed inside.

"Look," Dylan said as soon as the door clicked shut, standing in front of it and flicking on the light switch. He stared Mark down with emerald green eyes that stung with their earnestness. "I didn't want 'im to die. I liked 'im. I was gettin' on well with 'im, for your information."

"I know." He'd guessed. It hurt to think about it. Dylan would have been so fucking good for Sky. That unending well of kindness, the determination to fix people...this. What he was doing right now. He would have been such a good fucking friend to Sky.

_"Really well,_ Mark," Dylan said fiercely. There was pain in his eyes, too. Probably more than Mark showed in his own. "You know what we did the day before? Went out to see a fuckin' movie. Kid was laughin'. Tellin' stories. And I thought, 'Fuckin' hell, he's come a long way.'"

Mark closed his eyes and lowered his head, his forehead creasing. He'd thought the same thing. He remembered thinking the kid was finally on his way.

"I thought," Dylan said, "he was fine. I was right there with 'im, Mark. I was right there in the house with 'im, when Ken was on the way. And I knew somethin' was wrong, the way Ken looked. And I knew it for sure when Aki said somethin' was off with Sky. And I looked at Sky, just a minute before it happened, and I thought 'The kid doesn't look okay. He looks scared.' I heard 'em talk to each other and I thought, 'It's not right how he acts with the lad.' I was right between them when it _fuckin' happened_."

"Dylan," Mark murmured, letting out a long breath. Dylan always fucking did this. He always snapped Mark out of it, made him look around and admit that he didn't have an exclusive claim to darkness.

"No one. Could fucking. Stop it." Dylan enunciated each word, unmerciful. "Not you, not me, not Lip, not Ken. Nobody. Nobody but Sky. This is _not_ about _you_."

"Okay," Mark said suddenly, looking up at Dylan again. "Okay."

"So fuckin' be here with me." Dylan's shoulders dropped slightly. "I need it, too."

This time it was Mark who took Dylan by the shirt and pulled him in for a long, tender kiss. "Dylan," he breathed, his shame shifting to regret. "I'm sorry."

Dylan let his forehead drop to Mark's shoulder for a brief second before he grabbed the back of his tee shirt and pulled it over his head. Mark started on Dylan's buttons as the Irishman kissed him again, deep and searing.

Thank god he wasn't stuck with some damn biker. Thank fucking god Dylan was here. "I needed you back," he groaned, a belated confession.

"I know." Dylan shoved Mark back until he could push him down onto the bed, making short work of his shoes and stripping his pants off in seconds. Then he straightened and dragged his eyes down Mark's body as he unbuttoned his jeans.

Last time Dylan been thinner, wasted away from his exile. Now the muscle had returned to his long, sinewy frame, and Mark was thirsty for the sight of him. Fuck, Dylan was beautiful, from his startling eyes to his long, thick cock, now straining the fabric of his underwear as the jeans were pushed aside.

Mark sat up and pulled Dylan forward, sealing his mouth over the hard bulge, groaning hungrily when Dylan grabbed the back of his head and shoved his face in. Dylan always knew what to do, when to push, when to pull, how to melt Mark into nothing.

Dylan pulled his head back by a fistful of hair, just long enough to shove his trunks down. Mark choked on a groan as Dylan's smooth, hot shaft slid along his tongue, pushing against the back of his throat until Mark lengthened his neck and swallowed it down. He reached down to take his own hard cock in his fist.

"Fuck," Dylan groaned as he worked himself slowly in and out of Mark's throat. A gravelly laugh rumbled out of his chest. "God, I missed you, you fuckin' slut."

Lust shuddered through Mark like a shot of adrenaline. Before Dylan, Mark had tried every drug there was. One time with Dylan and he never bothered again.

Mark pulled the Irishman's hand out of his hair, yanked him onto the bed and flipped him over onto his stomach. He ran his palms up he backs of Dylan's thighs and spread them open, then bent to suck on a mouthful of Dylan's left buttock before he buried his face in his ass, tongue squirming hard against his hole.

Dylan gasped, reaching back to grab him by the hair again. His spine arched uncontrollably, his legs shaking, and he shoved his face into the crook of his elbow. "Filthy mother— _fuck!_ "

Mark soaked up the unrestrained ecstasy in Dylan's muffled shouts, letting it go to his head as he worked him open. Soon he was kissing a rough path up the Irishman's back as he twisted two fingers knuckle deep, blood pounding as he anticipated that tightness around his cock.

Dylan turned his face to the side, one green eye gazing at Mark, wicked and demanding. His full pink lips were moist and panting, and as Mark watched him, they curved into a hot smile.

"Perfect," Mark breathed, bowing over his body to bite into one pale, tense shoulder. He withdrew his fingers to pick up the small packet of lubricant Dylan had tossed onto the bed, laughing low in his throat when Dylan spread his knees. " _I'm_ the slut?"

_"The_ slut." Dylan rose up on an elbow, pulling Mark down for a dirty, demanding kiss.

Mark grabbed him by the chin to lock him there as he let the tip of his cock slide along the cleft of Dylan's ass. Dylan bucked back against him, demanding more, but Mark kept teasing, thrusting back and forth along Dylan's slick crack until his breath was shaking out of him.

"Put it in me," Dylan demanded through clenched teeth, "before I fuckin' make you."

Mark would call that bluff later. For now, he lined himself up with Dylan's glistening hole and pushed, soaking up every shiver as Dylan let him in, inch by inch. "Oh, Dylan," he breathed. "Shit."

A needful sound tore out of Dylan's throat and he reached up to slam his hands against the headboard, wiry arms rippling with tension.

"Gonna make you cry." Catching Dylan's earlobe between his lips, he ground his hips hard against that firm, smooth, constantly moving ass.

"Yes," Dylan sobbed. "Fuck!"

"Shh." Mark reached up to seal his palm over Dylan's mouth, pressing hot, firm kisses over his shoulders. "Fuck, _Dylan_."

Dylan fucked like his life depended on it, wielding that electrifying energy, that constant, impatient hunger, raw and wanton and irresistible. In truth it was all Mark could do to keep up. He rose up to grip the headboard as the Irishman rode him from below, watching the muscles dance under Dylan's pale skin as he threw his ass back with all his strength.

Christ, he wasn't going to let this go again.

"Fuck," Dylan gasped harshly. "Makin' me come, don't fuckin' stop."

Mark grabbed Dylan's hips and hauled them higher off the bed, giving Dylan room to reach down and stroke himself. Dylan's spine lengthened and arched, his thighs clenching tight as steel.

"Come." Mark spread his fingers over Dylan's hips, keeping up his hard, steady pace. "Let me feel it."

"Gonna fuckin' come, Mark, fuck..."

Mark pushed in hard and buckled as Dylan convulsed around him, their hips grinding wildly as they gasped and shook through it together. He reached out to rake Dylan's wild hair out of his eyes, wanting to see his twisted features. _Fuck._ The sight always sent Mark's head into space.

That was it. Finding Dylan's hand clenched in the sheets, Mark covered it with his own and buried his face in the back of his neck. He drove in a few more urgent thrusts, and then his own orgasm was shooting out of him so hard it made his eyes blur.

It was electric, the way Dylan made him come. It tore things out of him nothing else could reach.

Finally Mark collapsed into Dylan and rolled them to their sides, soaking up the other man's long, liquid moan of contentment. He smoothed one hand down the length of Dylan's body, gently kneading his thigh, soothing the shivering muscles.

God, he felt so okay when they were like this. So right in the head.

How did that work?

"Missed you," Dylan mumbled, slurring slightly.

"Missed you, too. Sorry I've been a shit."

"You fucked all the need for sorry out of this room, Marco."

Mark reached up to stroke his hair, humming ambivalently. "How 'bout you and David?"

"Hm." Dylan sighed, but stayed relaxed. "Maybe we can try to talk again. Soon."

"I think you can."

"I felt for Sky, y'know. That history with Ken."

"Not the same," Mark murmured. Dylan had run away from home when he was just a kid, choosing a life on the streets over the fists of his violently unhinged parents. It wasn't until he was in his twenties that he thought about going back to see if they were dead or in jail.

"I know. But I know the burden. Knowin' somebody needed you and you weren't there."

"But you didn't know," Mark said. "Didn't even know you had siblings. Anyway they loved you the minute they saw you." He could still remember the twins as teenagers, the adoration in their eyes for the big brother who'd come out of nowhere to snatch them out of that rotten house in the woods.

Dylan made a soft sound, a mix of agreement and regret. A lot had changed.

"I think things are gonna be okay," Mark said.

"Hope so."

Mark's phone buzzed on the floor, and he sighed mildly. He peeled himself away from Dylan's back and retrieved the phone from the pocket of his jeans. "Yeah," he answered.

"Hey," said Lip. "Where are you?"

"I'm at a motel with Dylan. A few miles up the highway from his place."

"Well, that's nice," Lip said, and it sounded like he wanted to sound happier about it than he did.

"What's up?"

Lip gave an enormous sigh that trailed into a groan.

"What?"

"I dunno, mate. I just..."

Recognizing the tone, Mark closed his eyes resignedly.

"I got a bad feelin'."

"Jesus," Mark muttered.

"Just stay in touch." Lip said. "I dunno. Maybe I'm wrong. Could just be...I dunno. I just got a bad feelin'."

"All right. We'll be here."

"Bye, Mark. Talk soon."

Mark hung up and set the phone aside, shaking his head. "Lip's got a bad feeling," he said at length.

"Yeah?" Dylan sighed. "Any chance it's just a couple days late?"

"I wouldn't bet on it."

Dylan was quiet for a second. "C'mere."

Mark turned back to him and laid a trail of kisses up his chest, trying not to think about how much worse things could get than they already were.

"Should we get off again before the sky falls?" Dylan murmured.

"Seems like a good idea," Mark said, and let Dylan shove him to his back.

#  28. Ken's Bad Trip

It was the second night after Sky's death, and Ken was still aimlessly driving his motorcycle through the Santa Monica mountains at the edge of the city. Navigating the twists and curves of these roads had become a habit of his since he'd moved to California with Aki and the others. And while he'd since moved on to tighter and more challenging routes deeper inland, for now he'd been told to stay close.

He hadn't been back to see them. Not even Aki. Kel stayed on his tail, vigilant—nothing Ken could do about that. The first night he'd grown exhausted just an hour after leaving the house. Kel followed him to a roadside motel just a few miles north, keeping his distance but probably staying within sight while Ken slept hard for about fourteen hours.

The next day Ken had woken up ravenous and gone into the adjoining diner, where he found Kel working on a tablet in a corner booth, talking quietly on his phone. Ken joined him and was glad when Kel didn't push him to talk. Didn't even comment when Ken ordered and consumed enough food for four truck drivers, plus a milkshake and a banana split.

Ken felt bad for not going back. He knew Aki was worried. He also knew Kel had no choice but to keep an eye on him, and there was no way Kel didn't have more important things to do. But Ken couldn't go back there any more than he could sit still now. He didn't want to be with anyone, not even Aki. He was grieving, he realized, and he'd never done that before, and he wanted to do it alone.

Sky's death had killed something inside him. He felt the cold shell of it deep in the back of his mind, a hollow, shapeless skeleton, right around the long-hated weak spot that had marked their empathic connection. Ken had always despised that spot like it was a malignant growth, had wanted to excise and cauterize it.

It was gone now. But the shock of its disappearance wasn't good. It was the first time Ken realized how warm it had been.

Ken felt shaken, almost derailed, by a sudden understanding of what Sky's presence had meant in his mind. Now that the spot was cold, he felt a chill all around it. There was a bleak and lonely feeling there unlike anything he'd ever felt. Even in the worst times of his objectively miserable life, when he'd been bashed and broken and torn to shreds, raped and taunted and mutilated, left to starve in darkness and grime, there had never been this lifeless hole in his mind.

It was only now that Sky was gone that Ken realized his brother had been keeping him warm, somehow, probably since the day he was born.

Ken ignored the buzzing of his phone in the pocket against his chest and stayed lost in the swooping turns of the road. Jin had called six times since it happened. Once that night and five times today. Fuck if Ken felt like talking to him right now. No. Things were confusing enough.

"Ken." Kel's voice came suddenly through the comm device in his helmet, startling him. "Rider just passed me. Coming up behind you."

"What?" Ken grimaced and glanced in his mirror, just in time to see the glow of a headlight cast around the bend behind him. He could hear an extra engine along with his own. A local dumbass, maybe. Or Jin. Same thing.

"Speed up. Let's get back to the city."

Ken frowned and did as he was told, picking up speed. "Okay."

"There's another one coming. Can you check them out without giving yourself away?"

Did Kel think the riders were Talents? Ken glanced in the mirror again. The road was full of turns, and they hadn't caught up close enough to spot directly. There was only the glow of headlights coming around the bends behind him. Scanning other minds was new to Ken, and he had a sudden, uneasy feeling that now wasn't the time to try something new. He'd never learned Jin's tricks of concealment. "I don't think I should."

"Okay. Just drive."

If Ken had felt cold before, he frosted over now. He knew how hypercognitives like Kel worked. They picked up signs, any signs, little signs, and calculated their sums. Their hunches, their suspicions, were based on wide-reaching observation and super-powered logic. Ken could put a few things together himself: Kel had a hunch these were Talents, and that these Talent were trouble.

"Still on you," Kel said. He'd never sounded this grim. Not in front of Ken. "Lose them."

The hard stone of dread grew in his chest. Just then, the riders narrowed in suddenly, one slightly behind the other. Ken was already pushing sixty miles per hour—nothing for him, usually, but they were coming up on the tightest twists and turns of Mulholland Drive. "Fine," he muttered, narrowing his eyes, and pushed the throttle.

That's when he felt it: The stab at his shields. It was a quick punch, and though it skittered off of him like a knife thrown at a brick wall, there was no mistaking its strength. "It's KGA," he said quickly. It had to be. "Telepath or something. Just hit my shields."

And he was fucked.

"Can they hear us?"

"I don't know," Ken replied, fuming at himself. Fucked. He was _fucked._ "Maybe not if you stay under your shields."

"Good," Kel said. "Stay calm."

"Yeah," Ken muttered.

He wanted to punch himself in the fucking mouth. He knew right away how he'd fucked up. Jin had _warned_ him to keep layers of thoughts running outside of his shields so that he wouldn't stand out as a blank spot to psychic Talents. Without those layers of unremarkable noise, his uncommonly silent mind could be a blip on the radar of any telepath or empath who caught sight of him.

But, fuck, he'd never gotten the hang of it. Had never liked doing it. Had put off practicing. And these past few days, as distracted as he'd been, who even fucking knew how secure his mind was from prying eyes? How could he have let himself lose focus like that? Never mind. There was no time to fix it now.

"Just keep going," Kel said. "I don't think they're onto me, but they will be if I keep up for much longer."

The first sharp turn came up and he tightened his focus on the bike and the road, gritting his teeth and cornering as tight as he dared. It would do no good to fly over the guardrail, but at least he knew this road by heart—maybe the KGA Talents couldn't outdrive him?

"Got it?"

"Yeah." Ken felt another stab, harder than the first, and tightened his grip on the bike. "No. Just felt him again."

"Stay calm," Kel said. "Focus. You've got this."

Fuck. A third stab felt like lightning striking his shields. It made his eyes blur, and he fought to keep the bike steady; the next turn came up too fast, and he swore as he nearly spun out, his back wheel skirting the edge of the road. He was still wobbling when the road straightened out, and the bikes caught up, nearly flanking him.

"Get back," he ordered Kel. "I can't drive like this."

"Listen to me," Kel said firmly. "Do not panic. No matter what happens. Got it?"

"Yes," Ken said impatiently, waiting for the next assault, trying to plan. "Just go."

"You're in control, Ken. You've _got_ _this_. Understand?"

He was going to reply when something stung him beneath his right ear, and he choked on his words.

"Ken?"

Ken couldn't answer. His right shoulder shuddered, convulsions creeping down his arm. His hand seized, and he lost his grip on the bike just before the perilous hairpin marking the Hollywood overlook. He hit the rear brake in desperation, but it was too late.

The sound of the crash filled Ken's ears as he went flying over the guardrail, soaring for a good few seconds before he smashed into the scrubby, dry earth in a tangled knot. Ken heard Kel calling his name through the receiver as he skidded down the slope, but his voice was almost drowned out by the rumble of rocks and dust. He tumbled for another few moments before he finally crashed against a large boulder, the earth scraping slowly against his helmet as he crumpled at its base.

The entire right side of his body was seized in convulsions now, and it was spreading over the rest of him. The fall had knocked the air out of him. "Drug," he tried to say, but it came out slurred and sluggish.

"What's your condition?" Kel asked.

The only sound he could make was a garbled moan. Frantically he tried to heal himself, to clear the drug from his veins, but it was too hard to focus. Writhing weakly, he felt for his shields. He was having a hard time telling if his eyes were even open. Everything was dark. He heard Kel's voice in his helmet, but it was all fading to black.

They'd actually found him. They were actually taking him down.

Was he fucked right now? Was he actually fucked? He couldn't be.

No, he couldn't be.

He _couldn't_ be...

#  29. Aki Sees Double

It was late at night and David had gone to bed. Lip had left the house to meet with Jack at one of the ARSI annexes close by. Aki was stepping out of the shower, feeling unbearably restless. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his neck, bent down, wrapped his arms around his knees, and straightened with a sigh. Apart from his brief rest with Lip and David, he'd been training for hours and hours. Even so, he couldn't stay still.

The euphoria of his sudden recovery was limited by the circumstances. Sky was dead. Ken was clearly upset, showing uncharacteristic signs of confusion and distress. And Lip had a bad feeling. Aki, too, had a sense of restless unease he couldn't decipher.

He had just changed into a pair of black jogging pants—might as well keep training—when he heard a creak outside his door. He looked up at the sound, waiting for a knock, and frowned when there was none. What was David doing?

Aki stood and crossed the room to open the door. And then he froze.

David and Luke were as different as the sun and the fucking moon. And it wasn't David who stood at his door looking slightly dazed, slightly faraway. It wasn't David who stepped into the room, slowly sidling around the door to stand close in front of him. It wasn't David who gazed at Aki in an uncertain kind of wonder, as if he'd just drifted out of some dark forest and was not sure where he was.

It wasn't David who reached up to brush his fingertips across Aki's cheek like he simply couldn't help himself.

Aki couldn't move. He was paralyzed by the eerie, sanguine sadness in those brilliant green eyes, by the faded softness of that pearly face. A shocked puff of air escaped his lips and for a moment he couldn't remember how to take another breath.

Luke shifted closer, tilting his head just slightly, his pink lips soft and shy just like the first time Aki had kissed him, and so many times after that. His dark eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks.

And then his mouth was there and Aki was kissing him. Aki had Luke in his arms and he was kissing him. And Luke was relaxing against him the way he did when he felt safe. Luke was with him, and he was...

Aki jerked away suddenly, but not far. His hands moved to David's shoulders, and he let out a taut breath. Tears stung his eyes and he squeezed them shut, hanging his head near David's chin and waiting for the world to stop spinning.

No. This wasn't real. This wasn't right. He had to stop it. He had to say David's name, snap him out of it. His features trembled and he opened his eyes.

Green eyes stared back at his, still drifting, still dazed. Maybe Aki had imagined that it wasn't David, but he couldn't let himself believe that it was Luke. Just an illusion. Just a dream, the shape of an impossible wish.

Aki shook his friend's shoulders. "David," he said, strangely disconnected from his own voice. " _David_."

The effect was instant. The Irish boy's demeanor shifted completely, like Luke's spirit had left his body. _No._ Aki couldn't think like that.

David looked startled, then confused. His eyes focused on Aki, and then a look of horror crept over his face.

"Oh, no," David said. "Aki, I'm sorry."

Aki didn't feel right.

"Jesus fuck, c'mere." David pulled Aki to the edge of the bed and sat with him, putting a hand on his back and then taking it away, unsure, only to put it back again. "God, Aki, I'm so sorry."

Aki swallowed. All he could see was Luke's face in front of him, the look in his eyes. That had been Luke, hadn't it? Luke in his arms. His chest lurched with regret, that he hadn't held him closer in that moment, that he'd stopped it.

"Aki."

No. It hadn't been Luke. And he should have been faster to stop it. Closing his eyes, Aki fought for the right thing to say. "I'm the one who's sorry," he managed. "You must have been sleepwalking."

David looked at him quickly, stricken. "You've got nothin' to be sorry for."

"I do." Aki opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, shaken and ashamed. "Sometimes I look at you, and I see him. I know better, but I let myself...I'm sorry."

"No, Aki. No."

Aki looked at David and found his handsome face tense in a way that made his stomach drop. David looked like he had something to confess. "What?"

"I didn't wanna tell you," David said, his forehead growing more furrowed by the minute. He'd never looked more like himself, or less like Luke.

"Jesus, David, tell me what?"

"'Cause I didn't think it was real. Didn't wanna confuse you with some fuckin' delusion." David blew out a breath, dropping his head. "I still don't wanna tell you, 'cause I can't explain it."

"Please," Aki said quietly. "Just say it."

"To start with." David looked like he dreaded Aki's reaction. "I've got Luke's Talent."

"What do you mean, you've got his Talent?"

"I thought it was just my imagination." David rubbed his hands on his knees, frowning at the floor like someone deep in the middle of a puzzle. "When I first came back, it was faint. Just feelings I'd get. But after Ken, it was there all the way. Empathy. Like it had always been there. And maybe it always was. Maybe it was repressed. But I think...I think it's him. I think it's his Talent in me. And I think there's more. Going back to when I woke up. I think some part of him...came back with me."

Aki took a slow, quiet breath and let it out, trying not to let himself react until he heard the rest.

"It wasn't clear at first. I'd feel things he'd feel. I'd remember things the way he'd remember them. I'd want things he'd want. But the night after Sky died..." David swallowed. It seemed like it was taking all of his courage to say all this out loud. "I dreamed about Luke like I've never dreamed before. Like he was _there._ Like he'd been _livin'_ there, in my head."

Aki pressed his fingers to his brow and massaged it slowly, trying to come to grips with what David was saying.

"These past two days, I catch myself driftin' into this place where it's like I...like I'm lookin' through his eyes. And I guess I...I guess, yeah, I was sleepwalkin'..."

"You guess?"

"I guess," David said quietly. "I was just...I thought I was fallin' asleep, and then...I just got up and started walkin'. And I wasn't me. But I wasn't completely him, either. I could—we could barely think. It was like being in one of his memories. Like dreamin' _for_ 'im, lookin' for somethin' he wanted...Christ, I don't know, Aki, that's why I couldn't tell you."

At least he sounded like David again. And not the David who'd come back from the dead as a hell-bound spirit, but the old David, steady and sharp. If this was real, if this was the warped reality they had come to, then at least David had his wits about him now. They could deal with this together.

"You've always been honest with me," Aki said at last. "Don't stop now, or we'll really be fucked."

"Yeah," David exhaled in relief, but his body language was stiff, half-defeated. "But I can't help bein' afraid any minute you'll be pushed too far with this shite. I dunno why you stick with us as it is."

"Why wouldn't I? You think I blame either of you for any of this?"

"I know you're too good to blame us. But Christ Aki, you've been draggin' me through the flames since I came back. Just like you did for him."

"No," Aki shot him down. "We're _fighting_. Both of us. And I'm fighting beside you because that's the only choice I believe in."

"Fightin' what? Ghosts?"

"Maybe. Ghosts, psychics, does it matter? We're fighting. And you're not alone, because I'm with you. _He_ wasn't alone, because I was there. That's the only thing that gives me peace."

David looked at him, his brow slightly furrowed, and then somehow, just with his jaded eyes, he conveyed more respect and gratitude than words could have done. Then he looked down at the floor. "Maybe it's not real," he said quietly. "And I'm just imaginin' it 'cause I want 'im back so bad. Maybe I am still mad."

"Maybe you're not." Aki put a hand on David's shoulder. "We'll figure this out. Whatever it is, how it could have happened, and what it means. We'll figure it out."

Just then his phone began to vibrate on the nightstand. David reached for it and passed it to him, and Aki answered on a sigh. "Lip."

"Get off the grid."

#  30. Jin Remembers Something

Jackson waited until he had Jin alone in the ludicrous log mansion where they'd posted up in Vermont. Then he said it was time to remember what he'd agreed to forget. That Ken was the Key. That Jin's relationship with him only served to prepare him for battle. That right at this moment, three thousand miles away, at least two KGA agents were in the act of picking him up.

Jin threw his beer bottle against the wall. Then he grabbed the next closest thing, a floor lamp, and hurled it at Jackson's head. The precognitive ducked casually. Jin clenched his fists, glaring at the older man in a wild fury, seething silently for a few moments. The beer dripped down the wall and onto the floor in a soft patter.

He'd never been so pissed off in his life. Never. Not the first time he'd been smacked as a kid. Not when Jackson told him he'd have to follow orders if he wanted to stay out of KGA. Jin had never even come close to being this pissed. He didn't even _recognize_ this feeling.

So Ken had been right to distrust him, to fight him. The whole time, the whole goddamn time Jin had been trailing Ken, training Ken, it had all been a ploy to use him against KGA. To send him _into_ KGA, so they could Trigger him, so he could explode like a human A-bomb.

And all Ken's suspicion hadn't saved him. His skepticism hadn't saved him. And _Jin_ hadn't...no. Jin was never _supposed_ to save him.

Of course Jackson's betrayal was perfectly executed. Somehow, he'd made Jin just as culpable as he was. Because Jin _had_ agreed to this. He hadn't been tricked. He'd agreed. The precognitive had told him: _You'll find the Key. You'll love him. And you'll have to let Vanni make you forget that you're going to betray him. Because you can't be loyal to both of us. You can't be allowed to second-guess the fact that we're just using the Key to take down KGA._

Using him. _Using him_ was a nice way to put it. They'd wired him up to explode.

And with Strauss...

Jin's stomach kept turning, over and over, like it wanted to swallow itself. Jackson was waiting for him to respond, like always. Waiting for Jin to process, to do whatever Jackson already knew he was going to do. Because he knew. He always knew.

Jin's anger was a lake of fire. Despair was a cloud of black smoke, rolling over the top.

"Fuck you, Jackson," he said at last. For all his rage, his voice was a barren whisper.

Still Jackson's patient expression didn't waver. "I understand your anger. But I was completely honest with you."

_"Fuck_ you, Jackson," Jin repeated, with more heat, and more poison. "You knew I didn't get it. You knew I wouldn't want this."

"Don't you?" Jackson asked simply. "Don't you want to take down Strauss and KGA? Don't you want to survive? I trust you still do, or I wouldn't be telling you this tonight. I wouldn't trust you to handle the truth."

Jackson's aim was sharp, as usual, but Jin gritted his teeth and tried to focus on pulling the rest of the details. "What about Ken? What happens to him?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

Jin said nothing for a moment. For the first time in several years, he imagined slitting the older man's throat and watching his perfect lips turn into a red bubble fountain as he bled out on the floor. It was hard to focus on anything else. He could never outthink Jackson on a good day, and couldn't even keep up when he was mad. The precognitive knew it. "Why not?"

"The same reason as always, Jin. Because I don't want your behavior to change the course of events we're counting on."

Jin hated the fucking future. He hated that Jackson knew it and he didn't. How could you fight a man who already knew your fate?

"He's not gonna make it," he guessed. It felt like the words took half his chest out with them.

Instead of answering, Jackson went for another riddle. "I'm surprised you'd underestimate—"

"Fuck off!" Jin burst out. Something snapped. "Fuck your shit, Jackson. Fuck this. Fuck your Talent, fuck your plan, fuck the future, fuck you." Shaking his head in disgust, he turned away. "Fuck it."

"Jin," Jackson said sharply, moving to follow him as he headed for the garage. "Wait."

Wait? Fuck waiting. Fuck it. Fuck it all. Fuck the prophecy. Fuck empaths. Fuck _them._ They were all fucked anyway.

"You're not considering going after him."

Jin didn't answer, opening the garage door and smacking the switch to hit the light. He wasn't considering anything. Details were beyond him when he got this pissed. He just needed to get away from Jackson. He needed to figure out what to do with this shit.

Jackson's voice grew harder. "Jin, stop."

There were four bikes lined up in the large garage for him, Jackson, Giovanni and Rinzen. Jin went straight for them and straddled one, reaching for the helmet hanging on the handlebars. He wasn't surprised when Jackson's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

Jin looked up and stared hard into the cool, mechanical face of the man who had earned his unconditional trust, simply by proving his God-like ability to predict the future and his dedication to wielding it against KGA. The smoke of despair rolled over him again. It made his eyes burn.

Jackson's sharp hazel eyes bored into him. "I'll tell you what happens to him," he said calmly.

Here came the part where Jackson gave ground to make Jin feel like he was winning, so he'd be easier to reason with. Jin knew this game. Did Jackson think he didn't? Whatever. They could play it one more time. Jin raised his eyebrows and jerked his shoulders, impatient.

"I've made you promises, Jin." Jackson's grip was tight on his wrist. "And I'm keeping them. I promised I'd never do anything to your mind without your consent. I promised I'd never send you back to KGA. I promised I'd sacrifice anything and anyone but the four of us to take them down. And I promised you could do as you liked when it was done."

"I remember," Jin growled.

"I know you love him," Jackson said. Jin jerked against Jackson's grip, but Jackson held fast and continued. "There are only a few certainties. Ken will be taken inside KGA headquarters. He'll meet Strauss. And he'll kill him, along with everyone else in the facility. I don't know how long it will take or how exactly it will unfold. But he'll be Triggered, and his reaction will destroy them all. Whatever is left to clean up, we'll have it taken care of with little trouble."

Jin felt a flicker of hope, but he swallowed it, and it was sour. "And then?"

Jackson studied him. "Your judgment is clouded," he said, a clinical diagnosis. "But you need to remember why this is necessary. This is the only way we can escape KGA. There is no other way the four of us would ever prevail against Wilhelm Strauss and the ranks of Talents around him. You need to remember we're on borrowed time. If KGA continues to exist, they will catch up to us within months, and we will lose. And not just us. The others, too, including Ken. Forget freedom. This is the only chance _any_ of us has to survive."

Fire and smoke. No thoughts. Just fire and smoke. "Fucking tell me, Jackson. I'm sick of your shit."

"I'll forgive that tonight," Jackson said, "and you'll forgive me for this. And perhaps, if the right things align, you can help rehabilitate him, if it's possible to do so. Because he will almost certainly leave in a coma, and most likely he'll have gone mad."

Jin's gut dropped, but he barely missed a beat. "He will _almost certainly_ come out of it," he growled. "And _most likely_ he'll have our fucking asses."

Jackson's eyes were grim. "You can't go to KGA."

"If you say so. You're the prophet." Jin jerked his hand back at last. "I'm just a creature of will."

"I can't predict you now, Jin." There was a peculiar edge to Jackson's voice. "Not this time."

Jin paused as he reached for his helmet.

"I can't predict you when you don't trust me. You're a wild card now. Don't leave under any illusion that I'm sure of your survival. If you run from me tonight, I don't know if you'll live or die."

Goosebumps were rising on his arms, but he ignored them. "Good," he said stiffly. "That's all I ever wanted. Your dick out of my destiny's ass for half a _fucking_ second."

In reality, Jackson's words shook him to the bone, and that pissed him off. He never planned on investing all his confidence in Jackson's stupid Talent, but here they were. Fuck. He pulled on his helmet and kicked the bike to life.

_Tell me you won't go to Toronto,_ Jackson thought, rather than raising his voice to be heard over the engine.

_No,_ Jin replied telepathically, and peeled out of the garage. _Stay here and fucking wonder._

\- - -

Jackson walked to the threshold of the garage, watching Jin's taillight shrink and flicker as he disappeared down the driveway, absorbed by the thick trees surrounding them.

His chest felt hollow, and he despised the feeling. No matter how often he'd told himself not to expect a perfect victory, the flaws were not easy to bear. This one, in particular, was a hard pill to swallow: That in a matter of moments, he'd lost Jin. And it was he himself who had cut the line.

He'd worked hard to ensure that Jin would stay close to him regardless of how he felt for Ken. He'd left the telepath no preferable choice. He'd bet on Jin's reluctance to leave the safety net of a precognitive's promises, on Jin's fear of Strauss and KGA. Despite the strain Jackson had placed on the telepath's trust, he had fooled himself into thinking there would be enough left, in the end, to keep him close—even if he couldn't predict him any more.

But the worst had happened. Jin had left his sight. The telepath was out of his control. The empty space he left behind made Jackson's skin prickle.

Still, he cooled his apprehensions. Jin would not go back to KGA. The telepath loved Ken, but he was not suicidal. He knew he was no match for the psychics there, and no match for Strauss. Perhaps he wouldn't sit idly by, either, but Jin had never been a strategist. If anything he would appeal to the other Talents, to see if Lip or Mark or Kel had some plan to help Ken that he could work with.

Very well. Jackson could use that. If the Talents distrusted Jin, they would cut him off from the action. To Jackson's disgust, he could only _hope_ he could make this happen. But hope, as flimsy as it was, offered a better probability than nothing.

The precognitive reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone, dialing Lip.

#  31. Jen Steps Up

Jen didn't entertain thoughts of redemption, or even penance. Helping Ken now wouldn't ease her guilt, and it wouldn't affect the damage she'd caused. There'd never be justice for those crimes. But when Jackson offered a chance to help the kid take down KGA, she took it.

Jackson had finally revealed his plan just days ago. It was her first time following the precognitive's orders, her first time agreeing to dive into a mission on the assurance that things would go the way he said they would go. Jen wasn't sure if she submitted because she trusted him or because she still didn't care much if she lived or died. Maybe both.

Under Jackson's orders, she had let herself be taken in by KGA. Her job was to act the part of the so-called Key, creating a diversion that would give Ken the room he needed to take KGA down.

Jackson had been conspicuously unclear on the details, particularly on what Ken's ultimate fate would be. That was a tough pill to swallow, but she believed the precog when he said the kid's capture was inevitable, and that this course of events was the most favorable possible. She could only imagine that Ken's survival hinged on a complicated balance of choices, timing and aid. If she had a chance to help him, she would take it.

At any rate, she believed in Jackson's plans. She believed in KGA's destruction. What else could she do? She was all in.

With Jackson's help, she'd hidden her real mission. Down in the dark depths, out of their reach, Jen knew why she was here in a KGA cell. She knew Ken would be arriving soon. But all of these thoughts were confined to a quiet, measured frequency hidden deep within her shields. On the surface, she merely contemplated her abduction and captivity with a measured mix of apprehension and defiance. Acting the part of the oblivious Key.

It was going well. KGA normally sent new Talents straight through intake, a neat assembly line of cruel tests and trials, but they'd held her aside. It could only mean they'd detected something different about her. Of course, her treatment wasn't so special that it was pleasant. Her clothes had been exchanged for a plain white shift, not unlike a hospital gown, that fell just below her hips. No undergarments. No shoes. Her hair was damp when she woke up, and it had been cut to her chin. The first step, she guessed, in breaking down her identity.

Assholes. She hoped they died screaming.

She'd been waiting in the cell for hours, arms crossed loosely over her knees, when the door opened with a soft swish.

There was no mistaking him. Wilhelm Strauss was an incredibly handsome man, with rich, neatly combed auburn hair and a lithe, graceful figure. His elegant face was warm and open, his blue eyes kind and curious. His friendly appearance, though plainly incongruous with his surroundings, was undeniably attractive, and his calm, careful gaze promised that he would be the type to listen, to understand.

Fucking creep.

"Jennifer." Strauss greeted her. He wore a crisp suit of dark gray, a pale gray shirt and a charcoal tie. His voice, like the rest of his demeanor, was gentle and inviting. He stepped fully into the room, coming to a stop several feet in front of her. Two telepaths in their late teens entered and took posts at either side of the door as it slid closed.

Jen didn't answer, staring in wait. She could feel the two younger psychics probing her.

"I'm Wilhelm Strauss. I'm the head of operations here, so to speak." Strauss cast a casual look about the room. "I hope you haven't been too uncomfortable, all things considered."

"I'd like to know why I'm here."

Strauss's eyes returned to her. "Of course." He smoothed the front of his jacket with one slender hand before slipping it into his pocket. "You're here because you caused one of our agents some alarm. Our organization, you see, is responsible for monitoring people like you—like us. Talents, as we say."

Jen watched him silently.

Strauss smiled his little smile again. "We have so much to discuss, and you must be tired of this room. Why don't we talk over dinner?"

Jen felt the nudge of his empathy compelling her to stand. He gestured for her to precede him into the stark white hallway with a sweep of his arm and a gentlemanly nod.

They walked side by side, the two Talents following behind, and the empath spoke as if they were all old friends. "I imagine this all seems strict to you. But it would be negligent to bring so much power into our facilities without making a careful study of it."

The long hallway branched off in a T. So far, the place matched the dizzying floor plan Jackson had given her—a map he warned her not to rely on, considering the empathic field designed to disorient any outsiders within KGA walls. There were no dead ends, only spirals, intersections and hidden loops. It was also huge, larger than it needed to be to hold the four to six hundred Talents associated with KGA, and certainly larger than was necessary to host the hundred or so within the walls of its headquarters at any given time.

"Just a moment, Jennifer," Strauss said, coming to a stop. "I want to show you something." There was a discreet metal slab on the wall to their left that she might have mistaken for a corporate design touch, until it slid upward to reveal a thick pane of glass.

An observation window. Jen braced herself.

The room behind the glass looked like something between a hospital nursery and a morgue. In it were rows of metal cots, thirty in total, lined with white paper sheets, and upon twenty-three of the sheets lay twenty-three naked men of all colors, their bodies lean and swift and strong. Their eyes were closed and they were still, but through the glass she could feel their life energy, and by the looks of them she knew they were Talents. They were tightly restrained at the ankles, wrists, hips, and chests. No sheets covered them; they lay fully exposed, and their stillness gave the room an air of atrocity.

None of them was Ken.

"Why are they naked?" she asked.

"We dispose of clothes and possessions during intake for precautionary reasons. And as long as they're unconscious, clothing is superfluous."

Jen crossed her arms. "Where are the women and the rest?"

"Not many women come through intake."

"Why not?"

A delicate thread of pain snaked up her spine and coiled in her mouth before dissolving on her lips. The lingering sting was unbearable, and she pressed her lips together.

Strauss smiled. "This organization learned early on that the female mind is a volatile host for Talent." He gave her a meaningful look. "I guess I don't need to tell you that."

Jen looked blankly at him. It was the first time she'd heard someone blame her madness on hormones. Jackson had told her KGA was regressive, but _really_. "So you don't bring them in."

"We do," he said simply. "But that's another system." The screen came gliding down, slowly eclipsing the rows of doomed Talents. "Come," Strauss said, gesturing again for her to walk on.

They turned left at the end of the corridor, down an identical white hallway, and then stepped into a large elevator with mirrored walls and unlabeled buttons. The two Talents entered after them and took posts in the corners, facing them but staring past.

"What happens to those Talents next?" Jen asked. She didn't bother hiding how repulsed she was by what she'd seen. It was what he'd expected.

"They'll be examined by our psychics, who will sort and tag them. Some will join our ranks."

"What about the rest?"

"We have a place for them, too." The elevator doors opened, and they entered yet another white hallway. "In the laboratories."

"And where do you suppose I'll end up?"

"That's exactly what I'm eager to find out." A door slid open ahead of them, to the left, and Strauss came to a stop before it, turning to bestow her with another gentle smile. "Who knows? Perhaps we'll have to make a new place for you. Until then you're welcome to make yourself at home here on our residential floor." He swept his arm toward the open door. "After you, Jennifer."

As Jen stepped through the doorway, she thought, deep down in the dark of her mind, of those doomed Talents. She thought of how they could have been Lip, or Mark, or Kel. They might as well have been. She was going to enjoy watching KGA burn.

#  32. Jin Does Jin

The wind whipped Jin's shirt so violently it stung his skin as he raced toward the interstate, but he didn't feel the cold. All he felt was rage. Rage. _Rage_.

The thought of Ken being taken by KGA pummeled him so furiously he couldn't feel out its details or its shape. Ken in intake, stripped and restrained. Ken meeting Strauss, being peeled apart. Ken being Triggered. Ken going mad.

Jin grit his teeth and pulled off at the next random turn, speeding down a dark side road for a moment before he slowed down and jumped off the bike, pacing the gritty asphalt in a mindless circle. He stopped and shoved his palms against his brows, chest heaving.

He'd agreed to this. Jackson was doing exactly what he'd promised to do. _More_ than he'd promised to do. The precognitive had found a way to destroy KGA without putting Jin, Giovanni, or Rinzen at risk.

All it took was sacrificing Ken.

Jin's stomach lurched. He sat down on the edge of the road. Jackson should have pulled him out sooner. A few nights sooner, before he'd found out what it was like to sleep with Ken settled in against his side, head on his chest and arm wrapped tight around his waist.

Maybe a few weeks sooner. Before he'd gotten those clothes off and learned the maps of scars that covered the smooth skin, white clouds and lines crisscrossing the sharp angles of his body from head to toe. Before he'd figured out how to make him laugh.

Maybe a couple of months...no, fuck it. Jin was in too deep the first time he saw Ken in in Paris.

Jackson hadn't convinced him to repress the whole plot for nothing: Jin would _never_ have knowingly fucked Ken over. Never.

How could Jackson do it? Maybe it was the only way to take down KGA—Jin didn't know. Jin wasn't the precognitive. But he was the one who'd spent all this time looking into those mismatched green eyes and feeling the power under that pale skin and he'd be _fucked_ if something so wicked and perfect was meant to be wasted on KGA.

But, so, what?

A despairing growl escaped through his clenched teeth. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't just run after Ken. Nobody was stupid enough to take on KGA directly. That's why Jackson was sending Ken in, instead of one of their own.

Fuck, it made him sick. Thinking of those weird, sharp eyes going dim, it made him sick. Strauss's empathic dynamite blowing holes in that beautiful mind, _fuck_ it made him _sick_ it made him want to _murder._ Strauss would ruin him. Ken wouldn't stand a chance. And if Ken hadn't been _Triggered_ yet in his life after all the shit he'd been through, then what, what the _fuck_ , would Strauss have to do to him to Trigger him now?

"Fuck!" Jin hissed, and jumped to his feet. He wanted to kill something. He wanted to annihilate something. He wanted to grab Ken and pin the kid beneath him in some safe, hidden place, let the world burn down around them.

Jackson's plans were foolproof. That was why Jin had trusted him all these years. Things always worked out the way Jackson planned. No one ever outthought him. Jin sure as hell couldn't. Telepaths didn't get to think ahead. Jin's logic and reason were constantly clouded by the present. He didn't have the cool, calculating foresight to find holes in Jackson's plans, much less launch a fucking rescue mission in fucking _KGA_.

And Jackson wouldn't have let him run off into the night if he thought there was a chance he could sabotage this plan.

What would it take to stop this? Jin couldn't get into KGA. What did they have at headquarters now? A hundred? He couldn't take on a hundred psychics. He couldn't take on ten. And even if he could, he wouldn't be able to take on Strauss.

A wave of hopelessness washed over him. Jin had shot Ken in the back, and there was no way to undo it.

But it couldn't be. No. It couldn't be. He couldn't accept it.

I can't predict you when you don't trust me.

The precognitive said himself that Jin was a wild card now. That meant there had to be _something_ he could change. Some small part of the future, if not the whole picture. Even if he couldn't stop Ken from going into KGA, if he couldn't stop him from confronting Strauss, there had to be some way to help him. Maybe even stop him from getting mangled beyond repair.

But how?

_The others._ Jin raked his hands through his hair, exhaling explosively and trying to focus. The others. Kel was inside with Ken. And Aki, Lip, and Mark, they'd be planning a rescue mission, wouldn't they? Of course they would. They were all dumb enough, stubborn enough, and loyal enough to bring their muscles to a psychic fight. It would be madness, but the ARSI Talents had surprised him before.

Jin returned to the bike and sat astride it, stiff with fury, and felt his phone vibrating in his jacket pocket. He let out a long, angry breath and pulled it out. An encrypted number. He wondered who. Aki? He'd be calling soon, if he wasn't already. Jin wasn't a precog, but he knew that much.

Did Jackson trust him not to give this game away? Or was he betting it wouldn't matter? Was the precognitive working against him right this minute? Was he rearranging pieces on the board, turning the other Talents against him, pulling out all the tricks he could think of to keep his prize telepath from entering a war for an outsider?

Probably. Probably it was already war. And in a war with Jackson, being a wild card was the only advantage Jin had. All he could do was follow his impulses, follow them hard.

And his stupid, lovesick impulses were screaming at him to get to Ken before they could destroy him and his giant Talent and his fucked-up perfect mind and that wild pride in his eyes.

Fuck it. Jin answered the phone. "Yeah." His voice came out jagged.

"Jin." Aki's voice was like black napalm. "What the fuck."

_"I know_ ," Jin bit out. "Okay, I know. Meet me in Detroit."

#  33. Lip Gets Real

Lip sat in one of the blue vinyl armchairs in the lobby of an ARSI annex, his eyes fixed on a large flat-screen TV situated high on the wall in front of him. A small remote was in his hand, and he was using it to flick quickly through pages of intelligence on KGA. Two of ARSI's best agents were with him, and more on the way. Mark, Dylan, David and Aki would arrive any second.

He was paging between the maps they had of various KGA headquarters when in walked Jack Green, the top ARSI agent who had been present the night Jen and David woke up. Lip looked at him and beckoned him sharply. Jack pulled a chair closer to him and sat down, at attention. He was a tall, strapping man with dark hair and a plain, stoic face, the top of his class in every subject, obsessed with Talent, always eager to be involved in whatever Lip, Kel and Mark were up to.

"KGA's got Ken and Kel," Lip said. "Two agents on motorcycles flanked Ken while he was on my bike up on Mulholland. Kel was trailing Ken at the time. They shot Ken with a sedative. He lost control and crashed over the Hollywood overlook. Kel called me at this point. He was blending in with about a dozen tourists at the overlook, watching the agents approach Ken. When the psychics swept the crowd to erase their own footsteps, they detected Kel. Fight was brief. They drugged him, too. Took them both."

Jack nodded, frowning intently.

"According to Kel, KGA moved headquarters to Toronto recently, after Strauss heard Jackson and Jin were in North America." Lip was still flicking between maps, looking for patterns. "That's probably where they're headed. Jackson's left town, too, along with Jin and the rest of the team. He called me the night after Sky died to let me know. Blamed it on Ken's display of Talent, said he wanted to pull Jin away until more was known. He declined to tell me where they were going. Kel said they'd likely head to Michigan or Vermont—closer to Toronto than here, but areas where KGA's presence is thinner."

Mark entered the room quickly, followed by Dylan. Lip nodded to them and they came to stand at his other side, half-facing the screen.

"You think Jackson's involved in this?" Jack asked.

"Yes. The night before Sky died, Jen told Kel she was going away for awhile. Declined to say where. That same night, Ken told _me_ that Jackson plans to use him to take down KGA. He also told me about his training with Jin. These are Ken's Talents, as far as I know. He can heal himself and has recovered from death on his own at least once. He can heal others, including, to some extent, psychic damage. He's a pyrokinetic. He's a telekinetic. He has some significant degree of telepathic ability. He believes he may also be a precognitive. He can incapacitate Talents."

"Jesus fuckin' mother of Christ," Dylan murmured, his eyebrows shooting up. "How's all that even fit inside the wee bastard?"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Mark asked, his brow furrowed.

"It wasn't easy to get that out of Ken," Lip said readily. "I swore I'd only tell Kel. He worried the more we knew about what he was really thinking, the more there'd be for Jin and Jackson to read. Kel agreed with him. I gotta admit I see the sense in it."

Mark nodded, accepting this.

"But now it's all out there." Lip rubbed his hands together, still focused on the screen. "We don't have a map of Toronto headquarters. All we know is KGA goes for labyrinthine designs. Hidden rooms. Trick corridors. False levels. Confusing angles. And an empathic field meant to disorient all but the highest level psychics."

Jack's phone buzzed in his hand and he glanced at it. "New lines are ready."

Lip reached for his own phone now that the coast was clear. He hit speaker and dialed Jackson.

"Hello," Jackson answered.

"It's Lip."

"Ah. I tried to reach you. You re-encrypted your communication lines."

"I assume you know why."

"I do, and I'll share with you what I know from my visions. Ken and Kel are being taken to KGA's current headquarters in Toronto. They'll undergo all the usual intake procedures. Needless to say, Ken won't tolerate it for long. He will react with a catastrophic manifestation of his Talent, incapacitating every Talent at KGA."

Lip ran his hands over his hair. Knew it. He fucking knew it. "How long have you known this?"

"For well over a decade, just as I've known that Strauss would take control of KGA this year, and that Ken would be powerful enough to defeat him. And that Jennifer Mitchell would lose her mind, that I would rehabilitate her, that she would offer crucial support in taking down KGA."

A chill went through Lip's blood. He looked at Mark, at Dylan, and saw the same in their eyes. "What support?" Lip demanded.

"I sent her into KGA days ago. She's inside now, diverting attention from Ken for as long as possible. She'll provide technical support and extract him once it's over."

Lip slowly leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees, closed his eyes, and tented his fingers in front of his forehead _._ "What's Jin's role in all of this?"

"I sent Jin to observe Ken and prepare him as best he could for what was to come."

Lip was silent, not trusting himself to speak evenly while he was seeing red. It had been a long, long time since he'd wanted to kill someone.

"What about now?" Mark said.

"Jin's out of my hands now. That's why I called. He's grown attached to Ken, and while he knows better than to enter KGA, he will attempt to manipulate others to go in his place. I sincerely hope your better judgment will prevail, Lip."

"You're saying he wants to help?"

"Jin can be impulsive. I can't approve or explain his actions when he's on his own."

Lip finally spoke again, quietly. "You knew they were coming."

"I did not make this happen. I've only done what I could to improve the outcome."

"And what's the outcome?"

"Ken will survive."

"Survive goin' up against KGA on his own, huh? Survive in _what_ _state_?"

"I can't say. But he'll live."

"And Kel?"

"Kel could very well come out unscathed. Jennifer will take care to ensure that."

Lip's stomach dropped. "She knew they'd be takin' Kel?"

"No, I withheld that information."

Relief was too positive a word for what Lip felt, but at least she hadn't known. "And I guess you expect us to sit here and wait until it's over."

"Well, you have no choice, Lip. You're outnumbered and outmatched. I have great respect for your abilities, but KGA is a death trap for non-psychic Talents. Which is why you must stop Aki before he does something rash, as I assure you he intends to do."

Dylan took out his phone and walked away, stepping into the hall.

"Why?" Mark asked. "You think he'll fuck up your plans?"

"Again, I did not engineer this. It's an inevitable course of events to which I've attempted to adapt. And there's nothing any of you could do, or could have done, to prevent it. KGA was always going to find Ken. But because it happened now, not later, they have no idea what he is. And thanks to Jin's guidance, he'll be much stronger and more capable than they're prepared to deal with. These are the best possible circumstances. That's all that I can tell you."

Lip wanted to crush Jackson's skull between his hands. "I want to communicate with Jen."

"She hopes to patch you into their security system. If she can do that, you may be able to assist her from ARSI. Lip, it is imperative that you stop Aki. His life depends on it, and his relationship with Ken may be important to the recovery process."

"Where's Jin right now?"

"I don't know, but he'll appeal to Aki first."

"I want the map to Toronto headquarters."

"I can't provide that or anything else that might give you a false sense of confidence. It would be suicide."

Lip looked up at Mark, then at Jack, holding his hands out in an _are you fucking kidding me_ manner, only more homicidal.

"What do you plan to do when this is over?" Mark asked Jackson.

"We can discuss that later. Now I need to reconvene with Jin, and you need to stop Aki."

"Is that it?" Lip grated out.

"Yes."

Lip ended the call and stood up, facing the others. "Where is he?" he asked loudly, calling Dylan.

Dylan came back in, lowering his phone from his ear. "On a jet to Detroit with David," he said, looking bewildered. "To meet Jin."

They all looked at Jack, who shook his head. "I didn't clear a jet."

"What the fuck do they think they're gonna do?" Mark asked.

Dylan exhaled explosively, spreading his hands. "Save Ken?"

"Shit," Mark muttered, raking his hands through his hair. "The fuck do _we_ do?"

"He's right," Lip growled, his fists clenched at he turned back to the map of KGA's former Berlin headquarters on the screen. "He's fuckin' right. Son of a bitch. Cocksuckin' mother _fucker._ "

"How do we know he's not lyin'?" Dylan asked.

"'Cause it doesn't matter. He doesn't _have_ to lie," Lip said. "The facts are enough."

"So he's right about Jin? Manipulating Aki into goin' in?"

"Aki's going in there regardless," Mark said. "You know he's on a warpath. I don't know what difference Jin would make, besides helping him do what he's going to do anyway."

"We can't just sit here," Dylan said.

"No. We can't." Lip rubbed his chin, brooding for a brief moment before he decided. "Mark and I'll go. You stay here with Jack. If she's really gonna patch us in, we need someone ready."

"And then what?" Dylan asked. "You plannin' on goin' in there, lads?"

Lip looked away, frowning. "Yes," he said. "If we have to."

"How?"

"You saw what Ken can do. I'm sure that's what Aki's thinkin'. If Ken can take out those Talents, maybe we'll get a chance to go in on even footing."

"More or less," Mark agreed.

"More or less."

#  34. Joke's on Ken

When Ken opened his eyes, he saw nothing for a moment. His vision was blurry, framed in a cloud of black, just like his thoughts, and he couldn't feel his body. For a fraction of a moment, he grasped at old memories, memories of the cold and grimy cage where he'd spent most of his life. Back then he'd often drifted back to consciousness just like this, battered so badly he woke up numb and swollen, unable to move, unable to feel a thing until the pain began to creep in, before his Talent began to mend him to whatever feeble extent it could manage in his condition.

But, wait. No. He wasn't there. He hadn't been there for months, for almost a year.

No, this was something else.

Ken strained to move, even to shift his weight; nothing happened, and all he produced for his efforts was a faint breath of exertion.

Where the fuck _was_ he?

His eyes had closed again. He dragged them open, though it felt like they were welded shut. Through the haze he could discern some sense of brightness, whiteness, surrounding him. It told him nothing, and shifting his gaze was agony. He closed his eyes again.

What had _happened_?

"Regenerative."

The faint voice brought a flicker of alertness. _Regenerative._ Regenerative. That was what KGA called Talents who could heal themselves.

KGA.

The first traces of understanding came trickling in. KGA. He'd been picked up by KGA. He'd been with Kel, driving, and they'd shot him and drugged him and he'd crashed his bike and then...

Fuck. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready for this. Jin hadn't told him...

"Jin?"

Ken's attention narrowed on that tinny, faraway voice, and tears of frustration sprang to his eyes as he strained once more to see, to feel, to get a sense of his surroundings.

But no, he realized. That wasn't the important thing. His shields. Where were his shields? Sluggishly, clumsily, he groped in his mind for the comforting solidity of his mental barriers, but it was as if his mind was all fogged in.

"You know Jin?"

Thoughts of Jin surfaced, unbidden; Ken's last impression of the telepath, naked and lounging in bed, blue eyes tracking him, frowning, concerned. The night before, when Ken had wanted Jin to teach him how to hide his thoughts from psychics, from KGA...

Hide his thoughts.

Fuck. _Fuck._ His most recent memories were scattered outside of his shields, waving in the air like little threads. Dismayed, Ken made a weak sound, something between a whimper and a cough, and his fingers twitched.

"Strange," one of the Talents said. "He's hiding more. Can't get to it."

Ken felt a flash of bitter satisfaction. He felt an empathic prodding at the place in the back of his skull where he'd always been vulnerable, but which had been cold and hard for the last couple of days. No longer was it soft and permeable. Now it was like a scale of armor.

So Sky _could_ help him when he was in trouble.

But some threads of thought had still leaked out. The assholes had caught the one with Jin's name on it, and they were pulling.

"Fast-track him?"

"Clearly. Get another dose ready."

"I don't think he's just a regenerative."

Feeling another tug on that thread, rage unfurled somewhere behind Ken's eyes. No. No, this couldn't be happening. With another surge of determination, he tried to find his mental footing, desperate to command his Talent again.

"You know Jin," the first voice repeated, and this time it was closer.

No! He couldn't think. He couldn't. They couldn't have this. Ken made another mental lunge, grasping to keep them from pulling more out, from finding what else it led to...

They yanked another inch. It was like playing tug of war, only his hands were too numb to grip.

"And _Jackson Gadamer_." A pause, another sharp pull at his thoughts. "What have you got to do with Jackson Gadamer?"

_No._ Tears of fury escaped Ken's eyes, though the rest of his body remained as still as death.

This couldn't be happening.

All these months he'd fought for his secrets, shored up his shields, trained to be invincible. And now he'd been beaten by two pieces of shit on motorcycles and a goddamn shot of some psychic-grade sedative. This couldn't be. It couldn't. It was all wrong. After how hard he'd worked to win, he wasn't supposed to _lose_.

The Talents were getting frustrated. "He won't let go. This is abnormal."

Fuckers. His fury swelled, gathering like a cyclone in his head. Motherfuckers. He'd show them abnormal. He'd kill them all. He'd kill them all. He'd fucking kill them, he'd fry them, he'd crush them, he'd _shred_ them for this.

The tugging stopped. "Let's leave it. If Jackson's involved, Strauss will want to handle it himself."

A low growl grated in his ears. It was his own. His hand jerked slightly, then his foot, and he felt a surge of wild, savage triumph.

But then, the sting.

"Save it for Strauss," one of the voices said as the drug shuddered through him. "He'll love it."

A new flood of helpless, toxic, hateful rage submerged Ken. In a few moments he'd be out cold again. But they'd have to wake him up eventually. _Strauss_ would have to face him. And he wouldn't forget where he was again. He wouldn't forget. As darkness closed in once more, Ken grabbed onto that rage and held on, riding it into the abyss.

He wasn't fucked. _They_ were fucked. They were _fucked_. He'd kill them all. He'd burn them down. He would _fucking murder them._

Save it for Strauss?

Fine.

#  35. Squad Problems

Aki drove slowly up the gravel road toward the festival grounds outside of Detroit, where Jin had told him they'd meet. Cars lined the route as far as the eye could see. There was a shitty music festival going on at a farm nearby, apparently with some kind of hardcore clown theme, and masses of scrawny and bloated youth were camping amid the woods. Rough electronic beats and air horns sounded in the distance, and scattered partiers staggered about the road in pairs and groups, many with painted faces, most clutching giant plastic cups and bottles.

"Of all the places," David sighed, as relaxed in the passenger seat as if they were on a long road trip.

"He swears it's the best place to meet." Jin had said a crowd of drunk, drugged and disorderly revelers was the best camouflage. He glanced down at his phone. "Lip again."

David answered. "Hey."

Lip's voice filled the car. "Any news?"

"No. Waitin' for 'im. You?"

"Same. I wanna hear from you after. Don't leave me wonderin' if he's fucked with your heads."

"Yeah."

"Aki?"

"Fine." Aki watched a girl in a flame-patterned bikini top and dirty white shorts sashay into the road ahead, gesturing in slow, drunken sweeps of her hand as she spoke into a cell phone. "Got it." The girl was taking her time crossing the road, and Aki slowed the car.

The back door of the car opened suddenly, and both Aki and David jerked around to see Jin sliding into the middle of the backseat. The telepath slammed the door and looked between them, then at the phone, then impatiently at them again.

"Call you back," Aki said, and ended the call with Lip. He also put the car in park and turned in his seat.

"Fuckin' drive." Jin gestured roughly toward the road. "You can talk and drive."

_"You_ can talk," Aki said in a voice like burning coals. "Right now."

"What's Lip doing? What's the plan?"

"I said talk."

"Jesus, Sakamoto, are we on this shit or not?"

_"We_ are nothing _,_ " Aki growled. " _You_ fucked him over. Why?"

"You think I know what the fuck—"

A horn blasted behind them just as high beams blasted light into the car. Aki got a dark look on his face and drove forward again, shooting Jin a venomous glare through the rearview mirror.

"Sounds like you helped get Ken into this," David said.

Jin looked at him as if recognizing him for the first time, and he blinked in confusion. Then he grimaced. "Jesus Christ, give me a fucking break. Now it's a two-for-one?"

"Shut up." Aki's voice cracked through the car like a whip. "Don't start. You're not on Jackson's side? Prove it."

_"You_ prove it," Jin shot back. "He's the empath now. Does it feel like I'm happy about this shit? Does it feel like I want him in there?"

"No," David said simply.

"But you knew," Aki grated out. The tendons in his arm rippled, and the steering wheel creaked. "I can _smell_ the guilt on you, you _coward._ "

"Fuck you," Jin snapped. "This isn't my fault."

"Then why do you feel guilty?" David asked.

The telepath covered his eyes, pinching his brow and growling behind his hand. "It doesn't matter."

"Answer the question." Aki said.

"We don't all work for good guys, you sanctimonious prick. It's not always so fucking simple."

Aki's voice rose. "Did you know?"

"Not the way you think!" Jin shouted. "I don't _want_ him in there."

David looked at Aki, his eyebrow flicking up just slightly. Aki took a deep breath and fixed his eyes on the road, trying to cool down his rage. It was a good thing David was here. It was a good thing _Luke_ was here, at least in the form of that empathy. It would be a lot harder to listen to Jin rationally without having that for a lie detector.

"You said to meet you," David said, turning in his seat to keep his eyes on Jin. "What for?"

Jin's face held all the haunted rage of a fresh prisoner. "'Cause I knew you'd charge in after him, and I knew you'd fuck it up on your own."

"So you can help?" Aki managed to say it in an even voice.

"I don't _know_. I don't have some master plan. I can't fuckin' fix this. There's no magic word or secret map to get in and out of KGA alive, all right?"

Before Aki could think of a response, Jin thrust an arm between the two front seats and pointed at a gravel turnoff ahead on the right. "Pull up on this hill. We can talk in the campground."

"So what is there?" David pressed on.

"There's _Ken_ ," Jin said. "There's Ken in there. I don't know! What's your idea?"

Aki looked at him in the rearview mirror, but said nothing. The road meandered into a heavily wooded hill, the headlights illuminating scores of camping tents amid the trees, and even thicker crowds of partiers. He pulled over on a muddy shoulder, turned off the car, and got out. David and Jin followed him.

"What do you mean you didn't know the way I think you did?" Aki asked when Jin stood before them.

Jin seemed to war with himself for a moment. But then, with a resigned scoff, he shook his head and looked away. "I mean I knew it before I got involved," he said stiffly. "But I didn't know it during. I didn't remember until tonight. I found out right before you did, when they already had him."

"Why? Why would it be like that?"

"Why? 'Cause we're shady psychics. I don't know, fuck."

"They did something to you," David realized. "Your team."

"It doesn't matter," Jin snapped. "You dumbasses wanna find a way to help him or what?"

David and Aki exchanged a look, and Aki felt slightly less murderous. He nodded.

"And good for you," Jin added tiredly, waving a hand at David. "Both of you. Good. Great."

"You seriously have no plan," Aki said.

"Have I ever looked like a fuckin' planner to you?" Jin demanded. "What did Lip say?"

Aki shook his head. "Still investigating. He's on his way to Toronto with Mark."

Jin dragged a hand down his face and leaned back against the car with a hard thump. A stoned boy wandered obliviously through their loose circle, waving his phone in the air, trying to catch a signal.

"Okay." Jin said at last. "Here's how it works. They keep you drugged for transport. And after. Once you get to headquarters, you go to intake with all the other Talents they've rounded up. Unconscious. They strip you and restrain you. You get sorted by what they picked you up for. Then they evaluate in order of class. Empaths, telepaths, unknowns, telekinetics, pyrokinetics, hypercognitives, physicals, regeneratives, hybrids. One by one in that order. Each class takes a day to get through. Sometimes two days if there are more than five in a class."

Aki nodded, frowning intently. "So we have time. If they don't notice him."

"They're _gonna_ notice him," Jin said. "For the way he looks, and his shields. He'll go to the top of the pile in his class. But yeah, he has time, 'cause he's not an empath. Unless he is today, who fucking knows with him?" Jin looked tormented for a split second before he shook his head and continued. "For the first evaluation, they lower your dose so you come around halfway, and they read you. A telepath scans your thoughts and memories and your general psychostructure. An empath keeps you at the level of consciousness they want, and scores your power and the strength of your shields."

"While you're half conscious?"

"Exactly. The empath keeps you in a dream state. Your mind is open, but you don't have control."

"So they'll be able to read his mind?"

Jin grimaced, slowly shaking his head. "I don't know." He closed his eyes and rubbed his brow, sneering in frustration. "I never got to teach him how to... _fuck,_ " he muttered, and dropped his head back. "I tried to show him how to fuckin' hide and he wouldn't..."

David watched him curiously.

"Hide?" Aki narrowed his eyes. "Like what? Like I hid from Jen?"

Jin grimaced. "Better than _that_ , but yeah, something similar."

"I taught him what I did."

Jin looked quickly at him, brow creased. "What?"

"I taught him how to meditate. He asked me a long time ago. I told him the visualization I used."

"What visualization?"

"Walls, slamming down inside each other. Like nesting boxes. Thick metal walls." Aki frowned again, remembering. "I told him when Jen came, I focused so hard I lost control. The walls came down so fast it was like, a hundred every second. Seemed like thousands. Until there was no room for me and I kind of dropped down into this hole. And then I was just falling, and I was gone."

Jin was nodding as Aki spoke. "Okay. Maybe that'll help him. Fuck knows. Fuck _knows_ with him."

"Then what?" David asked.

"After the first evaluation, a precog gets the report and gives a reading. The Talents with the most potential go to the Trigger stage. Strauss gets the reports and goes through them one by one."

"What does he do?"

Jin looked at David, knowing Aki had already heard it at some point from Lip or one of the others. "He's an empath. A really powerful empath. And he came up with a technique called the Trigger Method. The idea is that trauma brings out Talent. So Strauss brings the trauma. Whatever it takes to get in deep and force your Talent into a state of panic. That's being Triggered. Your Talent explodes to save you. It goes berserk. It manifests to the biggest possible extent, all at once. All your power wakes up."

"Then why can't you just kill him?"

"Because he turns it on you somehow. It's like a bomb going off in a closed space. Your shields freak out and break down. You can't make sense of anything. You pulverize yourself. It takes a week to recover and when you do, you're so fuckin' scared of them you'll never fight again. Or you don't recover and you get sent to the labs and they fuck around with you until you're nothing."

Aki spoke up, his voice dark. "And how's Ken supposed to come out on top of this and take out KGA?"

"Jackson thinks when he's Triggered he'll obliterate everyone." Jin rubbed his forehead. "Maybe he'll control himself somehow. Or he'll just explode. I don't know."

"But it'll damage him."

_"Yeah_ , it'll fuckin' damage him. That power he's got? And Strauss fucking it all up and pushing him? It'll leave him comatose. Or insane. Probably like you were. And I don't know if he'll recover. Jackson couldn't tell me. But that kid..." Helpless rage passed over Jin's face again. "There's gotta be a way. If he has some _help_ or something. If he can stay in control, not just strapped down and fuckin' tortured until he snaps..."

"Okay," Aki interrupted. "Fine. He's in there now. He has a day before he meets Strauss, at least."

"No. The rest of the night at the most. He's fuckin' weird. They'll notice him."

"What will they sort him as?" David asked.

"They would have only seen his shields. He doesn't give anything away." Jin frowned, thinking. "But he'll resist the drugs. They might label him a regenerative. It's just if he comes to and he thinks about shit he shouldn't think about, like me, or Jackson, they'll take him straight to Strauss. Fuck," he muttered.

"Then we have to go," Aki said. "Now. We need to be able to hear when the fight starts. And we have to get there fast enough to help."

"You can't just _sneak up_ ," Jin said irritably. "They'll _smell_ us. Those Talents have a five-mile range and Strauss has them patrolling a huge-ass perimeter. They do it in helicopters. In cars. They sweep in spirals. They cover whole countries." Jin's face was going pale, and he closed his eyes, rolling his head on his neck. "Jesus, it's fuckin' impossible."

"Why are you here, then?" Aki felt his anger boiling over suddenly.

"The fuck do you mean, why am I here?" Jin shot him a glare. "I want him out as bad as you do."

"Then act like it," Aki shouted.

_"You_ act like it. Come up with a better plan than Operation Suicide Squad."

Aki lunged forward and slammed Jin back against the car.

"Stop it," David protested. "For fuck's sake."

Aki was overreacting. He knew it, and he was furious at himself for it. Now wasn't the time to lose control of his emotions. But Ken was in there all alone—and Jin had helped get him there. Now he was waffling over what to do? Insulting David and Luke while he was at it?

"You piece of shit," Aki snapped. "You're the one who set him up. _You_ made this happen. How do we know you even want to help us? Maybe you just think if you stall for long enough you can let Jackson's plan play out. Maybe that's all you want."

"Fuck you, Sakamoto." Jin shoved roughly at Aki. "You don't know what the _fuck_ you're talking about."

"I hope Ken saw through your bullshit. I hope he never thought you'd be there when it mattered."

"Aki," David interrupted.

"You're not fucking listening to me!" Jin growled.

"I swear to you, if anything happens to him, I'll make you pay for it. I'll make it my mission to get you torn into a million little _fucking_ pieces."

"Aki!" Luke pleaded.

Aki froze at the sound of that voice, jarred out of his rage. Unnerved, he loosened his hold on Jin and let the telepath shove him off at last.

Jin straightened from the car, glaring after Aki as he jerked his collar back into place. "You don't care if you get yourself killed?" Jin demanded. "Then who's gonna be there to help him when he comes out all fucked up?"

"That's not going to happen."

"No? What if it does? What if he ends up just like you were after Jen, and nobody's there for him 'cause his friends were so fucking stubborn they decided to run up on a hundred psychics and hope for the best?"

Aki said nothing for a moment, and then he spoke low and firm. "I'm not leaving him alone for this. Trapped and tortured with no one to help him. Not again. If you want to hang back and let him act out your stupid prophecy—"

"That's _not_ what I want, you arrogant baby," Jin hissed. "You're not the only one who..."

Aki narrowed his eyes, defiant. "Who _what_?"

"Jin," said David, in that way that wasn't David's, "What can we do? If we can't sneak right up to KGA, can we at least get close enough to find out when Ken's knocked out their Talents?"

Jin scrubbed his face for a moment, and then raked his hair back from his forehead and held it there, angry and forlorn.

"I could listen to civilians," he muttered at length. "If we move toward Toronto, I can sweep around and look for signs of some psychic blast. If Ken goes off and fucks them up, there should be some reverberations in the general public. Headaches, anxiety, something. And any KGA Talents outside Ken's range should get some kind of indication that shit's gone down—I can sweep for them and hope they're too distracted to notice. I dunno how close we'll have to be, or if it'll work, but that's the only thing I can think of."

"Fine," David said. "Then that's the plan. Can we get moving?"

Jin shot Aki a final glare, opened the back door, slid into the seat and slammed the door so hard the car rocked slightly on its wheels.

Aki closed his eyes and let out a breath, trying to will himself calm again. It wasn't like him to lose control of his emotions at a critical time like this. But then he looked at David and remembered that Ken's abduction wasn't the only thing that had him tied in knots. Every time he heard Luke in David's voice, saw Luke in David's face, it was like the ground fall out from underneath him. The timing couldn't have been worse.

"You okay?" David asked quietly.

Aki nodded. "I'm fine."

"Sorry, lad."

"Don't apologize."

David squeezed his shoulder and took the driver's seat. Aki circled the car and got in.

Jin gave directions, his tone bleak. They started in the direction of Toronto.

#  36. Ken Takes a Swing

Ken came to slowly. He felt like shit.

Kel.

He jerked in his restraints, quickly remembering where he was.

No time to think.

Aki's trick.

Metal walls.

"Too late," said a voice from behind him. "I've already been inside."

"Bullshit," Ken spat. Whoever this psychic was, he was bluffing. Ken could feel his shields now, because they hurt everywhere, like they'd been torn and gouged on all sides. They were still there, though. The psychic might have seen some things, but he hadn't seen it all.

What worried him more was that the cold, hardened place at the back of his mind didn't feel so cold and hard anymore. He wasn't sure he could feel it at all.

"You did stump our psychics," the voice said. "You seem to be quite an interesting hybrid. Would you tell me, please, in your own words, what you can do?"

"Fuck you."

For a panicked fraction of a moment, he thought his face had suddenly been smashed through the back of his skull.

The pain was incredible, but worse was the gut-deep fear that his brain was being crushed and destroyed, his life gone forever. He had only rarely felt such fear in his life, and the last time he'd felt it, he'd actually died.

And then it was over. His head seemed to explode back into its proper place, tearing a gasp from his throat. Furious that the man had gotten a reaction out of him so quickly, he jerked against his restraints, but then remembered Kel's advice. _Stay in control._ He tightened his clenched fists, trying not to let his anger change his breathing.

That was when he realized the man was standing right in front of him, staring at him with something between disgust and fascination. "Speak to me with respect," the man said, "or there will be none offered to you."

Ken stared into his eyes and focused on the walls in his head as every fiber in his being screamed at him to destroy. "Where's the other one?" His voice was choked and raspy. "The one you picked up with me?"

"What are your Talents?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm Wilhelm Strauss, the leader of this organization. And your name is Ken. I know. And we've seen that you keep some very interesting company. People like your friend Kel. Mark. Lip, is it? Aki." Strauss raised an eyebrow. "Jin. _Jackson._ "

"Whatever."

Strauss laughed as if surprised. " _Whatever?_ "

Ken's kneecaps exploded. He lurched down the board, hanging by his wrists, and growled through his teeth. Metal walls. Metal walls. Metal walls.

_"Jackson_. What on earth would be your business with Jackson? I suppose it's no surprise that he's recruiting on the sly. He has such bizarre taste." Strauss laughed. "Look at you. It's comical."

Metal walls. Ken opened his hands, stretching his fingers as he breathed carefully through his nose.

"Those shields are impressive, I'll admit. I can't wait to get underneath them. But before that, tell me yourself, Ken. What are your Talents?"

_Metal walls._ Ken was starting to feel calmer.

"Oh, Ken." Strauss sounded truly sorry. "You're _badly_ misreading the situation."

Ken looked into his eyes again, though he was unable to do it without imagining how good it would feel to smash the empath's face.

"Your pain tolerance is high. I gather it's been that way for a very long time. You probably don't remember what pain is supposed to feel like." Strauss slowly reached for Ken's face and gently framed it in his hands.

Metal walls metal walls metal walls

At first it only stung. But then there was shock. And then there was agony, and finally there was blind panic.

Ken felt his own hot tears sliding between Strauss's fingers before he realized he was screaming, struggling wildly in his restraints, trying to tear his head from the empath's hands.

"Do you remember now?"

Ken lost sight of the walls. He lost sense of almost everything but the fact that he was being torn apart, crushed and ground up between white hot irons, slashed by razors, flayed and skinned alive. And somewhere low in the back of his skull, where empaths always crept in, he felt an awful, feral clawing, like some rabid beast trying to rip its way in.

Terror sloshed all over inside him like a raging sea. There was a sickening jolt within his brain, followed by the sensation of falling away. His memory went black. He forgot who he was. He forgot all but panic and desperation and _stop make it stop_

Then Strauss's hands fell away, and it was over. Ken squeezed his tear-clouded eyes shut against the bright lights, gasping, only to be overwhelmed by an obscene wave of euphoria. It was like a hundred orgasms at once, and it was Strauss causing it, Strauss, deep inside of him, stroking and thrilling him, and then—nothing.

Ken hung from the restraints, struggling to breathe. His head rolled with vertigo, and he gagged. Nothing came up, though he heaved again. His head hadn't yet returned to center.

"Perhaps now you understand your situation," Strauss said. "What I can do to you. Your powerlessness here. I wouldn't normally offer such a warning, but I'm in an unusually good mood this week."

Ken didn't wait. He didn't think. As soon as he had a grip again, he launched his Talent at Strauss.

Only once he'd lashed out did he form an intention beyond destroying the older man. It was a struggle to pull any focus together, but he _willed_ Strauss's Talent to disappear. He willed it as hard as he possibly could.

Maybe it was the fact that he'd already been battered, or perhaps it was the wild force of his exertion, but it _hurt_. His brain screamed from the effort, and he screamed along with it. He felt a series of pops behind his eyes, a torrent of blood rushing down over his lips. Groggily he feared he was killing himself, but the thought only made him more enraged, and he doubled the force of his attack. He blasted Strauss with all he had, for as long as he could, even as it felt like he was tearing himself apart.

And then everything went black and silent.

Slowly his hearing returned, though at first all he picked up was his own choked, rapid breathing. Until another sound rocked him back to reality.

"Ken."

Fuck.

Strauss wasn't dead. And his voice, though unsteady now, had taken on an unsettling edge.

"Look at me, Ken."

Ken struggled to open his eyes. The light was blinding. He squinted, searching for the other man through a haze of white. The empath's form appeared before him at last, blurred in the extreme. His eyes and mouth looked like black pits.

"So that's the Talent you're hiding," Strauss said. "How extraordinary." The word was foul on his lips.

Ken tried to feel for Strauss's condition, to see if he'd been successful, but he could feel...nothing. It slowly dawned on him that he could not even feel his _own_ Talent.

_No,_ he thought, choking back a fresh wave of panic. _No, no, no..._ He squeezed his stinging eyes shut. His lips were sticky with blood.

"Look at me, Ken."

Without thinking about it, Ken followed his command. This time Strauss came sharply into focus, and Ken felt a flash of triumph: Blood streamed from the empath's nose, as well, just as it had done Aki's and David's and Sky's when Ken had disabled their Talents.

"Oh, yes," Strauss said. His eyes were dark swirls of hate. "You got me. Enjoy that feeling for a moment, Ken."

Ken growled, his wrists straining against the cuffs. If he had no Talent, and Strauss had no Talent, Ken would just have to tear him apart with his hands.

The empath laughed. "You still think you're going to kill me?"

And then Ken felt it, the slithering at the back of his skull. Shock unfolded in his chest like a cloud of poison.

"Mm," Strauss confirmed, his handsome smile now grotesque with blood. "That's right. You swept away most of my Talent. But you missed a spot."

Strauss's empathy was snaking its way into Ken's brain. It was hideous, unbearable, and there were no metals walls, now, to stop it. There was none of his own Talent to stop it. He'd blown it all away himself.

"You missed _one_ little spot," Strauss said, his voice dripping with as much pleasure as hate. "But that's all I need, really, now that you've cracked your own shields. That's why empathy is such a useful gift. Feelings are so much more vulnerable than thoughts."

Ken thrashed in the restraints, desperate to fight back as that foreign influence slid deeper and deeper inside, burrowing in like worms. His muscles stung and ached from his efforts. He felt snaps in his wrists that sent pain shrieking up his arms. For the first time in memory he knew the sickening reality of weakness, of what it meant to have no shields, to have no Talent, no special resilience or healing abilities. This was what it was to be like a normal person, defenseless and without control.

A mass of helpless fury swelled up in his chest and broke from his lips in a scream.

"I'm going to keep you here, Ken. I'm going to find out all about this abominable Talent you have. I really don't like it. I don't like it at all. I may think of a way to use it, or I may simply dispose of you. I have absolutely no preference. But until I've recovered from whatever it is you've done, until we can take a closer look at you, I think it's best I calm you down."

"Fuck you," Ken hissed. The tendrils of empathy had taken root deep in his mind, and he knew Strauss would exert his influence any second. "Fuck you—"

The shift was instant and profound.

Everything went quiet again. Ken's struggle abruptly ceased.

"There."

Ken slumped in his restraints, breathing heavily. When Strauss unshackled his legs, Ken made no movement, and when the empath unshackled his wrists, he merely slid down the pallet to the floor. Slowly he curled in on himself, sinking forward over his knees until his forehead lay against the cold tiles. His own hot tears pooled under his face.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself," Strauss said. "I promise it's the last time you ever will."

His footsteps faded into the distance as Ken sank to lie down fully on his side. Strauss left the door open behind him. Nothing stopped Ken from rising and waking out, but he didn't. He only began to sob, softly, in defeat.

#  37. Jen Jumps In

Jen turned from the wall she'd stumbled into and braced her back against it, reaching up to wipe the blood from her nose. It had happened much sooner than she'd expected.

Christ, she hoped the kid was okay. She hoped hard enough it surprised her.

She scanned her surroundings, taking stock of how Ken's attack had affected the Talents at KGA. Incredibly, it seemed he'd completely incapacitated nearly all of the psychics, and the rest were close enough to being disabled. Their shields were obliterated, their control scrambled, and they were profoundly disoriented.

And then it hit her: Her own Talent was greatly diminished, too, but enough of her empathy and telepathy remained to scan those around her. She guessed she was at about five percent of her usual capacity, not enough to do anyone real damage. But Strauss was stronger than she was. He could have fared even better, and what about Ken? She had to act fast.

Jen reached for the nearest Talent, an empath, and compelled him to approach; a moment later the door to her dormitory cell slid open. She shoved past him and swept her stunted telepathy over every stunned Talent in proximity, confirming a route to the nearest computers with access to the main system.

The long white halls were sprinkled with disoriented Talents who wandered out of mysterious rooms, many clutching their heads, some unsteady on their feet. Jen briefly considered dragging one into a room to steal his clothes—she had a feeling things would get athletic soon, and she was still dressed only in the short gown they'd given her—but that would have to wait.

"Get that woman," someone said behind her, angrily. "Get her!"

So there were still a few with their wits about them. Fine. Still weren't strong enough to stop her.

KGA was about to learn it was a mistake to undervalue physical Talents. Though they clearly had combat training, they weren't used to fighting hand to hand. Fortunately Jen was old school—and she'd dated Mark for over a decade. They'd sparred nearly as often as they'd fucked. Even without superhuman reflexes and strength, they could outfight anyone.

Jen turned at once with a spinning kick to catch the Talent by the jaw with her heel, sending him flying against the wall and kicking again to crush his windpipe. She hit the next one with a fatal palm strike through the bridge of the nose. Then she spun and swept her leg around to catch the Talent ahead of her by the heels, bringing him crashing to his back and then lunging down to punch him in the temple.

It was nice, frankly, to hear bones break once in awhile. There was nothing more satisfying than violent justice.

Still, best to avoid another rumble until security was handled. Jen switched gears and turned right at the end of the hallway, looking for the closest opening to the ventilation system. But multiple hatches were blended seamlessly with the white ceiling, and she wasn't sure of herself. There was no reason to think her cognitive abilities hadn't been affected, too, and she couldn't afford to let the floor plan trip her up.

Glancing around again, she made a quick, careful review of the corners she'd turned. She knew she was on U1, one floor below ground level. The labs where she'd first been kept, where Ken and Kel likely were now, were in some place called U4. But the architectural twists and illusions meant there were anywhere from one to four stops on the elevators between them, depending on which lift she took. One of those stops was UA, where security and arms were headquartered, but she didn't even know if she could find it fast enough to do any good. Shit, she could use some backup.

She headed back the way she'd come at a sprint. Another Talent with a few faculties intact tried to stop her, but she flattened him with a quick elbow to the face and kept her stride until she reached a set of elevators. On the way she grabbed a dazed Talent by the arm, dragging him to the lift and holding his palm against the touch-sensitive button. Then she shoved him against the wall and unzipped his pants. The elevator arrived, and she backed into it as she pulled his trousers off of his legs, leaving him in the hallway. Once inside the lift, she yanked on the pants and rolled them over once. They were loose, but they'd at least help her slide the way she liked to when she had to fight dirty.

The elevator was going down, and she jumped up to knock loose the ceiling hatch. Wriggling through, she leapt upward into the shaft and scrambled up the beams and wires to what looked like a ventilation hatch. She slid into the vent, moving quickly through the shaft and scanning the Talents on the floors for a clue as to where to go. It was a good thing she could do that much.

It was strange to feel her heart beating from exertion, and she took the brief journey as an opportunity to train her breathing and focus her body. It was a nice challenge, she had to admit. Mark would have loved this mission, if not for the stakes.

In about four minutes, she found what she was looking for: a small programming lab with access to the main network. To her delight, there was only one Talent inside, pacing in an unsteady circle and smacking himself in the face. Poor guy. She dropped down into the room and hooked an arm around his neck, dragging him to the computer with her and forcing him to his knees beside the chair. "Passcode," she murmured, willing him to surrender the information.

"KG52," he said, and held up his hand. She took it and pressed his fingertip to the touchpad, then smacked his head onto the desk and let him slide to the floor. Her fingers began to fly over the keyboard. It took all of two minutes to establish a connection. Jackson was right: KGA was arrogant. She would never have gotten this far if they'd hired a damn security consultant. They relied on psychic Talent too much. Good.

"Calling from KGA," she said into the mic. "Copy?"

There was a brief lag.

"Yeah, copy."

Dylan, she realized with relief. There was no time to think about how strange it was that they should be speaking now, under these circumstances. "Can you patch yourself in now? I need you to lock down the weapons before anyone starts to recover."

"We're on it. What's going on?"

"Ken did his thing. They're mostly incapacitated here. Is anyone close enough to come in?"

"Aki and David are nearby with Jin. Lip and Mark are on the way."

"Jesus, don't send _everyone_ in. We don't know how long this Talent outage lasts."

"Yeah, you try and tell 'em what to do. How is he? Have you seen Kel?"

"Negative. And Ken's in trouble. Reason to think Strauss survived his attack with enough Talent to cause harm. I have to find them. And I don't know how much of an advantage I have here, or for how long."

"Stay hidden, then. Stay ahead of 'em."

"Tell them to be careful. It's a maze in here. Do what you can from there."

"Workin' on it. Just locked down the guns. Bringin' down security now. There's not much. Help that kid out, Jen. Get 'im the fuck outta there."

"Got it. Out." Jen turned off the monitor and leaped back into the vent.

#  38. Choose Your Friends

Jin was uncharacteristically quiet on the way to Toronto. Aki glanced at him every now and then, wondering what was going to happen. What _had_ happened.

"Why did you train him?" Aki asked at last.

Jin seemed not to hear him. His face was full of dread, like a man on death row.

"Hey."

"Because Jackson told me to."

"Why?"

Jin sighed quietly.

Aki didn't know why he was always inclined to be on Jin's side, why he always wanted to hear the telepath out, why against all evidence and common sense he was compelled to give him the benefit of the doubt time and time again. He didn't know why he'd kept such a distance as Ken and Jin grew close. He couldn't explain it, other than the fact that he was used to following his instincts, and his instincts had told him Jin could be trusted.

"Did you fuck with my head?" Aki demanded.

Jin looked faintly disgusted. " _No_."

As usual, Aki believed him, and he glowered in frustration. He glanced at David, who looked at him with the open, expectant calm of Luke. Fuck. Aki rubbed his forehead and tried again. "So you just follow orders? You infiltrated us, weaseled your way into Ken's confidence and pushed him to train his Talents because Jackson told you to? You didn't even ask why?" The more he spoke, the more his face soured. "I thought you had a mind of your own."

"I can't see the fucking future."

"So you'll do whatever a precognitive tells you to." When Jin didn't answer, Aki pushed on. "Feel good about that now?"

"Fuck off, Sakamoto. I'm here for Ken, not to be your fucking turncoat."

Luke sighed and pressed his head against the back of the driver's seat, conflict-averse as ever. Aki missed David. _Jesus_. He was going to lose his mind.

"It's still _David_ ," Jin muttered.

David-Luke turned to look at Jin. Aki blinked, his anger giving way to confusion and a helpless need for some shred of understanding.

"It'll settle down," Jin said tiredly. "You're twins. You probably weren't all that separate to start with. My guess is he left a chunk of himself inside you when you killed yourself. Whatever Ken did woke it up, brought it out. You're absorbing it now. Your mind's just figuring out where to put it all."

David and Aki exchanged a look, each trying to process this. Aki asked, "How much of him is there?"

"I dunno. It's not measurable."

"Is it like he's alive?"

Jin shrugged. "Obviously not alive enough for his own body."

Aki looked at David again, his heart twisting into a knot.

"Easy. Don't get all fuckin' conflicted about it. It's not like he's taken over. It's not like, half and half." He gestured toward David. "Obviously David's in charge. Jesus, whole family makes me fuckin' seasick. Actually, pull over. We're close enough."

David obliged, pulling into a fast food restaurant parking lot. "Close enough for what?"

"To listen. You, don't even try. You'll get us caught." Jin opened the door and stepped out. "Everyone just shut up for a second."

Aki followed suit, taking the opportunity to move his limbs. David came out and joined him in front of the car, and they watched the telepath pace idly ahead of them, arms crossed and spine stiff.

"You think he'll actually come through?" Aki asked. "Or is he too scared of KGA?"

"He's not just scared," David murmured. "He's terrified. They must have really fucked him up."

Jin shot them both a poisonous look over his shoulder and stalked further on, shaking his head.

"You trust him," Aki said.

"Trust he wants to help Ken. Yeah." David raised an eyebrow at Aki. "So do you."

Aki's phone rang and he answered, walking in the opposite direction of Jin. "Lip."

"No. It's Jackson."

Aki stiffened. "Why are you calling me from this number?"

"A simple trick. I had to be sure you'd pick up."

Aki looked toward Jin, but the telepath was distracted, facing the sunrise with stiff shoulders, hands laced atop his head. "What do you want?"

"I take it you're planning to enter KGA."

"What do you _want_?"

"You're being manipulated."

Aki scoffed. "Huh."

"I suppose Jin is being cautious, while your resolve is stronger than ever. I gather he's warned you how foolish you're being, yet he's still helping you along."

"He did it," Jin said abruptly, dropping his hands to his sides. "If we hurry..." The telepath turned back toward them, eyes wide, and then spotted the phone in Aki's hand. A beat later, his eyes narrowed and he stalked forward.

"You _will not_ make it out, Aki. Neither you nor David. Ken will destroy you. He won't be able to control himself."

"Then why would Jin have us go in?"

"Most likely to provoke Ken with your presence. Jin hopes that if Ken senses you're in danger, his panic will be enough to spark his Talent to destroy KGA. He's wrong. Strauss will have to Trigger him, and anyone within range will be ruined in the fallout."

Jin halted in front of Aki and stayed there, rage in his eyes. He didn't need to grab the phone, Aki knew. He was a telepath. He could hear the conversation in Aki's head. "Let's go," Jin said. "He did it. You've got your opening."

"He's a telepath, Aki," Jackson said, almost gently. "And a more talented manipulator than you realize."

"Why do you care?" Aki demanded. "Why would you care if I died?"

"Because if there's even the slightest hope Ken can recover from this, it will be with your help. And for my own reasons, I would very much like to see him recover."

"Let's fucking _go,_ " Jin snarled.

"You're making a mistake," Jackson said. "If you throw your life away, you may as ell throw Ken's away, too."

"That's what you called to tell me?" Aki asked, his voice rougher than he expected. His heart was beating slightly too hard in his chest.

"Do not let Jin fool you, Aki. You've been taken in by a simple trick of reverse psychology. He wants you to go in his place. That's why he called you. You're being manipulated."

This time Jin did grab the phone. "You're dead to me," he hissed at Jackson. "You're fuckin' _dead_ to me."

Jin cut off the call and shoved the phone back into Aki's hands. " _I'm_ a talented manipulator?" he snarled, pointing toward himself. "Me? I've never used my Talent on you. Not once. I've barely even _talked_ to you with it. He's trying to cut down the fucking variables. He knows you could fuck up something he wants to get out of this." He pointed at the phone. " _That's_ manipulation. That is. Who planned for all this in the first place?"

"Calm down," David called. "Aki doesn't give a shit about Jackson."

Aki looked at David, because that was only somewhat true. The suggestion that Ken needed him to survive this was starting to nag at him.

"Jesus Christ." Jin grabbed Aki by the shoulders and shook him. "We're fifty miles away. Let's fucking go. Let's fucking _go,_ Aki."

"Let's?" Aki repeated.

"I said I'm going to help him!" Jin shouted. "As long as they're down and out, we have a chance. We've got a couple hours if we're lucky. If we can just stop fuckin' standing here and _go!_ "

Aki shoved past him. His phone rang again and he answered as he reached for the driver's side door. "Dylan?"

Jin pushed him aside and got behind the driver's wheel instead, shooting him a glare as he did so, daring him to argue. Aki frowned and got in the backseat. Jin peeled out before he'd even shut the door.

"Just got word from Jen," Dylan said. "She patched us in. Ken did his thing about fifteen minutes ago. She says most of the Talents have been disabled, enough she's been makin' her way through 'em hand-to-hand. She's lookin' for Ken now. We're workin' on takin' down their security. Place is nothin' without Talent."

"You think we can get him out?"

"Here's the thing, lad. Jen says she's still got some Talent left in her. And Strauss is stronger than she is."

Jin looked sharply at Aki in the rearview mirror. His knuckles on the steering wheel turned white.

Aki ran a hand down his face. "What about Lip and Mark?"

"They're almost there. They don't wanna talk to you and risk anyone hearin' your approach, but they're goin' in. Aki, they can handle this. You know you don't have to do this, lad."

"Two isn't enough."

"Jen's in there—"

_"K'so_ ," Aki hissed, reaching up to press his fingers to his brow. He didn't even want to talk about it. Didn't want to think about counting her as an ally now. And not just with Ken involved, but with David? With David, and... "You think I _trust_ her?"

"We're usin' all we have in one go," Dylan countered. "What if the place blows up, mate? What if none of you come out? I think it's fuckin' dumb to risk everyone but me."

"Well I don't," Aki said bluntly. "I don't. We don't know what we're walking into. We might need everyone. And Ken..." his throat tightened for a minute. "If I die in there, if I can't help him after, you just have to step up. All of you. Whoever's left." He dropped his hand and shook his head, looking out the window at the empty fields along the freeway, concrete barricades racing by. "I can't not go in, Dylan."

There was silence on the line, and then Dylan sighed tiredly. "Be fuckin' careful, then, Aki. And if you need to run, fuckin' _run_."

_"Aa._ "

"I mean it, lad. You fuckin' survive this."

"Do what you can from there."

"Yeah. Stay away from that fuckin' Strauss. If he's between you and Ken..."

"I'll try."

"Just...Aki, I better fuckin' see you after this."

"Well." Aki felt a lump of dread in his chest. He couldn't deny all fear. He wasn't stupid. "Cross your fingers."

"Yeah. Talk to you soon, lad. And tell David..."

"I will."

"Right."

_"Sayonara_."

Dylan took a breath as if to say something else, but only let it out and ended the call.

#  39. Just Like Old Times

"Here we go," Mark said, looking at the hospital-like complex from the top of the hill where he stood with Lip. Somewhere inside, Jen was creeping behind the walls. Kel was probably locked in a cell somewhere, or a lab, drugged and in restraints. A hundred Talents were trying to recover their senses after having their psychic abilities obliterated by Ken. And Ken...God only knew what was happening to Ken.

If Ken's previous outburst and its effects on Aki, Dylan and David were any indication, they could have a couple of hours before the KGA Talents started to recover—and a few more hours, at least, before they all experienced that mysterious increase in power. But then, Aki, Dylan and David were hardly the strongest stock when Ken hit them. KGA Talents might have taken less damage, might recover faster, might get even stronger. There was no way to know. They could very well be walking into a death trap. A time-bomb, at best.

But Mark liked that kind of thing.

"You must be excited," Lip said. "You might actually get your ass kicked."

Mark snorted softly. "You know me too well."

"You're still my best mate."

They started down the hill. They were less than a quarter-mile from the building, but there was almost no cover but a few scattered groves of poplar trees. They sprinted to the nearest one, about halfway there, and paused.

"Kel's your best mate," Mark said. "Don't sweet-talk now. It's bad luck."

"I'm lucky enough to have more than one best friend."

"Not lucky. It's called not being an asshole." Mark scanned the building, looking for the best entrance. "I'm the lucky one."

"You're the asshole." Lip corrected. "Though you are easier to get along with on a job."

Mark laughed under his breath as he pulled his gun from the holster inside his waistband. "Maybe if we had more KGAs to go after I wouldn't be such a dick all the time." He checked the gun and put it back.

"There's a thought." Lip frowned in concentration, checking the comm device in his ear. "I don't like how easy this is. How can they not have security?"

"Kel always said they were stupid." Mark frowned, as well. "Relying on Talent. And Kel knows best."

"Kel knows best," Lip agreed. "Guess they never figured there was a Ken out there." He sighed. "All right. Fuck. Let's get this done."

"Main entrance? They'll be rallied around the assets inside if they have any sense."

Lip nodded. They started forward.

The main foyer looked like a generic corporate lobby. The decor was all white and chrome, slightly outdated, but immaculate. It was, as Mark predicted, deserted. "No alarms?" he muttered to Lip as they moved in deeper.

A lone man appeared ahead of them as they rounded the first corner. He was unarmed, dressed in gray pants and a white button-down, and he looked sick, with bloodstains beneath his nose and ears. But he recognized them as outsiders and came toward them at a quick clip.

Mark stepped forward and absorbed the man's lunge, flipping him over his shoulder easily and pivoting on his heel. He pulled the man up by the front of his shirt, dodging a wild swing without trouble and knocking him out with one punch. Mark and Lip moved on, exchanging a look.

"Should we get behind the walls?" Lip asked. "Hold on." He paused to toss a sonar device up onto the ceiling, then pulled out his phone to watch a digital map take shape as the device read as much of the structure as it could reach.

"I don't know yet," Mark said. "They keep the labs underground. That's where Ken will be."

"Dylan." Lip activated his comm unit. "You gettin' this?"

"Yeah. You guys inside? Aki's on his way with David. Couldn't talk 'im out of it. Jin, too."

"Who the fuck said Jin could come?"

"Aki's call."

"Idiots," Lip said, purely out of concern. "Fine. Let's do this before they have to get in too deep." He flashed the half-formed map at Mark, who nodded. It wasn't much help when it couldn't show them Ken, but it did confirm that they could move quickly through vents and elevator shafts. They headed forward with new purpose. "Dylan, can you stop the lifts?"

"Yeah. Gimme ten seconds."

"Good." They stopped at the first elevator they came to. Lip stepped aside.

Mark kicked the doors, buckling them enough to get a grip on one side. He yanked it open, glanced up, and snorted. "Why's it always gotta be above us? Ever noticed that?"

"Every fuckin' time," Lip said warily, glancing up at the stalled elevator before he swung down into the shaft. "Son of a bitch."

"I'll protect you."

"Stop bein' in a good mood."

Mark knew he didn't mean it. This was just how they talked when they worked, always had been. The banter kept them relaxed.

"Swear to God," Lip grumbled as they scrambled down the wires and beams of the elevator shaft. "If that kid's hurt, I'm gonna fuckin' nuke this place."

"Sounds expensive."

"I'll rob Jackson. After I roast him on a fuckin' spit."

"Aussies and their barbecue."

Lip laughed under his breath.

Dylan's voice came through the intercom. "Aki's just arrived."

"Does he have comm?" Mark asked.

"Mark?" Aki's voice cut in.

"Yeah. Me and Lip."

"We're coming in," Aki said. "You should stay on the outside so we know we can get out."

"You fuckin' serious, mate?" Lip asked.

_"Aa._ "

Mark scoffed under his breath and climbed a few feet down to the closest set of doors. He swung his legs away, then brought his feet in a fierce swoop to crash against them. Bracing himself on the opposite side of the frame, he yanked one side open as he had before.

"We're on UA," Lip said after a glance at his phone, climbing onto the floor after Mark. "Not so empty down here." There were a dozen in the hall.

"That's weapons and intelligence," Aki said, sounding irritated. "The most populated."

"Not our fault." Lip pocketed the phone as Mark started in on the right, fighting Talents to the ground in a flurry of kicks and punches. Lip took the other direction, clearing the hall before he ran to catch up with Mark. "What do you think? Do what Aki says?"

"No. Let's find Kel."

#  40. Jin Wishes They Could Just Not

Jin was in a rage on the way to KGA. He felt like he could tear down a mountain to get to Ken, especially now that Jackson had gone so far above and beyond to fuck with him.

But after they left the car on the side of the road five miles outside of Toronto, trekked through the maple tree-covered terrain, and reached the top of the hill where they had a clear view of KGA, Jin's rage wobbled. He felt like he was going to puke.

KGA always felt the same, looked the same, no matter what city it was in. Jin hadn't been inside for years, since Berlin. He'd had his turn getting fucked up by Strauss, and he wore the brands on his bones. Sometimes he still dreamed of white walls and bright lights and Strauss's vicious Talent shredding him apart.

Jin had learned to keep those memories in a dull, gray part of his brain where he never had to look. But he had never truly forgotten the agony, the helplessness, the humiliation of having his instincts and emotions completely taken over by someone else. Locked in a room with Strauss, flung from one extreme feeling to the next until he couldn't tell which reactions were his own anymore—until his pride had been shot through with the terror Strauss conjured, until Strauss reduced him to a battered, blubbering worm. And, of course, the grand finale: Strauss raging deep into the heart of him, gouging into the core of his psyche, tearing it all apart.

Then it was down to the labs, where his ruined mind was picked, peeled and prodded until Jackson pulled him out. Jin's first coherent memory after KGA was sitting at a table with Jackson, sluggish and dumb. His shields, his psychostructure—now his pride and joy—had been reduced to jelly, and his body was victim to strange tics, remnants of the horrors they'd put him through. At first he couldn't understand Jackson's words over the thousands of voices clattering in his head and the echoes of his own screams.

But when he locked eyes with the precognitive, everything went quiet. Jackson worked with him every waking minute, helping him to rebuild his psychostructure and rediscover his strength. Soon the only wound left from KGA was a deep, visceral fear that it could all happen again.

When Jackson promised to never send him back to KGA, Jin believed him because he wanted to. When Jackson said he was going to _destroy_ KGA, Jin thought he was crazy. Even as he grew to trust Jackson, it was impossible to imagine one man, one precognitive, pulling that off. Even after Giovanni and Rinzen joined them, even after Jin came to understand what Jackson could do with a little power and a few steps ahead of the enemy, it was an insane proposition. Like tearing down the sky. That was how impossible. But Jackson had won his faith in the end, with that fucking Key prophecy.

Jackson's promise to free them from KGA had been a potent lure. Destroying KGA was the only way to cure that fear they'd planted in him, the fear that lay quiet but never disappeared. Like a dormant infection lurking at the base of his spine.

That fear slithered up and coiled around him now as he ran with David and Aki across the grassy terrain surrounding the facilities. When they passed through the chrome double doors and crossed the threshold, Jin nearly retched. Stepping into KGA was literally fucking sickening.

Fuck. Jin bent over and braced his hands on his knees, furious at his own mind for letting it overwhelm him. _Fuck._

David and Aki continued forward, then stopped and turned when he didn't follow. "Seriously?" Aki thundered.

"Shut up," Jin shot back, struggling to choke back that humiliating, toxic panic. This wasn't _him._ This was what they'd done to him, the disease Strauss had given him in the course of his twisted violations.

This wasn't him. This was what they had _tried_ to turn him into—a cowering, misshapen slave. But they hadn't done it. It wasn't him.

Ken. Jin dug his fingers into his knees. _Focus._ Cautiously he opened his mind and swept his Talent over the premises, though everything in him screamed in protest. Using his Talent here, revealing himself and his power inside these walls, made him want to fucking kill himself.

But the thought of Ken down there was somehow even worse. What had happened to make him blow up already? And why wasn't it all over yet? What if Strauss was still with him right now?

"There's about a hundred," Jin said finally, his eyes still closed and his voice tight with nausea. He could feel them, empaths and telepaths and pyros and telekinetics, their Talents all at a fraction of what they should have been, but unmistakably regaining their strength. "They're all scrambled up. But they're recovering. You need to kill them," he said, finally looking at Aki. "All of them. Fast. As many as you can."

"Fine." A glint appeared in Aki's eye that Jin would have appreciated on any other occasion. But not now.

All he could think was that if the Talents were recovering, and Strauss hadn't been incapacitated in the first place, they were all fucked. _Fucked_. And if Ken did make it out of this, he'd probably kill Jin for bringing these bozos into the snake pit.

But Aki wouldn't be reasoned with, he knew, not with Ken on the line; and David, he was an O'Reilly. They were all fucking nuts.

"What about Ken?" David asked. "Where is he?"

"I can't tell." Jin forced his legs to move and started forward, his eyes fixed on the cold, white maw of the first visible hallway. "Start killing. Stay together and work your way down. He's probably down in the labs, or intake—they're close together, always on the lower floors. If you find them, just...if you see Strauss, fuckin' shoot him. Just shoot him. Don't even let him see you."

"What about you?" David asked.

"I'll look for him, too." They reached the first T-shaped intersection. "But I gotta stay hidden. They might just be inspired to get their shit together if they knew I was here."

"Fine," Aki said, and then gave Jin a grudging nod. "Be careful."

With that, the two idiot halfwit dumbass Talents took off down the hall at a run.

As soon as they were out of sight, Jin slammed a fist against the wall and took several deep, ragged breaths. His pulse pounded in his ears. The fear was telling him to run. He could make it out now, if he ran. He could make it to Jackson. Why the _fuck_ had he left Jackson?

_No._ How could he think that way? How could he even _think_ of letting KGA scare him out of fighting for the only person he would ever come this far for?

Jin knocked his forehead against the wall and thought of Ken.

He thought of the last time he'd seen Ken, just days ago in the hotel room in California, standing outside over the crashing waves, sagging over the railing with his hands pressed to his brow. The kid had looked so strangely disconcerted, so uncharacteristically hopeless. Had looked _afraid_ , Jin realized suddenly.

God, the kid had probably sensed it. Was Aki right? Had he seen this coming?

An urgent feeling swelled in his chest. He exhaled through his teeth and remembered Ken on the balcony, stepping slowly into his arms. Ken's face pressed into his neck. Ken's arms around him all night. Ken's strangely troubled face, looking anywhere but at Jin, while the rest of his body softened, accepting, asking—asking for what?

What _was_ that? Why had he opened up like that? Why had he ever trusted Jin at all?

Ken.

Ken and Strauss.

Ken and Strauss together, down in the labs.

No. Ken wasn't theirs. He wasn't Jackson's. If he was anyone's, he was fucking _Jin's_. No one else could have him. They hadn't put in the work. They hadn't even earned one of those scowls. The beautiful monster, with his freaky green eyes and his sharp lips and his terrifying power, he wasn't supposed to _be_ here.

It wasn't right, and Jin couldn't stand it. It didn't even matter if Ken could take it, if by some twist of fate he could make it through this on his own. KGA had no right to drug him, to lock him up, to slide into his head and break things.

Jin's nails bit into his fists as he started down the hallway opposite of the way Aki and David had gone, electric with anger. Fuck KGA. And fuck Jackson for thinking Jin could be scared out of this. And fuck Aki, too. Jin wasn't a coward. He wasn't Sky. And he hadn't fought his way behind Ken's razor-wire borders just to watch some other asshole drag him back down to a new kind of hell.

Maybe he didn't know what the fuck to do, but he wasn't going to sit back and wait for this to go down. He was gonna find Ken. He was gonna help the kid win this if it killed him.

Anyway, he was twenty-two and a telepath—he was supposed to be dead already. Fuck it.

#  41. Jackson Admits It

He'd been arrogant.

The precognitive stood on the stone terrace of the mansion in Vermont where Jin had left him the night before, hands in his trouser pockets, gazing at the tree-lined horizon. The sun was well above it now. Hundreds of miles away it was shining on KGA, where a battle was waging, where only a particular measure of victory was certain.

The cost of arrogance, it seemed, was this agonizing sense of powerlessness.

The unlikeliest thread of events had come to pass. Jin was on his way into KGA. And none of Jackson's efforts to stop him had worked. His appeal to Jin's loyalty had fallen on deaf ears. He'd failed to convince the other Talents to exclude the telepath from their brash rescue efforts. Now Jin was flirting with his own destruction, all because Jackson had sent him adrift and failed, in the end, to pull him back and tether him again.

Clearly Jin had cracked under the strain of loving Ken while working for Jackson. And Jackson, too, found the conflict unexpectedly hard to bear. For all his intricate prophecies, he could not have predicted the pain that would come with watching Jin's devotion to him shrivel up and die before his eyes, or the fear that would strike him when Jin set out to throw his life away.

He'd warned the telepath, so long ago, that he was underestimating what it would be like to fall in love with the Key. He should have taken that advice for himself.

There was a stranger power in what developed between the two prodigious young Talents than he'd ever predicted. And at this rate, it would be Jin's undoing.

Jackson looked down at the stone slabs beneath his feet, frowning like he had never frowned before.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. A forwarded call from an encrypted number, directed to an open satellite line Jackson kept. He hadn't picked up any calls to that number in a long while, but today there was a chance it could be Jen or one of the other Talents from within KGA.

"Yes?" he answered.

"Jackson Gadamer." Strauss's voice was tense, and there was an unfamiliar breathiness to it, as if he were trying to conceal an exertion.

Jackson looked up at the sky, cracking a slight smile. "Yes?"

"I think I have something of yours. Ugly thing. Crooked eyes. Covered in scars. Sound familiar?"

"No. You sound ill."

"He'll lead me to Jin." It had the cadence of a schoolyard threat. "Wait until you hear what your telepath sounds like when I'm done with him, Jackson."

"I'm afraid I'll have to miss it."

"No, I'll make sure you experience it one way or another."

"Hm." Jackson turned from the trees and walked slowly back into the house, one hand in his pocket.

"I was impressed. The mongrel you sent in, that was a grand find. Shame you wasted him on a doomed effort."

"You have no use for him?"

"I have the _Key,_ Jackson. I suppose you thought you'd trick me with that malnourished little shit."

"No tricks here, Strauss."

"Oh, you're _bold_ from a distance, aren't you?"

Jackson smirked. At times it astonished him that Strauss was his nemesis, and that such a divine and monstrous Talent could be in the hands of someone so shortsighted and petty. Meeting Ken had clearly unhinged him. That was good. It pained Jackson that he couldn't be there to see it.

"I knew there'd be a twist," Strauss continued. "I knew that prophecy was laced with bullshit, like all your prophecies. _He, him, his._ _So unremarkable he'll be in danger of being overlooked._ Sly, Jackson! Do you think me so provincial I wouldn't recognize a _woman_ as the Key?"

For a moment Jackson forgot what he'd been brooding about as a grin spread slowly across his face. "I don't know what you expect me to say."

"Nothing," Strauss spat. "I expect to see your head on a fucking pike, you arrogant piece of shit."

"And what if one of my mongrels gets to you before your Talent recovers?" It was an unpleasant bluff to make, given that Jackson knew the reality, but he wanted Strauss to say more. One should never take for granted an opportunity to distract a target.

"You think I'm without my Talent?" Strauss practically hooted. "Oh, Christ, Jackson, you really are arrogant. You thought that little runt could knock me down?"

Jackson looked out the windows at the sky again, nodding for his own pleasure. Yes. Yes, and he still did.

"Cat got your tongue? Are you fond of him, too? Is he another of your disgusting pets? Then you can look forward to that spectacle, as well. I'll make _you_ flay him. I don't need him. I have the Key. _I_ found her. And she's _perfect_. I don't need your crippled freaks!"

"Why did you call me, Strauss?"

"To tell you you've lost!"

Jackson held the phone away from his ear as Strauss roared, satisfied on some primal level by the man's impotent rage. Jackson might have lost some assets in this battle, but Strauss was losing his mind. "I hope you're wrong," Jackson said mildly, "but we'll just have to see."

"You're dead, Gadamer. And so is your telepath."

The line cut.

Jackson lowered the phone, and the momentary feelings of satisfaction faded just as quickly. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. If only there was more to do than wait.

He dared to hope there would be more survivors than himself, Rinzen, Giovanni, Dylan, and a debilitated Ken. He dared to hope for Jin. He dared to be sure that no matter how hard the telepath had fallen for the Key, his learned fear of KGA was a more formidable emotion.

Jin was not suicidal. His spectacular will to live was one of the more remarkable things about him. Self-preservation would save him in the end. Jackson didn't need his Talent to predict that the telepath would do whatever it took to stay out of Strauss's way.

But that was all the reassurance Jackson would have. That was all he'd know, until the battle was done and he could survey the wreckage himself.

#  42. Aki and the Devil

Aki was having a grim version of fun slaughtering KGA Talents with his fists and feet. He'd only killed on occasion since he'd joined Mark and the others in Paris. Almost every time he'd accepted one of ARSI's freelance missions, there'd been at least a security guard or two who just couldn't be spared. But he hadn't taken out so many people since he'd killed his father and all his guards.

Not that he took any particular pleasure in random executions. But with a cause to drive him, he embraced the violence of his Talent with relish. It was one thing he shared with Mark, who had confessed to him once that fighting to the death was the only time he ever felt he was exercising his full potential. Aki understood that. And this felt like justice. Fighting his way through ranks of KGA agents to get to Ken was the purest opportunity to be brutal he'd had since that day in Tokyo. To kill with a pure heart was a perversely fine sensation.

The Talents were recovering, as Jin had said. Many attempted to use their gifts, but were too weak to penetrate David and Aki's shields, which hadn't suffered in the slightest. The pyrokinetics and telekinetics were the biggest challenge. The pyros got a few hits in; Aki had a red cheek and a blistered arm to show for it. The telekinetics tried to push him back, but it only meant he had to exert more effort to land his blows, and that was all right. He liked it that way.

One by one and two by two and occasionally even in threes, Aki took the Talents down with quick, brute force, his fists smashing through eye sockets, his feet crushing chests and windpipes. Thirty-one down so far, and counting. A hundred or so were here, he'd heard; he rounded it up to a hundred and fifty, just to be sure. He wished they had more time. He'd take them all down himself, just for the satisfaction.

David followed closely, backing him up and warning him who was ahead. It was strange to think Luke was in there, too, and that here they were again, Aki and Luke, fighting to save Ken from a mad psychic just as they'd once saved him from Jen. Aki hoped the outcome would be better this time, but it would be enough just to break even. It would be enough to get him out, alive and well.

"Mark's been here," David said, nodding to a mangled set of elevator doors. They'd already bashed through one themselves and descended two floors, though they were on a level called U6. The place was a giant, infuriating puzzle, and Lip's partial map was largely useless. "Let's go down."

Before they could, Jen sprang up into the frame.

She looked between them, betraying a hint of shock at the sight of David, and then her eyes settled on Aki. "Aki."

Aki didn't drop his guard. "What are you doing?"

"What's on this floor?"

"Nobody important."

"You sure?"

"What are you doing?" he repeated coldly.

"Looking for Strauss. And something's wrong with Ken. I'm not sure he can fight anymore."

Aki clenched his fists. "How do you know? Where is he?"

"I can feel him. My Talent's coming back. Which means Strauss's will be, too. I need to get to him before he decides he's ready to deal with Ken."

"Fine. You get Strauss, we'll get Ken. Where is he?"

"U4, I think. I was there once. Metal slabs on the walls. I just can't find it now."

"And Strauss?"

"Probably a secure cell, working on his shields. And the empathic field is coming back. It's only getting more disorienting."

"Fuck me," David muttered. "Where does this shaft lead?"

Jen didn't look at David, shaking her head. "Garage. Nothing."

Aki turned away from her.

David lingered a moment to produce an extra comm device and toss it to her. "Tell Mark and Lip."

"Thank God," she muttered, and immediately placed it in her ear. "Look for unopened elevators," she called after them. "And if you find Strauss, shoot to kill."

"She better save the fuckin' day," David said as they broke into a run.

Aki hoped one day he'd get a chance to make up for not kicking her down that elevator shaft.

#  43. Jin Hits the Spot

Jin was trying to deal with the distinct possibility that he was completely fucked.

He stayed behind the walls, his shields clamped down, declining to listen to the Talents recovering around him. The thought of Ken being ripped apart kept him going, but the deeper he ventured into KGA, the more impossible it seemed that he, or anyone, would make it out of this alive. Who knew how strong they were by now? They wouldn't have to be strong to recognize him if they spotted him. They wouldn't have to be strong to send echoes of warning through the ranks.

At least Aki, Mark and Lip were killing them quickly. He imagined their numbers had been halved, at least, considering all the floors they'd moved through. But it only took one empath to ruin a day.

Gingerly, Jin lifted a ventilation hatch and peered down into the next bright and empty hallway.

Metal slabs on the walls. His gut dropped. He'd reached the intake floor, or the laboratory wing. One was never far from the other, and they always looked the same.

Jin replaced the hatch and collapsed in the vent, eyes shut, his pulse hammering in his throat.

Ken had to be here. Problem Talents never got past the labs. Jin couldn't guess where Strauss was. Maybe he'd run off to nurse his wounds. Maybe he was hovering over Ken, poised to strike again as soon as he was strong enough. Jin clenched his teeth, trying to draw a full breath into his lungs.

Fuck. What was he doing? There wasn't time for this shit, and fuck Strauss. And fuck himself for letting KGA turn him into a little fucking shit-chicken. Yeah, fuck _that_.

Jin tore the hatch aside again and jumped down into the hallway. Instantly he realized he'd landed in front of one of the metal slabs shielding an observation window, and ducked. It was too late to avoid the motion sensor, and the plate began to lift. Jin faltered, waiting long enough to peer through the crack that appeared at the bottom and scan the rows of naked Talents.

Most were moving in their restraints, their drugs wearing off and no one there to dose them again. He spotted Kel in the back left corner, and they made eye contact. Jin nodded to him briefly, but couldn't stay to help. Kel nodded back, somehow understanding.

The long white hallway with its silent chrome doors stretched ahead of him, as chilling as any horror movie. Any second one of those doors could open. Any second an empath could step out— _Strauss_ could step out. Any second Jin could lose the will to fight, become a puppet again in KGA's hands.

One cell was open at the end of the hallway, and when he focused on it, a tremor ran through his body. But then a muffled sob drifted faintly from that room and jolted him into motion. He sprinted down the hall and burst into the cell.

"Jesus," he breathed.

Ken was curled on his side at the foot of the vertical pallet to which he'd clearly been strapped. He was dressed in one of those fucking gowns, his legs and arms exposed and trembling. It looked like there wasn't an ounce of strength in his body.

Jin slid to his knees and pulled the kid up by the shoulders. "Ken," he said, shaking him. "Ken."

Ken looked at him. His face was messy with tears, his eyes so red and swollen he was almost unrecognizable. But it was his expression that made a knot of dread form in Jin's chest.

Strauss had gotten him, all right. Ken's eyes had been invaded by pitiable weakness, by impotent despair. He was completely devoid of energy. There was no fight left. There was nothing but defeat.

"Let's go," Jin said, ignoring the painful feeling in his chest as he looked between those mismatched eyes. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."

Ken pulled away, crumpling again. His shields were gone, and his thoughts were loud and clear. He'd lost. He'd given up. He was waiting to die. He'd lost. He'd given up. He was waiting to die. _He'd lost. He'd given up. He wanted to die._

Jin pulled him upright again. "No," he said fiercely, sweeping his telepathy through those thoughts, trying to push them away. "This isn't you. This is Strauss. Come on. You're not gonna lose this, kid. You gotta get us out of here."

But Ken only sobbed inconsolably, limp in his arms. _Tired. Done. Over._

Jin's fist tightened in his hair, a new kind of panic rising.

It wasn't working. Strauss had warped Ken's emotions in a way Jin couldn't touch. It didn't matter what Jin did to his thoughts. The feelings beneath them were beyond his reach. Where the hell was Sky when they actually needed him?

"David," he said, activating the comm unit. "I need you. Now. Strauss fucked him up, I can't fix it."

"Where are you?"

"In a cell on U4." How was he supposed to explain the maze of vents, tunnels and elevator shafts he'd wandered to get here? In desperation he relayed his route telepathically, even though that could give his presence away, and even though it would do little good when he had no idea where Aki and David were now. "Ken," he said, and pressed his ear to Ken's. "Listen. Aki came for you. He needs you."

We're all dead. We're all dead. We're all dead.

"Ken?" Aki's voice was sharp and clear. "Ken, come on. You can do this."

You're dead. We're all dead. Let's just die.

"Ken!" Jin snapped, shaking him again. Tears of frustration threatened again. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

He's coming.

Jin closed his eyes.

Jackson's prophecy of Ken's ruin blared through his head, and now he saw it bearing down on them. Because what was Strauss going to do now? How would Ken take it? He was already in worse shape than Jin had ever imagined seeing him. How much more could his mind survive? And if he did go nuclear, how would he have the sense to spare any of the Talents within these walls?

Jin could see it all ahead. Ken would be the last one alive, a mess of insanity with none of his friends left to even try and save him. It was just like Jackson said.

"Jin, get him out," Aki snapped in his ear. "Just get him out of there."

He's coming.

Jin brushed a damp strand of hair out of Ken's eyes. "Look at me," he murmured, but Ken's eyes were squeezed shut. His spirit was gone. Every thought in him had melted into a puddle of impotence. Nothing Jin's telepathy could do would change it. He felt his own face crumpling as hopelessness began to take hold.

And then an absurd idea struck him, an idea so horrible it came in on a wave of disgust.

He's coming.

If Ken had to be Triggered—if that was the inevitability in Jackson's plan, the twist that destroyed KGA—who said there was only one way to do it? Who said he was the only psychic who could wake up a dragon? Strauss wasn't the only one who could get inside a motherfucker's head.

Closing his eyes, Jin pressed his lips to Ken's forehead and held his trembling body as tightly as he could.

"Get out of here," he hissed. "Kill Strauss and get out of here."

With that, he reached into Ken's raw and open mind, aiming straight for the core.

Jin wasn't Strauss. He didn't have to slash and burn his way inside. He moved in with surgical precision, boring a path deeper than he'd ever bored. The effort made his eyes ache, but he drilled on, farther and farther, down to that icy place where Ken's Talent lay—and they it was, flickering weakly. Jin hoped that was enough. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he prayed for a clean shot, a quick and effective Trigger unlike anything Strauss, in all his brutality, could ever attempt.

Ken was shaking harder in his arms, overwhelmed by the invasion. Jesus. _Jesus_ , this was insane, but there wasn't time to hesitate. Jin hugged him tighter.

"Fuck him up, Damien," Jin whispered, and blasted Ken with everything he had.

Ken let out a choked, horrible sound. Blood spurted from his nose. His eyes shot open and rolled back. His body went stiff in Jin's arms and then began to convulse. For one unbearable moment, his thoughts turned scrambled, wordless and shrill.

And then he slumped. Silent.

Jin let go involuntarily, falling back on the floor. His mind screamed in agony. He could feel the blood on his own face. His vision was swimming, his head rolling. For several moments he forgot where he was.

And then a low, familiar voice brought him back.

"Congratulations," Strauss said. "You killed him."

#  44. Strauss Cuts the Shit

Jin struggled to get upright, but his limbs kept buckling beneath him.

"What were you trying to do? _Trigger_ him?" Strauss snorted. "Jesus. Really bought into Jackson's bullshit, didn't you?"

A sharp kick brought Jin off the floor for a moment. He retched, blood spattering from his mouth. Rage bubbled through his delirium and he flailed an arm, too late to catch Strauss's leg.

"That's no job for a telepath. But you did save me some work. I had a feeling this one was more trouble than he was worth." Strauss kicked him in the face this time, making his vision scatter. "How can Jackson think he can bring me down with these fucking _misfits_?"

Jin grunted as Strauss yanked him up from the floor by his hair and threw him against the wall.

"It's over," Strauss said. "You wasted your shot."

Jin blinked. His eyes were sticky with blood, and he could only make out the distorted shape of Strauss standing above him. He couldn't see Ken.

"You cost me a lot of money today, with all these dead Talents. But I'll find more. And I've got the Key, so it's a net gain for me." Strauss laughed. "And I've got you! _Finally_. What a day."

"Weak," Jin wheezed as he felt Strauss's stunted empathy worming into his head.

"You think so? You're not in great shape yourself. I guess that makes this fair."

The peeling. The fucking _peeling_. Strauss was stripping his battered shields, skinning his mind to bare him for an attack.

"I wanted to make Jackson do this," Strauss murmured, "but I've lost patience."

The empath was right. Jin had wrecked himself with exertion. He had no defenses left. He only hoped Strauss would take him apart slowly enough for Ken to come back to life before the empath fully recovered...

"Just so you know," Strauss whispered, "I'm not going to kill you."

Jin screamed as it began, as Strauss's empathy tore into him like a pack of hellhounds. It didn't matter that Strauss was weakened. He knew exactly what to do to take a telepath apart, how to course through Jin's mind in a white-hot blaze and tear his psychostructure up at the roots.

_No, no, no—_ Jin's thoughts turned to panicked gibberish as he scrambled to escape.

NO

But he was too slow. And it was too late.

\- - -

Strauss smiled at the telepath's seizures, letting his Talent run through the despicable Russian's head.

"Yes," he replied to Jin's final thoughts. "Good riddance." Perhaps he would kill Jin after all, when he had a gun handy. For now, it was fine to leave him this way, a steaming pile of insanity. He kicked Jin once more for good measure, right in the chest.

The empath turned to regard the strange little creature Jin had left dead on the floor. His mismatched green eyes were half-lidded, glazed and lifeless. Strauss could feel his friends wandering through the facility, but he wasn't concerned. A gaggle of physicals and a single untrained empath would be no match for him, injured Talent or no.

He headed for the door and turned into the hall, only to be confronted by an unlikely pair.

"Oh," he said, his mood sullied at once. "I see."

"Doubt it," Kel said, dressed only in a stolen pair of pants. The Key stood beside him, her eyes blazing with hate.

Strauss felt Jen's Talent slam against his shields. It was enough to make him stumble back, but not enough to disorient him. "Oh, you stupid cunt," he hissed, and straightened up to stalk toward her.

He lashed back with his empathy, but her shields had recovered as well as his. To his disgust, they were quite nearly evenly matched. She turned to fists, her partner backing her up.

They wrestled him to the ground, but Strauss was older and more experienced. Each time they pinned him, he escaped. Each time he got one, the other fought him back. All the while he rammed at Jen's shields, and she rammed at his.

Both were buckling. It was a race to the finish.

Strauss felt rage boiling up inside of his mind. He'd lost control of his emotions since Ken's attack, but that was fine. He could use it. He roared as he smashed Jen's face into the floor, feeling her spike of alarm as the impact made her head swim. Even as Kel dragged him off and slammed him against the wall, Strauss seized the moment to send another blast, breaking through her shields at last.

Jen shouted in mental pain, throwing all of her focus into repelling him as he began to claw his way into her head.

He was winning. Of _course_ he was winning. He would win, and then he'd take Jen's mangled little mind and body down to the labs, strap her in, and strip her of everything she was worth. Like he gave a shit if the Key lived or died. All he'd ever needed was her DNA...

A gunshot rang out in the hallway.

Strauss, Kel, and Jen all looked at the shooter: The Japanese boy, Aki, stood several yards down the hall with a handgun aimed straight at Strauss's head. He fired again, and again, his face creasing in frustrated confusion as Strauss remained unharmed.

But he wasn't missing. The bullets were simply stopping before they reached Strauss, colliding with some invisible barrier and clattering to the floor.

A telekinetic could do that. But Strauss was not a telekinetic.

"Back," Ken growled from the doorway of the cell where he'd been left.

Strauss couldn't react. He couldn't even attempt it. To his shock, to his howling rage, his own Talent had blinked out of existence.

Kel and Jen backed away from him, their eyes on the bloodied beast lurching out of the doorway.

Ken was unsteady, shaking; he stumbled once before his arm shot out and he caught his balance on the wall. But his mismatched green eyes were cold and feral, and the rage radiating from him was palpable. It pricked at Strauss's skin, his mind, like a thousand needles. Pricked, then stabbed, and then tore.

There were no words. Strauss had no response. For the first time in his life, he knew what it meant to be helpless.

Strauss grunted as he was flung out of his own consciousness and into a reality he didn't recognize. For one still moment he looked around and found himself in a dark, cold cell, surrounded by men in masks.

All at once, agony descended upon him like a flock of green-eyed demons. He was yanked, dragged at a breakneck pace through a gauntlet of torments so twisted, so specific, they could only have come from the minds of the most perverse sadists; theirs, or the mind of one who had suffered at their hands.

Real time disappeared. Strauss felt hours, weeks, years of pain. He lived a lifetime of agony.

Only when his mind had been obliterated by pain and fear, when his only thoughts were desperate pleas for it to stop, did he begin to die. And even then, there was no mercy in it.

#  45. The Gang's All Here

Lip and Mark arrived in time to see the last of it. They were all together in the hallway, Kel, Jen, Aki, David, and the two of them, scattered loosely around Ken as he stood over Strauss. The empath writhed and screamed, sobbed and blubbered. Ken simply stared.

When Strauss went still at last, his face frozen pathetically in fear, Ken held out a hand without taking his eyes off the empath.

"Gun."

Aki passed it to him without hesitating and watched as Ken destroyed the empath's head with every shot in the chamber.

There was an eerie silence. Ken just stood there at Aki's side, swaying slightly. His hair was a mess, his face and gown streaked in blood, and his eyes were cold and still.

"We should go," Lip said.

"No," Ken muttered.

Strauss's body burst into white flames.

They all stepped back from the sudden flash of heat. Lip frowned and exchanged a startled look with Mark, who shrugged, looking more impressed than alarmed. Mark looked at Jen, who was watching in horrified fascination as Strauss was reduced to a pile of ashes on the floor.

"Ken," Aki said, and waited for Ken's eyes to meet his. "What's going on?"

Ken reached up and wiped a forearm across the sticky blood staining his mouth. "Nothing," he said roughly. "I won."

"You did," Aki said, and cautiously put his hand on Ken's shoulder. When Ken allowed it, Aki pulled him away from Strauss and hugged him briefly, exhaling in relief. He pulled back and searched Ken's face. "So what now? We need to get out of here."

"I'm not leaving," Ken said with a scoff.

Aki shook his head, uncomprehending. "What?"

"I'm not leaving."

There was another moment of stunned silence. Even Kel cocked his head, concerned.

"Why?" Aki asked.

"Because that's what Jackson wants," Ken said, his voice turning to thunder. "Wants you to take me home so he can come take over. Thinks he'll be in charge now, when _I'm_ the one who did all the work." He jerked a hand toward Strauss's ashes, and they flew off down the hallway in a roiling cloud. " _I_ took it. Not him. _I_ did it. Now it's _mine._ "

Aki stared speechlessly for a moment before he asked, "But then what if he shows up?"

Ken lowered his voice to a dark whisper. "I wish he fucking would."

Kel laughed suddenly, breaking the tension in the air.

Ken looked at him, disarmed, and found himself pulled into the older Talent's arms.

"Pulled it off," Kel said, and planted a kiss on top of Ken's head. "I knew you would. I told you."

Ken slowly relaxed in Kel's arms, letting his head fall forward and reaching up to grip Kel's bare shoulders.

"We're with you," Kel said firmly. "Whatever you want to do. You did great, Ken."

"Thank you," Ken mumbled into his shoulder. They stood there for a long moment.

Lip shook his head, bewildered, and turned to Jen. She was leaning back against the wall, rubbing her brow—no doubt the battle with Strauss had left her with a headache, if not worse. Lip moved to her side. "What's goin' on?" he murmured warily. "We surrounded or what?"

"No," she replied, glancing upward. "They're all dead." Her eyes came back to Lip's, and she nodded meaningfully toward Ken.

"Okay," Lip said slowly, turning her words over in his head. "That's...good."

Mark spoke up. "Are we sure? Can we secure the place with four psychics between us?"

"Three," Jen corrected.

Ken pulled away from Kel and looked at her strangely. Then he went back toward the open cell, with Aki following close behind.

There was Jin, crumpled on the floor against the wall. The telepath wasn't dead, but his eyes were half-lidded and glazed, his breathing shallow.

"What's wrong with him?" Aki asked.

Ken stared down at the shivering telepath, his expression blank. After a long pause he said, "He's like you were." He paused again. His voice remained flat. "He's worse."

"He got to you first. Said Strauss had fucked you up. He was talking to you like you weren't yourself. What happened?"

"I don't remember." Ken slowly shook his head, his eyes still fixed on Jin, and a faint crease appeared between his brows. "He came in with you?"

"Yeah. He called us right after you were picked up and told us to meet him. Said he found out at the same time as we did. He helped us figure out when to come in."

"Jackson told him to do that?"

"Jackson told him not to."

Ken's frown deepened. "I don't understand."

"Ken."

Ken looked at him. His expression faltered, his fatigue showing through.

"You need rest." Aki said softly. "What if more KGA Talents show up?"

"They won't come without orders," Kel said, stepping inside with Mark following behind. "There's no command left."

"We'll call ARSI," Mark said. "Start cleaning up. All right, Ken?"

Ken nodded and tried to wipe his face again. His hands were shaking. He stepped forward, making as if to get Jin off of the floor.

"Hey. I got it." Mark stepped in front of him and lifted the telepath over his shoulders. "We saw an infirmary on the ground level. We can put him there."

"What did you do to Strauss, Ken?" Aki asked.

"I took his Talent."

_"Took_ it?"

Ken nodded. Hatred flared in his eyes again, along with an unmistakable sense of satisfaction. "Took it and used it."

"Ken," Aki said once more, and when he had the younger Talent's eyes, he reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder again. "You did great."

For a moment Ken looked almost confused. And then tiredness came over his features again, and he looked much more like himself. He reached up and put his hand on Aki's, his lips growing taut for a moment. "You shouldn't have come after me," he said, and then, "I knew you would."

Aki pulled him close for another hug, cradling the back of his head. This time Ken sank into the embrace. "You did it, Ken," Aki said. "Forget Jackson. You did it. I'm so proud of you. I've never been prouder in my life."

Ken buried his face in Aki's neck, hands digging into his shoulders. He had started to tremble. But if he was crying, Aki didn't let anyone see it.

#  46. Back to Reality

It was four in the morning when Lip decided to check in on Jin in the infirmary and found Ken slumped at a small desk in the corner, several feet from the telepath's bed.

"Hey, mate," Lip said, mildly surprised. It had only been sixteen hours. He'd expected Ken to sleep for days, the way Jin had slept when he'd first shown up in Paris.

Ken straightened slightly in the chair and rubbed his eyes. The room was lit now by a single fluorescent bar near the supply shelves on one side of the room, and the light that reached Ken and Jin was pale and full of shadows. "Hi," Ken said.

Lip studied Jin for a moment. It was an awful sight. It brought back all his memories of Aki the day after Jen had attacked him. Comatose was too restful a word. The telepath shuddered frequently, his eyelids twitching like he was dreaming, and his lips moved occasionally, though they formed no words. "Should I go?"

"No. What're you doing?"

"Just takin' a break." There was another chair against the wall at the front of the desk, and Lip took it. "Took a walk, thought I'd look in."

"How is everything?"

"Interesting."

"Talk to Jackson?"

Lip smirked. "Not yet. He's called a few times."

"You didn't answer?"

"Why should I?"

Ken breathed a laugh, surprised. It warmed his eyes considerably, and that was nice to see. It had been a dark few days for Ken.

"You weren't supposed to make it, I heard," Lip said. "Jackson told me it'd be a difficult recovery. Jin told Aki you were s'posed to end up in a coma, or that's what Jackson told him."

"I'm fine so far."

"Well, I don't think Jin was s'posed to get between you and Strauss." Lip looked again at the telepath. Already he looked thinner, his cheeks and eyes sinking. If he was really in the kind of shape Aki had been in after Jen's attack, he'd keep wasting away before their eyes. "You think you can help him?"

"Should I?"

_"Yeah_ , mate." Lip looked back at Ken, surprised, but then softened, realizing. "Jesus, you still don't remember it all," he guessed.

Ken shook his head. "I just woke up a while ago. I was gonna talk to Aki. I just...was...checking. On it."

The awkward moments were always cute, but Lip saw the tension in Ken's face. Poor fuckin' kid. No doubt he'd found it hard to leave Jin's side now that he'd seen him. Ken had been through this with Aki, too. Lip would never forget the iron resolve in Ken's eyes as he quietly told them all that Aki _would_ come back. They hadn't believed him, really. But they sure as hell knew better than to doubt him now.

"All I know," Lip said, "is he called Aki as soon as he found out. Helped him and David inside. And went down there for you."

Ken's shoulders rose slowly. "Maybe that was part of the plan."

Lip remembered the pitiful shape Jin had made on the floor, bloodied and broken and babbling meaningless gibberish under his breath. "I don't think so. I think Jackson really wanted to keep him out of here. Anyway it was you, him and Strauss in that room together when he got fucked up. I think you'll wanna hear him out. I know I do." He frowned slowly, realizing what he was assuming. "If you can help him, I mean."

Ken looked down at the desk, rubbing his finger against the metal. "This place sucks," he muttered. "You think Jackson actually wants it?"

"Hell, yeah. There's a lot of data in here." Lip started to smile again. "Kel already got the money."

"Oh." Ken cracked a hint of a smile, too. "Yeah. What about the other places? KGA locations?"

"Since Strauss took over, he only keeps a few Talents on staff. No leadership. And all the rest are out in the field, either waiting for news or dropping off the grid. They won't be back to fight for this place. It's not that kind of cult."

"What about the, what's it called, the Board? Did I get them all?"

"Aki and David took them out on one of the upper levels. You made things pretty easy for us."

Ken frowned thoughtfully. Lip watched him think, wondering what the wunderkind would do next. "Why do you think he wanted KGA gone?" Ken asked at last. "Do you think he wants to rule the world?"

"Maybe. Don't know him well enough to say."

Ken's frown deepened. "I don't know what do next," he said slowly.

"Well, sleep on it for another night or two, mate. I'd say you've done plenty for now."

Ken's eyes drifted over to Jin, and Lip realized the kid hadn't actually been looking at the telepath at all. "Sky was right," Ken said.

"Yeah," Lip said, "Kind of." He sighed, remembering. Jesus, it _had_ been a bad week. "I can't believe he's dead," he admitted. "Can't believe he didn't make it."

Those odd green eyes drifted down again, getting lost in the bleak gray surface of the desk.

"I thought it was gettin' better. I thought he'd figure it out, how to get along with you." Lip was quiet for a long moment, chewing his lip. "You did your best," he said at last. "You did. I saw it. And I'm sorry we lost him."

"For nothing. Maybe he was right. But I already knew as much as he did, and it all happened anyway, and I barely even got hurt."

Lip raised an eyebrow. By the time they'd reached Ken, it was clear the kid had taken his share of knocks. But he got the point.

"I didn't mean to kill him." This time Ken's voice was quieter. "Sky. I really didn't. He was just so deep in my head. Deeper than Giovanni got. Now I get how it happened, how hard I pushed, how it killed him. But I didn't mean to do it."

"Nobody thought you did."

"You could have thought it." Ken shrugged. "But I never wanted him dead. Gone, maybe, but not..." he laid his head against the back of the chair, letting out a sigh. "He wasn't a bad person. And the way my life was, all the things that happened to me, that wasn't his fault."

Lip nodded silently, giving him room to say more. Ken didn't often say so much.

"I don't know," Ken mumbled, his chin dropping as he frowned at the desk again. "I don't even know why he wanted me so bad. It's like he drove himself crazy imagining I was something, like, someone I just never was. Ever. I couldn't make him see that. But I didn't blame him for life. I didn't hate him."

"I know you didn't."

"He did care about me. More than I thought he did." Ken's frown was softer now, and harder to see. "I didn't know it until he was gone. I can still feel in my head where he used to be. I almost...I mean I do. I do wish he was back."

Finished, Ken sighed with a faint scowl, like he was really just annoyed by the whole thing. Lip knew better.

"That matters, mate. You feelin' that way."

"Doesn't change anything."

"It doesn't bring him back, but it's how you look back on it, how you remember him. That means somethin', mate." Lip ran a hand through his hair so it stood on end, then raked it loosely down again. "You know, I'll never understand Sky or why he had to see things the way he did. But I believe deep down he knew you cared about him."

"Maybe I—"

_"Don't_ say you didn't, Ken. I know you did. If you hadn't, it would've been a different story from the start. You cared about him. And he was an empath. Somewhere in that weird brain of his, he knew that was the truth."

Ken shut his mouth. His eyes met Lip's with a strange expression, and then his gaze softened. "Thanks, Lip."

It was hard to see the kid looking so weary. But it was good to see he had his senses. "You looked pretty fuckin' scary yesterday, you know."

It was subtle, but there was a hint of a smirk on Ken's lips. "Good."

#  47. Benevolent Ghosts

There was a large walled-in lot behind the eastern wing of KGA, all grass and dirt and gravel and a training course. More of a playground, Aki thought, but that did explain why none of KGA's Talents could fight.

It felt weird to be sitting on a curb outside enemy headquarters, conquered or not. But after helping ARSI clear out the bodies, he needed some air. Some three dozen agents and experts had flown in to help the Talents organize the situation. They didn't need Aki for cleanup, but he wasn't going to sit it out when he was the one who'd helped make the mess.

Lip, Mark and Kel were inside, still digging through files. It was a treasure trove of intelligence beyond anything Jackson had offered. Details on KGA operations, records of every espionage detail they'd ever taken on, and Talent research archives going back to the 1950s.

The three looked happier than Aki had ever seen them. Now that they'd gotten over the shock, they were obviously enjoying Ken's sudden act of war against Jackson. No one knew how long Ken really planned to hold down KGA, but they were happy enough to ride it out and see where it went. Why not? They got to loot, plunder, and stick it to Jackson at the same time.

Ken was inside now, with Jin. The telepath was in bad shape. Aki felt strange seeing it, knowing he'd been in his shoes not so long ago. But Ken had helped _him_ back, and Ken was stronger now.

God, Ken was strong.

The metal door to the building swung open behind him, and Aki turned to look over his shoulder as David stepped outside. He was dressed in dark blue trousers and a gray tee shirt, and with his gently curious expression, he looked like Luke again.

Aki was getting used to it, he supposed, because he felt no surprise or shock at the sight of Luke's softness taking over David's wry gaze. But without surprise and shock, there was only the ache of longing.

"Aki," David said.

"Hey," Aki said, standing up and dusting off his pants.

David closed the space between them and put a hand on his shoulder, firm and solid in a way Luke's had never been. "Is it botherin' you now?" David studied him intently. "Talkin' to me?"

"No." Aki sighed and looked away, tired of himself. "It's my fault. I keep looking at you and wondering if I'm seeing him. I need to stop."

"Look at me, lad." David turned Aki toward him and took hold of both shoulders. "Listen. You're not seein' _him_. All right? I'm me. Just like Jin said. I'm just, y'know." He paused, tilting his head from side to side vaguely. "I'm more _like_ Luke now. Think of it like that."

Aki met David's gaze and was relieved to see only David. Thank god they were so different. Thank god he could still see that particular quirk of David's elegant brows, those worried ripples in his forehead, the thoughtful set of his lips, and know exactly who he was looking at it.

"We're never gonna hear him talkin', all right?" David murmured. "We're never gonna see him walkin' around. We're never gonna get 'im back the way we had it. Whatever's left of 'im is part of me now. Part of _me_. David." He lowered his chin slightly, his eyes fixed on Aki's. "Yeah?"

It wasn't hard to understand: There was only one of them who was alive, breathing, thinking, talking, healthy, aware and whole, and that one was David.

"Yeah," Aki sighed, dropping his head. He put a hand on David's wrist where it hung on his shoulder.

"Wish you could feel it too, Aki." David's thumb rubbed a tender spot in Aki's shoulder. "I mean I wish it wasn't like this, y'know. Wish he was here in my place."

"I wouldn't wish you gone again, David," Aki said. No. And just to see David like this, solid and steady, was more than Aki had hoped for.

"No," David said quietly. "Me neither. I wouldn't wanna die now. Not when I can feel 'im with me like this. It's like he's holdin' onto me in a way he never could before. God, I know it sounds half-mad, but I don't think he'd ever let me fall like that again."

Aki pulled him close and hugged him tightly. "Neither would I," he whispered, and pressed his face into David's shoulder.

One by one, the layers of bitter fatigue began to fall away. For so long now he'd lived with visions of Luke in torment, remembering watching him descend into the toxic black depths he'd been cursed to, haunted by the reality of his slow, twisted, agonizing death.

Aki knew those thoughts had tormented David, too. But now they didn't have to see Luke there anymore. Now they could imagine him, at least part of him, safe from the horrors that had taken him down. Some trace of him lingered somewhere in David's dreams, comfortable and at peace.

Luke wasn't coming back, and that would always hurt. But enough of him had survived to save David, and that was all he ever would have wanted. Luke would have celebrated this. Aki would celebrate it, too.

"It's gonna be all right, Aki," David murmured.

It was momentous just to stand there, to be there, finally, with someone who _got it_. Nobody understood it all like David did, and nobody ever would. Maybe that was why, for the first time in a long time, that stupid, tiresome idea—that anything could ever be all right again—didn't sound so stupid anymore.

"Good," David said, either to the embrace or to the feelings he was picking up with his empathy—Luke's empathy. "Worried you were gettin' sick of me."

Aki scoffed and pulled back, shaking his head.

"It's a good day." David laid a hand on Aki's cheek and stared into his eyes. "Innit? Fuck her. Everyone's safe. These bastards are gone. And we're on Ken's good side."

Aki laughed unexpectedly, and was rewarded by the grin that lit up David's face.

"C'mon, then." The Irish boy ruffled his hair, kissed him soundly on the cheek, and turned back to the building with an arm around his shoulders. "Let's get some food."

#  48. Good Morning

Jin

Jin

Jin

The first thing Jin saw was the pale white light seeping through his eyelids. Too drowsy to form a thought, he slitted his eyes and looked up at the ceiling.

"Jin."

Jin blinked. It was painful. So was shifting his gaze. But as he did, it dawned on him where he was:

Infirmary.

KGA infirmary.

KGA.

He jerked upright, but a pair of hard, bony hands clamped around his upper arms and stopped him from lurching out of the bed. His chest tightened with familiar panic, with the instant recognition that he was in Hell, at the mercy of things he couldn't fight...

"Jin. Look at me."

The voice came as if through a rough layer of mesh. What was coming? It didn't matter. Unable to escape physically, Jin felt his mind begin to retreat, desperate to get away from whatever was coming next. Strauss had _plans_ for him.

"Jesus, it's _Ken_. Look at me!"

This time Jin recognized that deep, low voice, and his eyes flew to the raven-haired figure holding him down.

Yes, it was Ken, but that didn't stop the alarm. What was this? What trick?

Things came back in broken flashes: Ken on the floor, Strauss above, defeat, his own thoughts shattering, breaking down to sand, scattering in the wind and flying off in a million different directions...

Ken was sitting on the bed at his side, holding him down with that improbable iron grip. But Jin closed his eyes again. Nothing good happened at KGA. If Ken was in front of him now, here, he belonged to them. He'd been made a puppet and this was a twisted kind of torture the empath had devised. This was how Strauss would destroy him.

"Stop," Ken said calmly. "It's okay." He paused and let go of Jin's shoulder to touch his cheek, fingertips sneaking softly into his hair.

Suddenly Ken's hand didn't feel so hard and bony. It felt like a cool salve, like a gentle breeze. Jin shut his eyes tighter and let out a shuddering breath. Then, with his heart still pounding in his chest, he dared to look up again and meet those familiar green eyes, one frosty pale and the other as deep as the open sea.

Ken was gazing steadily at him, his brow furrowed and his mind as solid and silent as ever. His fingertips gently massaged Jin's scalp, making ripples of calm, smoothing out the edges.

"The _fuck_ ," Jin moaned.

"It's okay. They're all dead. Strauss, too."

Jin stared at him for a few more moments, stunned and forlorn. He tried to piece it together. Ken limp and defeated in his arms. Trying to Trigger him. Strauss coming in and...

"You came back," Jin said unsteadily, "from...dead."

Ken nodded. He looked older now, wearier. The scars seemed clearer on his face, the frown on his lips heavier with meaning. But he was him, wasn't he? He was Ken. _Wasn't_ he?

Jin's telepathy swept over him desperately, even though it hurt; he found nothing but the same placid strength he'd always found, the same stubborn calm. Except, no. The shields _were_ different. They were scuffed, dented, welded in places where they'd been smooth before. Signs of an epic battle.

Jin heaved forward and threw his arms around Ken, overwhelmed. "Fuckin' hell," he blurted. He didn't cry, but he might as well have. He could feel it all flooding his face, his forehead trying to twist itself in knots.

Ken was stiff at first, then softened, then slowly drew back. He held Jin firmly, scrutinizing his face. His eerie eyes were guarded.

Jin looked around the room again, down at his own body. He was naked under the sheets, which was better than waking up in one of those fucking gowns. "How did you..."

"I got up and killed him," Ken said quietly. "And then I killed the rest. Only twenty-seven of them. The ones Aki and the others missed."

"Aki," Jin remembered. "And David? Mark, Lip, did anyone make it?"

"They all _made it_." He sounded faintly annoyed that Jin would suggest otherwise.

"How the..." That wasn't possible. "That's not possible."

Ken shrugged, and his eyes became distracted for a moment. He brushed a strand of hair from Jin's brow, like an artist studying his own handiwork.

Of course. The kid had fixed his head. After he'd taken down KGA. _Taken down KGA._ Ken had taken down KGA, and he was alive, and sane. And so was everyone else. So was _Jin._

Jin shook his head, dumbstruck. An overwhelming mass of feelings was ballooning in his chest. But Ken was still watching him with that guarded look, like he was circling Jin in his head, not yet convinced it was safe to approach.

Fuck. Right. His fists tightened in Ken's dark shirt _._

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his throat suddenly dry. How was he supposed to explain it? "I'm _sorry_. I didn't know. Not when I was with you."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not. I never could. That's the point." And he sure as hell wouldn't do it now. Jesus. "I knew before, but they had me forget. I never would've let you come here. _Never._ "

Ken studied him, his expression unreadable. "But Jackson knew?"

"Yes." Jin's frown deepened, and he looked around. "Where is he? Why are we here?"

"Because it's not his. It's mine."

"You..." Jin stopped and shut his mouth, staring wide-eyed at Ken. He tried to let those words soak in, but they weren't exactly easy to absorb. None of it was easy to absorb. "What in the _fuck_."

Ken's mismatched eyes stayed on him for a long moment, and then they shifted away. "You should rest."

"No." Jin said, and shook his head. " _No_ ," he said, even more fiercely, staring up at Ken. "Just...hang on."

Hang on. Because the longer Jin stared at him, the clearer things got.

Beautiful, demonic little beast.

Knocked out a hundred Talents.

Killed Wilhelm Strauss. Finished off KGA.

Stuck a flag in it just to piss Jackson off.

King of the fucking Mountain.

"Jesus," Jin said under his breath.

Ken was still staring at him with that flat, guarded look. "Did Jackson tell you to come for me?"

"Fuck, no. He told me not to. Said it was pointless."

More memories were trickling in. Had Jackson known, actually, what would happen if Jin got between Strauss and Ken? Was this the _real_ plan? Or had he really wanted Jin to stay out of it, to accept Ken's destruction as collateral damage?

Never mind. It didn't matter. What mattered now was Ken not leaving this room until he understood. But where to even start?

"I'm sorry I had to hurt you," Jin said. "Uh, kill you. Sorry I...killed you."

Ken's face smoothed out, the suspicion replaced by surprise.

"You don't remember," Jin realized. _He_ remembered. He remembered when all was lost, the defeat in Ken's eyes and the way he'd shook when Jin invaded the core of him. "Do you know I Triggered you?"

Ken's lips parted suddenly as understanding dawned in his eyes. " _You_ did that."

"I didn't know what I was doing. But at least I knew you wouldn't stay dead, and there wasn't time to figure out..."

He trailed off, because Ken was shaking his head impatiently, like he wanted a turn to speak.

But instead of speaking, he seized Jin's lips in a sudden kiss.

Fuck, Jesus, _finally_. Jin grabbed the back of Ken's head as his heart went off like fireworks, as all his lingering fears untangled and fucked the hell off.

_Now_ it was okay. Ken's hands were grabbing at him, his lips urgent and full of things Jin knew he wouldn't say. That was okay. Jin heard them anyway. He folded Ken up in his arms and pulled him down until his own back hit the mattress, letting Ken's kiss pull him back to earth. Because fuck, yes, Ken was alive—fuck, _yes_ , they were _both_ alive!

"I don't get why you came," Ken whispered breathlessly when they finally broke, holding Jin's face in his hands and running a thumb over his lips. There was dismay in his voice, like he needed to finish the puzzle and still couldn't fit the pieces together. "If he told you not to. If you didn't know you could do that..."

Jin raked Ken's hair back from his face, incredulous. That cool skin. Those intricate scars. Those scary green eyes all raw with feeling. Why had he come? Was this kid fucking _kidding_? Jin shook his head, searching for the right words for such an obvious answer.

"Just couldn't take it," he said at last. "I couldn't just stand there and wait for them to fuckin' wreck you. Shit, Damien, nobody wants to see you go down. Who could live with that?"

Ken hovered over him, his coal-black hair falling loosely around his forehead, his sharp features taut. There was something else in his eyes Jin had never seen before, something indefinable. It kept moving around, like it couldn't settle on a shape.

"Did you think I wouldn't come?" Jin asked him, brushing back another glossy strand. "If you were in trouble?"

"I didn't have time to think." Whatever emotional showdown was happening behind Ken's eyes grew more intense. "But I would've thought...Sky was right. And you put me here."

So much for fireworks. Jin swallowed, trying to come up with anything to say to that, any fucking thing at all.

"But I never," Ken continued softly, " _ever_ would have thought you'd come for me."

"Well," Jin whispered, reaching up to brush his knuckles along Ken's cheek. His throat was dry. "Now we both know."

The look in those mismatched green eyes was soft and anguished. Jin recognized it. Ken was trying, desperately, to understand.

"Listen to me," Jin said, framing Ken's face in both of his hands. "I love you. I fucking love you."

Ken's eyes glistened for a split second before he closed them. When Jin rose up to kiss him, he found Ken's lips on his before he could even get there.

God, dammit, he'd almost lost this.

_I'm sorry_ , he thought to Ken, kissing the tearstain on his cheek before Ken captured his mouth again. Jin held him tightly, just like he'd wanted to do the minute he'd heard Ken was bound for KGA. He knew, despite the avalanche of shame and horror still echoing in his chest, that nothing had ever felt as good as having Ken safe in his arms now.

Right then Jin decided he was going to be like Aki. He was going to be the one Ken expected to be there. But he couldn't tell Ken that. Ken never cared what people said, only what they did. So Jin would just have to do right, and never let him down again.

_I've been in love with you since the night I saw you in that alleyway,_ he thought so that Ken could hear. _Sucking on that milkshake in the front seat of the cab. I've been in love with you this whole fucking time._ He felt Ken's fingers digging into his shoulders, his kiss deepening, and Jin clutched him even tighter, practically appalled that he got to have this—KGA finished and Ken still with him at the end in spite of it all.

_I do_ , he thought as Ken's lips left his to move down his throat. "I love you," he moaned. "Fuckin' worship you."

Ken laughed quietly against his skin.

Jin let his head fall back on the pillow for a moment, focusing on Ken's lips working their way up the other side of his neck. He dragged Ken's tee shirt up his back, fingertips skimming smooth muscle.

Ken let the shirt come off, but then paused to look down at Jin. "Are you okay?" he asked soberly. "Your head?"

"Yeah." Jin ran his hands down the length of Ken's firm, narrow body, his thumbs traveling gently over the lines of his abs. "You did good."

With that, it seemed like the last shred of tension melted away from Ken. He slowly buried his face in Jin's throat, cradling his shoulders and head in his arms. "Good," he whispered. He shifted around to help get rid of the rest of his clothes and to get the bedding out of the way. And when Jin maneuvered his thighs around his hips, Ken kissed him again and settled his weight between them.

The sheets were coarse against Jin's back, another reminder of where they were, but it wasn't KGA anymore. There was no more KGA. Ken had taken them down with all his glorious rage and power and probably a lot of his scary-ass glares.

Jesus, Jin _was_ worshipping him. What else was he supposed to do? The kid had torn down an empire with a few hard flexes of his mind. He was a divine force. He was the goddamn rapture.

"I love you," he breathed between sucking kisses to Ken's bottom lip. "I'm gonna pray to you like a fuckin' god."

"Idiot." A smile broke across Ken's face at last. Jin devoured it.

#  49. Ken Figures It Out

Ken moved his hands up and down Jin's body, checking to make sure everything was exactly as it was supposed to be. The telepath was saying dumb things to him that made him feel like the worst was over. Was the worst over? Shit, he hoped so.

There were still memories missing. The last thing he recalled clearly was sliding out of those restraints and crumpling at Strauss's feet. He knew what the empath had done to him, but that hour on the floor was a blur. Good. He didn't want to remember it, the weakness and despair, what it had felt like to surrender. It hadn't been real. It didn't count.

He did remember the faraway sound of Jin's voice, a sprinkle of words, an explosion in his head, and then dying. He remembered the room coming into focus again, drawing his first shallow breath.

After that it was all clear. Staggering to his feet. An unbearable, almost uncontrollable hunger for Strauss's destruction. An inferno of power blossoming inside him, erupting and churning around him, a tornado of fire.

Jin had done it. Now he knew. Jin had brought it out. Jin had done this for him.

He kept remembering when he'd leaned over Jin's wasting body and held his shrieking head between his hands, when for several dark, increasingly agonizing minutes he felt the tingling of his own Talent but no perceptible change in Jin's condition.

And then the moment when it started to happen, when all the scattered grains of Jin started collecting between his hands and finding themselves in all the right ways and he'd almost cried.

Because if he hadn't been able to bring Jin back, then he wouldn't have won this at all. During those horrible, uncertain minutes, he'd tasted what it would be like to know that the telepath was gone forever. It was just long enough to understand how much darker everything would be, how cold he'd feel inside. Losing Jin like that would have turned Ken into something else. Someone he wouldn't want to be.

Ken couldn't stop himself anymore. He kissed the telepath like it was all he'd ever wanted to do. He felt hot and urgent in some deep and hidden place inside, the same place that had clenched into a knot when he found Jin shivering on the floor. It felt right to have Jin beneath him now, solid and safe, and this time he wasn't going to resist it. Ken pushed his hips along with Jin's slow, rocking movements, savoring the slide of his tongue between the telepath's lips, the way the long muscles of Jin's inner thighs pressed against his waist. Ken had never felt them there. He liked it.

He ran his palms up Jin's sides, kissed the firm, rounded muscle of his shoulder, his collarbone and his neck. His skin was so much warmer then Ken's, his edges so much smoother. Ken arched his back to squeeze the stiff lengths of their cocks where they were pinned between their stomachs, swallowing the sound Jin made.

It was hard to pull away, but Jin was trying to be an idiot about it and there was a bottle of lubricant clearly visible on the supply shelf five feet across the room. Jin sat up as Ken stood to get it, lips moist and blue eyes impatient. As soon as Ken returned he was pulled back into that lanky embrace.

Ken caught his weight with one elbow on the pillow, trying to keep up with Jin's tongue while he got things slick where they needed it. "Don't let me hurt you," he whispered. He hoped knowing what it felt like was enough to make it good.

_"Fuck,_ " Jin groaned, a slow writhe working its way down his body when Ken's fingertips slipped over his hole. " _Ken._ "

He'd never fucked Jin before, but he'd thought about it. _Obviously_ he'd thought about it. Not that he'd admit it. Well, maybe he'd admit it—just to see the look on Jin's face. Ken almost smiled thinking about it. The telepath was always surprised whenever Ken said what he wanted—always that note of shock in his bright blue eyes, like he'd just seen a statue come to life.

It seemed right to do it now, to have a first time now. And there was an urgent feeling, like— _Jesus_ , that was tight around his fingers. He planted a distracted kiss in the curve between Jin's neck and shoulder, wishing he had more hands to hold him and touch him everywhere he wanted, and wondering why he wanted that so _bad,_ suddenly, why he couldn't think past getting inside of Jin, pressing him down, covering him, taking over his senses so the telepath could only think of him.

"Come on," Jin moaned, and threw his leg around Ken's hip, digging his fingers into his back and bucking up beneath him, trying to push his thick, gleaming dick against Ken's.

It used to annoy him that Jin was so good at this—and he was, they both knew it, as did approximately half the fucking world as far as Ken could tell—but he didn't care about competing now. He knew he could do it. And he wanted to do it. Needed it. Ken kissed him steadily as he worked him open, until the telepath's grip in his hair got hard and impatient and he couldn't resist any more.

"Yeah, Ken." Jin's head fell back when the tip of Ken's dick began to stretch him open. "Yes, fuck, _yes_."

"God, you..." Ken choked on his sentence, his body quaking as the head of his cock pushed into Jin's tight hole, as the rest sank deeper, inch by inch. He hadn't expected it to feel like this. "God," he gasped again, shocked. " _Jin_!"

Jin yanked his hair to bring their mouths back together, though he broke the kiss with a wrecked moan as soon as Ken was fully seated inside him. Ken paused above him, shoulders trembling, breathing hard. It was so much better than he'd thought. He already wanted it to go on forever, clutched in Jin's body, hips molded tight. He kissed Jin's bottom lip, the corners of his mouth, his jawline, his throat. "Okay?"

"Yeah," Jin breathed, and rocked his hips in a way that sent bolts of lightning through Ken's body, down his limbs. "God, yeah, _fuck_ me."

Ken exhaled roughly, finding Jin's hands and lacing their fingers together, pressing them down on either side of his head. Jin wrapped his legs high around his waist as he pulled his hips back, and the friction made his vision swim. He closed his eyes and pushed forward again, savoring the slick drag of skin and muscle and the shudder that raked its way down Jin's body.

"Ken," Jin groaned. " _Yes_."

Ken moved his hand into Jin's rough, wavy hair and looked down into his eyes, found them raw with pleasure. He rubbed his thumb down the side of his face, tracing his temple and the hard edge of his cheekbone, the dip of his cheek and the fine line of his jaw.

_I can do this to you_ , he thought, but not so Jin could hear.

Jin's fingertips dug into his spine, his hips moving in indecipherable ways that made Ken's thoughts blur. He pressed his lips to Jin's open mouth, sliding his tongue inside the way he knew would make him writhe.

Did Jin realize it? Had he thought about it? Was it clear enough that Ken could give him what he needed? God, why was he fucking _thinking_ this shit? He growled softly and drove in even deeper, stroking long and firm until Jin was moaning like he'd never felt anything like this before. _Good_.

"Fuck!" Jin cried roughly. Those long muscles in his thighs were shaking; his cheeks were flushed, his expression desperate.

Ken nipped his jaw, tasted his smooth skin. "More?" he whispered. He shifted his knees and reached down to take Jin's hot, rigid cock in his hand.

"Fuck," Jin choked out, quaking like he was already about to come. " _Yes_. More. _More_..."

For once Ken did as he was asked. He fell into a hard, steady rhythm, groaning at the way Jin's body tightened and trembled, promising to come undone at any minute. He heard his own name spilling out of Jin's lips in a voice so urgent it sounded like a plea for help. It sounded like he was going to break.

And then he did. Jin's shoulders jerked off the bed as he shoved his face into Ken's neck. Huge, furious spasms wracked him, his come streaking Ken's chest, his body clenching hard and fast.

"Jin," Ken gasped, his hand tightening in Jin's hair. His body pulled taut as he fell into a final bout of deep, demanding thrusts, and then he was sliding over the edge, too.

It blew him apart from the inside, white-hot shocks of pleasure blazing through his core as he emptied himself in Jin's body. Ken clutched him tight, riding out wave after wave of pleasure.

When at last it all slowed down and his body went loose and liquid, all he wanted was to melt into Jin. All his thoughts and senses were washed away by the feeling of Jin in his arms, the sound of Jin breathing his name.

#  50. Life After Fate

When Jin had finally spiraled back down from outer space, Ken was holding him so tightly he could barely breathe. That was fine. He didn't need to breathe for awhile. He made a contented sound against Ken's temple and followed with a soft kiss.

Ken shifted slowly, resting his cheek against Jin's for a moment before he carefully disengaged himself and slid down to the mattress. He laid his head on Jin's shoulder, letting out a long sigh.

Maybe they'd crossed into an alternate dimension, Jin mused. Maybe Ken's epic awakening of power had carried them to a warp zone where it was all relaxed and warm and tender, and where Jin happily got his brains fucked out in the KGA infirmary. A little weird, but not bad. Not bad at all.

"Explain it all," Ken mumbled.

A shadow passed over his haze of euphoria. That was more like it. Reality. But Ken's head was on his shoulder; Ken's arm was around his waist. So Jin slipped his fingers into that silky black hair, took a deep breath and told him everything.

Ken listened silently as Jin recounted the first time he'd heard of Jackson's Key prophecy, how Jackson had predicted Jin's feelings of attachment, how Jin had agreed to let Giovanni smother anything inside him that would prevent him from carrying out the plan. And he described how Jackson had pulled him out the night after Sky died, and how he'd sat him down in Vermont and broken the news that KGA was picking up Ken.

"I remembered, as soon as he said it," Jin said quietly. His throat was tight the whole time he spoke. "I remembered the whole thing. And I can't even say I never knew it. But I remember when I told him not to fuck around with you. I really didn't wanna fuck with you. I thought he was an idiot for even thinking I could get close to you, like you wouldn't see through whatever shit he had planned. And then he told me just not to lie to you. So I _didn't_ , but...that was the whole _plan_. That was it."

"I get it."

Jin closed his eyes at the flat tone of Ken's voice. There was a lot more he could talk about, like about all the times when Ken's name on Jackson's lips had made him sick to his stomach, and all the times he'd thought about KGA picking Ken up and wanted to murder the world. But what did it matter? Jin reached up and rubbed his eyes.

"What about now?" Ken asked.

_What about now_? Christ, what _about_ now? KGA was gone and Ken was...forgiving him? Maybe? Or were they just back to the way they were before? But how could anything be? What about now? Shit. Jin couldn't even wrap his head around half of it yet. "You tell me."

"No," Ken said, a familiar, irritable edge entering his voice. "You tell _me._ "

"I have no idea."

"Are you going back to him?"

"No," Jin answered immediately. Fuck, no. Jin might have been able to come to terms with what Jackson had done to take down KGA. But something had snapped when he heard the precognitive trying to turn Aki and the other ARSI Talents against him—when Jackson had tried to keep him from helping Ken.

For years, Jin had trusted Jackson with his life. But the man had pushed him too far.

Still, as the decision settled in, Jin felt a huge, awful weariness come over him.

What the fuck was he going to do now?

How long would he last without Jackson there, on call, to guide him through the inevitable crises of sanity every telepath cycled through?

Ken pulled away and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and walking past the supply shelves to the sink.

As the water ran, Jin crossed his arms over his forehead and let out a long, tired breath. Ken wouldn't understand. There wasn't a chance in hell he would understand. And it wasn't like Jin would ever ask him to.

Jackson. _Dammit._ Why did it have to go down this way? Making an enemy of Ken—did he really think that was going to work out? KGA was gone. Good. Great. Better than great. Jin hadn't even _started_ to process the fact that KGA was gone. But that didn't make it easier to stomach the thought of Ken declaring war on Jackson. Or that Jin didn't have Jackson to lean on anymore.

Fuck, how was he supposed to stay sane now?

"Go back to him if you wanna go back," Ken muttered.

A washcloth landed on Jin's chest with a wet slap, and he unfolded his arms to peer at Ken. The kid had already pulled on his shorts, and his face was as hard as stone. No doubt he'd misread something in Jin's expression or his silence.

"I don't," Jin replied. "I'm not."

"It's not like before," Ken said icily, pulling his pants up over his hips. "You can't just go back and forth. I get what happened. Maybe he did what he had to do. Fine. But that's the last time I do his work for him. And if you're gonna keep taking orders from him, you can just leave."

"I'm _not_. I'm not going anywhere." No, he wasn't taking orders from Jackson. No. But it wasn't that simple, was what Ken wouldn't understand. No, fuck that: It was what Jin didn't want to say. "Look," he ventured reluctantly. "I didn't live this long 'cause I'm such a badass. He does things for me. He keeps me..." Jin trailed off when Ken turned back to him with a glare he felt in his bones.

"He _does_ things for you?" Ken repeated coolly.

"I'm a telepath. I can only go so long on my own. I lose my head sometimes. And he fixes it. I'd be gone by now if it wasn't for him. That's the whole..." He trailed off again warily, seeing the approaching thunderstorm in Ken's eyes. "What?"

"You'd be gone if it wasn't for _me,_ " Ken said. "Your head was _dust._ And _I_ fixed it."

Fuck, that went down bittersweet. Jin wanted to wrap Ken up in his arms again. He also wanted to crawl into a hole and fucking die. Yeah, he knew Ken could do things. "But—"

"What? Tell me what he does that I can't do for you."

Jin stared at Ken, confounded. It was true, wasn't it? Ken was stronger than Jackson. Ken could do more than Jackson. Ken had brought him back from a state of total destruction. Ken had also just fucked him until his brains flew out of his head, around the world, and back again. No, it didn't seem like there was a single thing Jackson could do that Ken couldn't do.

Except that Jackson was always _there_. Jackson never hid from him, or got so tired of him he avoided him. He would never deny Jin help, or disappear when he needed it. Jackson took care of him, even when Jin couldn't ask for it.

Did Ken want to do that? The kid wasn't thinking about it that way, about the steadiness, the trust. And he wouldn't understand why that mattered, how terrifying it was to lose it. Would he?

Jin looked down, trying to tame the things churning in his chest and figure out how to handle this.

"Just go, then."

"You say that like you wouldn't care if I did."

Ken looked startled, his scowl struck down.

"I know what you can do for me. I just don't know if you want to." Jin paused awkwardly. It wasn't like he was great at talking about fucking feelings, either. "All this and I still can't tell. You could fuck off to Japan with Aki or some shit and you wouldn't even tell me. You could take off today and be gone forever, for all I know."

Ken's expression had turned woeful. He looked down, jaw clenched.

Jin watched him turn to the desk in the corner of the room, where there was a stack of clothes he hadn't noticed before. The kid silently retrieved them and set them on the mattress beside Jin. He paused there for a moment, like he didn't know what to do, and then he stiffly sat down on the other side of the folded clothing with his head bowed.

There was a long silence.

"So I won't do that," Ken said at last, so low and quiet Jin could barely hear him. "I know you needed his help before. But I..." A scowl flickered on his face for a moment, but his cheeks were slightly flushed. "Whatever you need, I know I can do it. I always figure it out, when you teach me. And if you think I'd just leave you in trouble, I wouldn't do that. Never. Even if I was mad, or...or no matter what."

The air was slowly leaving Jin's chest.

Ken took another breath and went on. "When I thought maybe you were gone, for good, it felt like..." He trailed off, chewed his lower lip for a second, and tried again. "Even when I didn't know what you had to do with this. When I thought I might never see you again, or talk to you, it felt like...the worst thing. Ever. Like I lost. Like I lost everything _._ "

Motherfucker.

"So if you want me to say I love you..." Ken still wasn't looking at him. His hand made a loose fist in the sheets beside his thigh. "I can say that. To you. Because I do."

If this was a hallucination, Jin didn't even give a shit.

"And I don't want you to go." Ken's voice dropped almost to a whisper. "I would care, if you left. I'd care a lot. So just...stay with me. If you want to."

Jin couldn't resist for another second. He grabbed Ken by the arm and hauled him close, crushing him.

"I'm with you," he whispered roughly. "I'm with you, all right? I told you, I fucking love you. That okay with you, you scary brat? I love you."

"Okay." Ken's hands crept up his back and closed, slowly, on his shoulders. He sighed, silent for a moment, and then spoke in a soft grumble. "Then I love you, too."

Jin buried his face in Ken's neck with a groan, wondering how he was ever supposed to let go. "Good," he whispered. "Good."

#  51. You Say Goodbye

Mark could claim he didn't know how he ended up back down on U4, wandering through the stark white halls, cells and laboratories where KGA had terrorized so many Talents. But it was getting disingenuous to wonder why he always ended up in the darkest places. It was because he went to them. There was nothing else to it.

There were a few ARSI agents taking inventory on this level, moving methodically from room to room. He wandered into one of the untouched labs, taking it in. Cameras fixed in every corner, a tall, clear box in the center. He could imagine.

"I knew you'd be down here."

Mark turned at Jen's voice and saw her stepping into the room, dressed in her usual dark clothing. They'd cut her hair just to her chin, and Mark absently recalled how she hated that length—long enough to get in the way, too short to pull back. Now that he was moving on, it was strange to think of how many memories of her he'd always have with him, fifteen years' worth of those little details.

"How are you?" he asked, watching her look over the room as he'd just done.

She raised her eyebrows, studying the glass box with a wry look. "Ready for some different scenery." She sighed and ran a rough hand through her hair. "Hate this haircut," she muttered.

Mark smiled slightly and looked away. "You going back to Jackson?"

"Yeah. When you guys are ready." She sighed crossing her arms. "Should probably leave now. The less I know, the better."

"Is that how he wants it?"

"He knows where my loyalty lies, for what it's worth. So far I haven't had to sell my soul completely."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I know. I'm just telling you." Her gaze was even. "I'll never sell you out."

"I remember more than the bad times, Jen."

"Well." She gave a wan smile. "Best not to dwell on any of it for long."

Mark agreed. Who knew? With the wrong moves they might fall for each other all over again. But he doubted it. He still _did_ remember the bad times. "You gonna be okay?"

"I trust Jackson. I understood this. I know it doesn't sit well with everyone, but I got it."

"You think you can work like that?" Mark asked, genuinely curious. "Following his orders when you know he's keeping things from you, lying to you?"

"We'll see. But his track record does speak well for him."

Mark conceded that much with a dip of his chin. Didn't mean he liked it.

"I came to talk to you about Ken." Seeing him wince, she shook her head. "We all saw it. We all felt it. He's gotta be ten times stronger than I am. And it might sound shitty for me to keep blaming my Talent for the things I did. But I'm telling you, Mark, that kind of power is a lot to bear. It's hard to be stronger than everyone you care about. And it's really fucking hard to be a psychic."

There was no denying any of that. Mark nodded slightly. "So?"

"So warn Aki," she said quietly. "I can't talk to him. But you know better than anybody how it went with me. How the problems started, and the fear, and the secrets."

"You really think..."

"It'll drive him crazy?" Jen nodded firmly. "Yeah, I really do."

Mark grimaced and ran a hand over his hair, not liking this idea at all.

"He trusts Aki. Aki can stay close. I don't know how the rest of you get on with him. I'm sure Jin will be a great help, if he sticks around. But Aki needs to watch him, and he needs to be ready to get him help if he needs it."

"What help?" Mark raised his eyebrows. "Jackson?"

She lifted her shoulders. "Or me."

Mark sighed. "Thin ice, Jen."

She doubled down on the shrug, looking at him as if to say, _What can you do?_

"Aki will _never_ ," Mark said, "in a million fucking years, let you near Ken's head. Just so you know."

"Then I hope if Jackson isn't available, there'll be someone else to help."

"It's not a sure thing." Seeing her skepticism, Mark shook his head. "I have more faith in the kid than you do."

"Fine. But you had faith in me, too."

Goddammit. "All right. I get it. I'll talk to Aki."

"Thank you." She turned as if to leave.

"Jen."

She paused in the doorway, looking at him.

"Thanks for being on our side for this," he said. "Really."

"I'll try and stay there." Jen's smile, though guarded, was sincere. "It was fun, really. Fighting without my Talent. You should ask him to knock yours out sometime. You'd love it."

Mark smiled back at her. "Maybe I will."

"Bye, Mark." She turned away and disappeared.

For a few quiet minutes, he stood there gazing at the clear box in the middle of the room and thinking about all that she'd said. And then, shaking his head, he turned and left the room.

Enough of the dark shit. Dylan would have arrived by now, and Mark couldn't wait to see him.

#  52. O'Reilly Peace Treaty

When Dylan finally arrived at KGA headquarters with three ARSI agents, he did not expect to see David sitting casually on the curb outside the entrance. He also didn't expect David to stay there as he approached. And he definitely didn't expect David to look him in the eye and greet him with a casual nod.

"Hey," Dylan greeted, coming to a stop several feet in front of him. He nodded at the agents to go on ahead.

"Hey," David replied, looking up at him. It was a cloudy day, and his green eyes were opalescent in the overcast light. Dylan's own eyes would be, too. They all had the same eyes, David and Luke and him. "Sit?" David asked.

To hell with expectations, then. Dylan sat down on the curb beside his younger brother, taken aback by the difference in his demeanor. Ken's blast on the day of Sky's death had affected them all, he knew, but this was still quite a leap. "Whatchya doin' out here?"

"Waitin' for pizzas."

Dylan raised his eyebrows. "Y'ordered pizzas?"

"ARSI food was shit."

"Fair enough." Dylan looked over his shoulder at the building behind them, then sneaked another look at David, eyebrow raised. He was profoundly different. And there was something about it he couldn't put his finger on.

"I'll just say it," David said in his matter-of-fact way. "There's a bit of Luke in my head. Since Sky died I found myself with his empathy. Luke's, I mean. Jin says he musta left a piece of himself in me when I died, and Ken brought it out. So that's how that is."

"Yeah," Dylan said slowly, because he did not want to say nothing when David had spoken to him. But beyond that syllable, he was at a loss. He blinked at the tree-speckled terrain before them. "All right," he said at last. "How does that sit with you?"

"Better than nothin'."

"Yeah," Dylan said again, and let out a breath. Right. That was new. But all right. Somehow it didn't seem all that strange, he supposed. Time would tell.

"Dyl," David said, as if he was about to say something difficult. No doubt he was. Nothing easy had been said between them for a long time, unless they counted the talk about pizza.

"Yeah?" Dylan didn't know what to say anymore. Expressing his grief only made things worse, but it was still there, like thorns under his skin. Losing David, losing Luke. What could be worse? What could be worse in the world? He laced his fingers together and stretched his arms between his knees, hiding a quiet sigh.

Then, unexpectedly, David reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. "I owe you an apology."

Dylan looked at him, disarmed.

"I'm sorry I killed myself. You were right to be mad. I shouldn'tve done that. It came from an old, sick place, and I'm sorry I went through with it."

Dylan studied David's calm, earnest eyes, vaguely noting that he _did_ look more like Luke than ever before. "S'it true you...used to talk about it with 'im?"

"Yeah. Look..." A sigh. "I know you're tough. I wasn't as tough as you." He shook his head when Dylan opened his mouth to protest. "No, I broke. I broke a long time ago. You remember when you got there and found us?"

"'Course I fuckin' remember." Dylan's insides went weak and rotten when he looked back on it. The squalor. The smell of mold and filth and decay. Luke locked up in the cellar and David hanging in the shed. He closed his eyes and rubbed his mouth and nose, like he could smell it even now. Fuck, he wasn't half as tough as David thought. He still couldn't stand to look back on it.

"And how Luke made you get me down."

"Yeah." He'd wanted to leave the boy in the shed for a body bag. But Luke had clawed and thrashed until Dylan had cut his brother down. Fuck, it made him sick, the memory of the malnourished, babbling boy hugging that corpse.

And then that corpse had thrown back his head and opened his mottled green eyes...

Dylan pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry to make you think about it," David said. "But I feel I need to explain. That wasn't the first time Luke brought me back. Far from it. The bastard—" Their father. "—he lost his head long before you showed up and blew it off. After she had us, she said we were hell spawn. And he went off. They both did. Y'know, you remember how they'd feed into each other..."

"Like they shared the same fucked up brain." Dylan muttered in disgust. He remembered. He'd been eight when he ran, but he remembered.

"Right." David snorted softly, a glimmer of their old camaraderie. "Anyway. I told you how they saw things, heard things, thought they had to get the devil out of me. And he was strong, Dad was. He could beat a kid to death in no time at all. And that's what we didn't tell you, Dyl."

Dylan stared at him grimly. There was something in the tone of David's voice that chilled Dylan. "What?"

"I remember you said once how when you saw me hangin' there you wanted to scream 'cause you'd come just a little too late to stop it from happenin'. But the thing is, you could've come any day of the week and found a different version of the same thing."

"What are you sayin', lad?"

"I'm sayin' I lost count of how many times they beat me to death. I just couldn't heal like Luke could. I dunno why. Maybe I didn't want to. I never wanted to be there, Dylan. It got to where all I wanted was to stay dead. And we never told 'cause it...sounds...insane." David laughed suddenly, a perfectly sane laugh. His dark sense of humor was back in full, at least. "It really does. Just the idea of me dyin' and poppin' back up, over and over."

Dylan wasn't seeing the comedy in this.

"But really. As often as they had the energy. It had to be a hundred times at least." David's humor had faded again, and he looked at concrete between his feet.

Dylan exhaled, shaking his head in horror. "It always seemed like you were holdin' 'im up. You always seemed so much happier. Stronger."

"'Cause I knew he was safe and I knew I'd get to rest soon."

"But wasn't it ever _good_ when you were alive?" As soon as he asked the question, he realized it felt out of date. The meaning of David's explanation was sinking in.

"Yeah, Dylan, it was good from the day you got us out. But it..." David's brow furrowed, and his eyes took on a resigned air. "I'm tryin' to tell you I was mad. I dunno if it's possible to die so many times and not break, 'specially as young as I was. And no matter how much I grew up around it, that madness was still there, and it wanted to die. It drove me crazy whenever I was alone. Luke knew that, and he knew he couldn't fight it. But I'm tryin' to tell you now, Dylan, you weren't wrong to be angry. You're not wrong to hate it. It was sick. I was sick." He squeezed Dylan's shoulder. "You were right."

"No." Dylan groaned softly, shaking his head. "Maybe. Fuckin' hell, lad, I..." He'd underestimated David's suffering, and the weight of his particular past. He'd underestimated it. It was that simple. The whole thing was fucked up far beyond David ever being right or wrong in the way he dealt with that kind of pain. "I wish I'd known you were goin' through that."

"But you couldn'tve stopped it," David murmured. "Luke couldn't. Aki couldn't. I was on my own course, and...I wish I could've seen what I'd be doin' to them. And to you. I am sorry for the grief I caused you. I just can't explain what it was like to be where I was."

"And what about now? Is that still in you?"

"No." David looked contemplative. "No, Luke's with me now. I really do feel 'im. Ever so faintly, but it steadies me. I wish to god he was sittin' beside me now. But, y'know, crazy as it sounds, it almost feels like he is."

Dylan reached up and took David's hand from his shoulder, taking it in both of his and holding it tightly for a moment. Then he opened his grasp and looked down. They had the same hands, almost, smooth and white and slim. Dylan folded it up in both of his again and sighed. "I didn't mean to blame Luke." No words would ever express how sorry he was for that, and nothing would ever fix it. "For 'im to die thinkin' I wasn't on his side. I loved 'im, David. I just lost my head when you..."

"I know," David said gently.

"I couldn't take it, losin' you. I can't take losin' him. I've missed you both...like it's eatin' me alive." Dylan's voice went ragged and he stopped, biting his lips as a tear slid down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly.

David reached up and wrapped an arm tightly around Dylan's shoulders. "I know," David whispered. "S'not fair. I know it."

"I fuckin' missed you."

"I'm sorry," David said quietly. "I won't ever do it again."

"Jesus Christ please don't."

A car was approaching. David glanced at it, then looked Dylan straight in the eye. "Can we go ahead, now, you think?"

"Yeah." Dylan pressed his forehead to David's for a moment, breathing a heavy sigh. At last he looked over at the deliveryman stepping out of the car. The entire backseat was piled high with flat white boxes. He cracked a small smile. "You think you ordered enough pizza?"

David smiled back. "No. More comin'." He stood up, clapping Dylan on the shoulder one last time, and went to get the food.

#  53. Jackson Feels the Burn

Even with Rinzen's deft maneuvering of ARSI's channels, information about the outcome at KGA was scarce. A precognitive's skill was as great as his ability to work with the knowledge he had, and Jackson was skilled, indeed. But this time, the anomalies at play had turned his calculations into guesswork.

Jin had shattered his expectations. And that wasn't Jin's fault. Jin was not the one who had allowed emotions to cloud his judgment. No, it was Jackson who had fallen prey to that trap.

It was Jackson who had let his own biases, his own desires, interfere with his ability to predict what Jin would do when backed into a corner. It was Jackson's own stubbornness, his own resistance to the idea that the telepath would ever risk so much for Ken. That he'd throw away the future Jackson had built for him, for Ken. That he'd face hell for Ken.

By now, all of the Talents associated with Ken had entered KGA, along with a number of ARSI agents. So KGA had fallen. But Jackson had no way of knowing Ken's condition. He had no way of knowing Jin's. The fact that he'd been unable to make contact with Jen, Lip, or Jin could be read in any number of ways. All he could do was wait for a breakthrough.

The call came a full twenty-four hours after Jin had left him.

"Yes," Jackson answered, sitting down in his desk chair.

"I meant what I said."

"Jin." Jackson's eyes closed and he laid his head against the back of the chair, his muscles going slack. They'd been tense since Jin rode off into the night. "What's your condition?"

Silence on the line.

"I can't imagine what must have—"

"I said you're dead to me." Jin interrupted him, quiet and seething. "I'm not coming back."

"I understand."

"You _understand_?"

There was venom in Jin's voice, and it stung. Jackson closed his hand on the armrest. He'd hurt the telepath. He would not be soon forgiven.

It was much more difficult to bear than he'd anticipated.

Jackson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Jin, I knew that you'd love him. And I realize I pushed you too far." He paused. "How is he?"

The telepath's breath puffed against the phone slightly. "I'm not your fucking informer any more."

A dark cloud passed over his mood, but he willed it away. This could be the last time he spoke to Jin for quite some time. He could not let emotions interfere with priorities. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"What did I just say?"

"You Triggered him, didn't you, Jin?" At Jin's silence, he continued. "That's how he survived with his sanity. You went into KGA for him. That was an incredibly courageous thing to do."

"Whatever," Jin muttered. "Look. Don't call me. Don't come for me. And if you fuck with him, you fuck with me."

The pain and tiredness in Jin's voice was like a fist around Jackson's heart. He wanted to have the telepath in his arms. He wanted to soothe him, praise him, spoil him, reward him for all that he'd done. He wanted Jin at his side, celebrating their long-awaited victory. That was the only way he'd ever pictured it.

Jackson was not immune to emotion. There was nothing he could do with this regret but bear it. Only time would dull the ache.

"He's lucky," Jackson said quietly. "Your loyalty is an incredible asset." That dark cloud came over his mood again. He almost acknowledged it. But he could not. He could not allow himself to be jealous of Ken.

That would lead to far, far darker skies.

Jin was about to hang up. They'd passed the point in the conversation when he normally would. "Jin."

"What?"

"You mean a great deal to me. And I'll be here when you're ready."

There was a long silence from Jin. And then, finally, there was a soft beep. The call was over.

It was over.

#  54. Teamwork

A small meeting room near the front of KGA had become their de facto headquarters at some point during the afternoon. Aki followed the smell of pizza there, and found Dylan and David sorting about two dozen delivery boxes on the oval table in the center of the room.

Catching sight of him, they both grinned.

One would have done it. Two of those smiles at the same time was a miracle. Aki was too blown away to react. A punch in the heart had never felt so good.

"Seen Ken?" David asked, popping one of the boxes open.

Aki shook his head, finally able to speak. "No, I'll go look for him."

Things seemed to have taken a dramatic upward turn. Aki kept warning himself not to trust it, but the atmosphere was intoxicating.

Ken wasn't in the room where he'd spent the night. Maybe he was with Jin again. Aki had just turned the corner into the hall housing the infirmary when the telepath stepped out of his room, prompting Aki to let out an uncharacteristic exclamation of shock.

_"Uwa!_ " Aki gaped at Jin, who turned and met his eyes. " _Really_?"

The telepath looked him over, a faint smirk touching his lips. He was dressed in dark jeans and a black tee, clothes ARSI had brought for him at Lip's request. "Yeah, really."

Before he knew what he was doing, he'd closed the distance between them and clapped Jin on the back like he was congratulating an old teammate. "Unbelievable," he marveled in Japanese. "You feel okay? Back to normal?"

Jin was clearly perturbed by his friendliness, but gave an affirmative grunt. "You're not dead, either. Not a scratch, huh?"

Aki understood Jin's reaction. He even sounded weird to himself. "I had a couple of burns."

"Fuckin' pyros." Jin reached up and rubbed the back of his head, looking down the hallway with a wary grimace.

"Is Ken in there?" Aki nodded toward the room behind Jin.

"No. Went to find Lip or something." Jin sighed. "Can we fuck off outta here, or what?"

Right. They all found KGA creepy, but for Jin it had to be unbearable. "Soon, I guess." He paused. "You should eat, right? There's pizza. That's why I was looking for Ken."

Jin stared at him for a long moment. "Pizza."

"Yeah."

"You ordered pizza."

"Yeah. ARSI brought rations, but David didn't like them."

Jin looked up and down the hallway again with a baffled shake of his head, but started to walk with Aki.

"I don't know how to tell you how thankful I am."

Jin sighed, but instead of rolling his eyes he said, "You're welcome."

"I owe you an apology. I said things that weren't fair."

The telepath snorted faintly.

"I'm really glad you made it." When there was no answer he asked, "Will you go back to Jackson now?"

"No," Jin said flatly.

Ah. Aki's eyebrows went up. That would explain the surliness even better than the fact they were still inside the former KGA. He recalled Jin on the phone with Jackson, hissing _You're dead to me._ No matter what Aki thought of Jackson and the rest of Jin's team, he knew their bonds ran deep. Cutting those ties could not be pleasant.

"Does that mean you're staying with us?" he asked.

"Apparently."

"Hm." Aki considered this. "Good." He'd already thought this through. He'd stayed up most of the night thinking things through. It was obvious that Ken was more powerful than anyone imagined possible. And if Aki knew anything about psychics, it was that their power could wreak havoc on their minds. He wasn't going to let that happen to Ken. But he wasn't a psychic himself. How much guidance could he offer?

Jin had already earned Ken's trust twice over, and not only that, but he'd proved himself capable of helping him manage his Talent. As far as Aki was concerned, Jin was the most important ally they had.

"Pragmatic," Jin said. "That's a good look for you. Just stop smiling so much. Creeps me out."

Aki laughed. "Some of us are having a good day."

"Look." Jin grabbed Aki's shoulder and turned him so they stood face to face, pointing at Aki with a bossy look. "Jackson's already got three super psychics, including Jen. And a lot of those Talents left out in the field are gonna be wondering what the fuck to do with their lives when they figure out KGA is toast. For your information, they respect the fuck out of Jackson."

Aki nodded, processing this. "So he's already ten steps ahead."

"He's _always_ ten steps ahead. Ken took him by surprise, but don't let those idiots think he's ready for a war with Jackson."

This had already crossed his mind. Ken had more raw power than Jackson. But Aki couldn't ignore the fact that Jackson was doing just fine, and all of his enemies were dead.

Jin nodded, looking vaguely surprised. "You're really not as dumb as you look."

"So what if Ken does go up against Jackson?" Aki asked. "What then? You switch sides?"

Jin's expression darkened. "No."

"I don't hold those loyalties against you," Aki said simply. "I wouldn't trust you if you were quick to sell them out."

The telepath's blue eyes betrayed a twinge of surprise.

"But I don't have your issues. I'm completely on Ken's side. If you're not..."

"I am."

"So what happens when they clash again? What if you really have to choose?"

Jin spoke through gritted teeth. "I am on. His _side_."

Aki studied Jin, considering. Even if Jin were willing to turn on Jackson, he wasn't going to come out and say it. If Aki were in his shoes, he wouldn't say such a thing. And he really did respect the way Jin attempted to keep his loyalties out of conflict, especially since, so far, he'd ultimately sided with Ken.

"All right," Aki said at last. "I appreciate your honesty." He paused. "I hope it continues."

"Christ, you piss me off when you go into Dad Mode."

Aki sighed mildly. "You piss me off almost every time you open your mouth."

"Whatever," Jin sighed, but he seemed more at ease than when the conversation began. He started walking again.

#  55. Pizza Power

Lip dropped into a chair across the table from Ken with a sigh of relief, his paper plate piled with pizza slices. "Those ARSI meals have gotta go," he declared. "Mark cannot be in charge of food."

"You put Mark in charge of food?" Dylan asked, leaning against the wall with a vegetarian slice.

"Mark has shit taste in regular food," David agreed, sliding into the seat at the head of the table with Ken on his right and Lip on his left. "Been vegan too long."

"He'd blame the budget." Lip grinned. "Good thing it's time for some upgrades."

Ken swallowed his first bite of pizza and looked at Lip. "Is it a lot of money?"

Lip's grin widened. "It's a fuckton of money."

The kid smirked and took another enormous bite. His eyes went to the door as Kel and Mark strolled in, discussing the status of ARSI's data collection.

"How're we lookin'?" Lip asked.

"Data's backed up," Mark said. "Map and photos will be done by seven."

"Well, then I think..." He trailed off, looking at the door in shock. "Oh, shit!"

Aki had entered the room, followed by a sullen-looking Jin.

"Jesus, lad," David said to Ken. "Turnin' wine into water next?" Ken frowned, not getting the reference, but David turned his attention to Jin. "Glad you made it through."

Jin's lips formed a tense knot for a moment, but he gave a loose shrug. "Still got a few lives left." David slid a box of pizza down the table to him, and Jin nodded to him in thanks.

Lip watched the telepath slide into a chair near the farthest end of the table, a few seats away from the rest of them. He exchanged a glance with Mark, wondering how this was going to play out. "You stickin' with us for a bit, then?"

Jin gave him a dark and inscrutable look before he focused on lifting a piece of pizza out of the box. He held it up and stared at it for a moment, until a wad of cheese slid off the crust and landed on the table with a splat. Then he looked around the room with a funnier, more thoughtful expression. His eyes settled on Lip. "I'm eating this," he said, "because ordering pizza from KGA is the most fucked up thing I've ever seen you dumbasses do. Historic, even."

Lip couldn't remember the last time he'd had to work so hard not to crack a smile. "Okay."

"But then I'm getting the fuck outta here. Because this place is for sicker fucks than me." Jin took a bite of pizza.

"I don't like it either." Ken said, drawing all eyes to him. He shrugged placidly. "I was thinking we could, like, blow it up."

Jin's mood turned around immediately, his face lighting up with a huge, wicked smile that was clearly meant for Ken and Ken alone. Ken met the telepath's eyes and shrugged again, pleasure warming his features.

Well. Lip looked between them. That cleared things up. He looked at Mark, who was making no effort to hide his amusement.

"Do they have bombs here?" Ken asked.

"Explosives." Jin's grin widened. " _Da._ Lots."

"So let's blow it up." Ken took another bite of pizza.

"Okay, we can't just..." Lip trailed off when they both turned to him with expressions that dared him to rain on the parade. He sighed lightly, thinking about it. Blowing the place up would surely make the news. But as long as they were gone without a trace...

"Fuck it," he decided. "Great idea."

Mark burst out laughing.

Ken dusted off his hands and swallowed his bite. "Can I do it?"

The telepath was staring at Ken like he was made of gold. "I'll show you."

"Not _now_ ," Lip said. "Some of us are stuck here 'til tonight."

"Thank fuckin' God." David snorted. "Thought you were gonna stay here forever, Ken. Thought we'd have to get you a white cat."

"Cliché," Dylan chided. "At least make it a dog."

Ken squinted at them. "Why do I need an animal?"

"Like a Bond villain," Aki explained to Ken. "You know, those old spy movies?"

That seemed to amuse the kid. "I like the Antichrist better."

"You would," Lip laughed.

"Speakin' of," David said. "Can't you just blow the place up with your head?"

"I could light a fuse, at least." He turned to Lip, his strange eyes large and hopeful. "Can we do it tonight?"

Lip was ninety-nine percent sure Ken had no idea when he was being cute, or that Lip couldn't resist it. Anyway, it was good to see he still had it in him now that he'd established himself as a terrifying force of destruction. "When we're done and it's empty, you can do whatever you want."

Ken smiled suddenly, a real smile, with teeth. One where his eyes crinkled and dimples appeared in his cheeks.

Lip grinned back at him.

"Explosions are better at night anyway," Mark remarked with his own smile. He was slouched back in his chair looking like a fucking hunk, casual and languid in a way Lip hadn't seen in a long time.

Kel turned his chair slightly toward Jin and asked him what kind of explosives KGA might have, like it was a perfectly normal form of small talk. The telepath, who had stopped looking like a prisoner of war and found his bag of smirks, answered him rather cheerfully. Mark tuned in with interest. At the other end of the table, Aki and Ken drifted into David and Dylan's easy banter.

Leaning in his chair, Lip let out a private sigh of relief. KGA was gone. They'd come out on top. Everyone was alive. Dylan was back. David was settled. Mark was laughing. Even Jen was all right. Things had swung back to good again, and this time Lip resolved to soak up every second of it while it lasted. Maybe it'd be longer this time.

In fact, looking around the table, he was surprised to realize they were much stronger than ever before. The Talents in the room, with their hybrid abilities and professional experience, made a powerful collective. They weren't Jackson's psychic mercenaries or KGA's ruthless hordes, but they were tough as shit. Even if they'd taken some painful hits over the years, they'd managed to make it through the world without compromising their independence, or even their ethics.

Lip didn't have Jackson's Talent, but his hypercognition wasn't too shabby. He understood the way the man saw things, each person, each event, each action a moving part in a machine. Jackson had his own way of working with that worldview. For Lip, it made it clear that everyone had a place. Not a single one of them could have been left out of the equation. From Dylan's technical support from ARSI to the way David and Aki had stood in for Jin's team when he needed a push, they had all proved indispensible to one another and powerful in their own rights.

Even Sky, in his own tragic way, had played a role. If he hadn't provoked Ken, they wouldn't have known the kid had the ability to knock out Talents, and they wouldn't have known how to get into KGA without that opening. It comforted Lip, a little, to think of that. Sky had made so many mistakes, but the last one, despite its ugliness and against all odds, had contributed to Ken's survival.

They'd all played a part. And if everyone at this twisted pizza party could stick together, Lip figured, they could handle anything.

Explosions were better at night. It was one in the morning by the time they all stood on the hill overlooking KGA. Kel had taken Ken, David, and Aki for a walk in and around the facilities with a satchel of plastic explosives, teaching them how to target certain points of the structure and what to do if they ever ran short on firepower. They weren't running short today, obviously. Ken wanted a Hollywood explosion.

They all expected him to pull the trigger, but he passed the smart phone to Jin. The telepath slung an arm around the kid's neck, smiling like the rest of them weren't there. The explosion was huge and fiery and action-movie-loud, just like Ken wanted.

And then it was back to California.

#  56. New World Order

Everyone settled back down around Los Angeles. Dylan and Mark took over a house in Laurel Canyon. Lip had an apartment downtown. Aki, David and Ken went back to the same house on the beach where they'd been living before. And Jin reclaimed the hotel suite in the offbeat oceanfront chateau north of the city that he'd adopted in the weeks leading up to KGA.

Ken was secretly glad. He liked that suite. He liked the private balcony and the sound of the waves crashing, the clean view of the black, rocky cove, the ocean beyond, and the sky. The air was fresh and it made it easy to think. He liked it so much he was about to close a deal on the whole hotel, his first purchase with all that KGA money. It was going to be funny to own the place and not tell Jin until he felt like it.

It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was about to go down. Ken was kicked back in one of the wood-and-pillow lounge chairs on the balcony, freshly showered, dressed in a pair of trunks and a white terry robe. He'd swung by out of boredom after a long drive through the mountains, but the suite was empty when he came in. Ken didn't know if Jin would be back anytime soon, but he didn't care. He was comfortable.

Until his phone rang and he looked at the screen. Ken's mood darkened instantly. He recognized the number. Lip had put it into his phone with all the other ones he was supposed to know, and he'd ignored two calls from it in the month since KGA had fallen.

Glowering, he raised the phone to his ear. "Jackson."

"I'm glad you picked up." Jackson's voice was exactly as he remembered it from the night they'd met in the train yard. Calm and confident, with a strangely hypnotic cadence.

It pissed Ken off. He said nothing.

Jackson didn't seem to mind. "I've wanted to congratulate you on your astonishing performance at KGA. I always knew you'd do great things."

"Like end up in a coma?" Ken said, unimpressed. "Or insane?"

"You did exceed my expectations."

"You mean you were wrong and you fucked up."

Jackson breezed by that. "I realize you've never seen me as an ally..."

Ken sighed, glaring out over the crashing waves. "What do you want?"

"I'd like us to work together."

Ken snorted, then started to laugh.

"Ken." Jackson laughed, too, which soured Ken's expression instantly. "I'm perfectly serious."

"Work together on what?"

"I'm recruiting Talents for my own training program and agency. I'd like for you to be involved."

Ken nodded grimly. He'd expected that. "Well, I don't like you. So."

"That's all right. But you've done something extraordinary for me, and I'd be pleased to do something for you as well. There's a great deal I could teach you."

"I don't need anything from you."

"Raw power will only take you so far, Ken. With all due respect, you have no idea what you're doing, and you're very short on guidance."

"I have Jin."

"For now."

Ken bristled so hard it surprised him, his lips tightening into an angry knot for a second before he reminded himself that Jackson was full of shit. If the precognitive thought he was going to get his telepath back, then he _really_ needed to reassess his grip on the future. Jin wasn't going anywhere.

"Think about it," Jackson said. "And know that you can always reach out to me. I know a great deal about the things you're sure to go through. I'll always help in any way I can. Don't ever hesitate to ask."

"I'd rather kill you. And if I see you, that's what I might do."

"No, you won't," Jackson assured him. "You're smarter than that."

Ken gritted his teeth and lowered the phone for a moment.

Jackson was right: Power wasn't everything. The precognitive knew more of the world than he did, and more of Talent, and certainly more of the future. As much as Ken hated it, he knew Jackson could be useful, somehow, down the road—though he wasn't even a little bit interested in imagining how. At the very least, he was keeping Jen under control now, which Ken knew was important. But that didn't mean make it any easier to stomach all the stupid Holy Father bullshit.

Lifting the phone again, Ken finally grated out the only response Jackson deserved: "Whatever."

Jackson took it in stride. "Well, I've said what I wanted to say. And once again, Ken, bravo. You are an incredible Talent. I look forward to seeing your future unfold."

"Sounds like you need to work on that."

"Indeed." Jackson sounded amused. "Just know that we're not enemies."

"Agree to disagree."

Jackson laughed softly, like that pleased him. Like he'd really enjoyed this conversation, overall. "Goodbye."

Ken ended the call, tossed the phone down and got to his feet. He stalked over to the edge of the balcony and folded his arms over the railing, glaring down into the churning waves of the cove. The sun was almost at the horizon now, and the water sparkled with shades of gold and pink and dusky blue.

He imagined punting Jackson off of the balcony and watching him land in the waves with a muted splash.

\- - -

No KGA, no assignments. It was the first real vacation Jin had ever had, and it was damn good. Lazy afternoons lounging on sunny, secluded beaches. Soaking up expensive booze at the occasional Hollywood after party. Racing his bike out into the desert with nothing but open space around him for miles.

And, of course, Ken.

Jin wasn't usually the type to stay in one place by choice, but the hotel he'd claimed served a glorious purpose: Ken couldn't resist it. It never got old to walk into the top-floor suite— _their_ suite, he called it in his head—and find Ken lounging around like the place was his. Of course Ken always acted like he had no idea Jin would show up, but Jin knew better.

This evening was one of those happy occasions. Jin walked in and immediately spotted Ken loitering on the balcony. He was leaning forward against the railing, dressed in one of the hotel's white robes, his black hair gleaming in the gold light of the setting sun.

Jin made his way to a lounge chair, scooping up an open bottle of wine on the way. He reclined and took a swig, studying Ken's back. The demon prince had the fine shape and balanced posture of a statue, a grace that was easy to miss and then impossible to un-see. His stillness was only part of it. He moved like a shadow.

Ken turned to face him, leaning back against the railing with his arms crossed loosely under his bare chest. The wind swept the hem of the white robe behind his naked legs. Jin paid closer attention, enjoying the sight of his neatly defined abs, the cut of his hipbones above his trunks, and the long lines of his pale thighs. He watched Ken step away from the railing and come closer, and then raised his eyebrows in surprise when Ken straddled the chair.

"Hey," Jin said with a slow smile as Ken sank down on his lap. He ran his hands up those firm thighs, dipping his thumbs beneath the cuffs of his trunks to find the junctures of his hips.

Ken reached out to grasp the back of the chair and leaned down until his face was inches from Jin's. Jin expected a kiss, but he should have known better. Ken only studied him, his green eyes intent and unrevealing.

Since KGA, Ken had relaxed—especially with Jin—but he hadn't really changed. He still had that strange, cool intensity, the tendency to watch closely without giving anything away. And he still refused to show his thoughts, even a little bit, even for the sake of routine subterfuge. He chose to keep his head as conspicuously silent as it had always been.

Jin didn't know the exact motive for this stubbornness. It reminded him of how Ken still kept the tracings of all his scars—even though he could heal them at any time, even though he rarely acknowledged them. It was clear that Ken made many important decisions for himself in secret, with no intention of ever explaining them to anyone.

Without a word, Ken closed the distance between their lips. It was a slow, heavy kiss, one that made heat unfurl in Jin's chest and spread throughout his body. He moved his hands up Ken's sides, indulgently groping every inch of smooth skin and muscle beneath his robe.

Already he was getting stiff, and when Ken shifted, Jin felt the hard line of his cock through his trunks. With a low grown he slid his palms up Ken's torso, up to the smooth planes of his chest, where his nipples were tight and stiff. Forgetting himself, Jin caught one between two fingers before Ken stiffened.

Right. Off limits. Jin instantly let his hand slide back down to Ken's ribs with a mumbled apology. But Ken had already relaxed with a loose shiver and a soft sound of pleasure.

Surprised, Jin pulled back just enough to find those strange green eyes, wondering if he should try it again. Ken merely huffed and kissed him again. At the same time, he took Jin's hand and slowly pulled it back up to his chest.

Christ, would wonders never cease? Jin exhaled as he brushed his palm softly along, letting it just graze that small, hard point, making sure it was really allowed. When Ken only deepened his kiss, Jin traced one feather-light fingertip in a slow circle, closing in with a gentle flick. Ken's sigh made his stomach tighten with want.

Fuck, Ken went to his head in the strangest ways. This sensation of _pride_ when he got to touch him, to hold him, had never been normal. The way he always felt like Ken could do anything to him, ask anything of him, and he'd do it, had never been normal.

Jin braced a hand against the cushion and sat upright, holding Ken around the hips and kissing a slow, hungry path down his neck. Ken was breathing harder, his chest heaving gently as Jin made his way down. Pausing between kisses, Jin looked up to admire the pale, scarred column of Ken's throat and the taut, scarred skin of his chest, the small pink discs now pebble-hard and begging for attention. Jin exhaled and dragged his tongue over one, savoring the shape before he sucked it gently between his lips.

A deep moan burst from Ken's lips. His fingers went into Jin's hair, his spine rolling slightly.

Wasn't normal. Wasn't normal feeling like this. And Jin knew he had to keep it, because after Ken nothing else would ever thrill him again.

Ken was moving steadily in his lap, and Jin reached down to push the trunks down his hips. No sooner had he wrapped his hand around Ken's rigid cock than Ken was working on his pants. Jin groaned against his throat, stroking him slow and steady. There was always too much he wanted to do, too many places he wanted to taste at once. He tipped Ken back on his lap, lavishing more attention on his nipples, teasing and stroking and kissing and sucking to make up for all the times he hadn't been allowed.

It was worth the wait. Ken was breathing in unsteady gasps and making startled, husky sounds like Jin was blowing his mind.

Jin barely managed to pause long enough to peel off his own shirt. It was only a few moments before they were naked and ready. He stayed upright, Ken straddling his hips, his sharp, slender body trembling at each caress. Jin gently pulled him closer, looking up and finding Ken's cool green eyes staring down at him with an intensity he couldn't read.

Jin held that gaze as he gripped his own throbbing cock, rubbing the tip against Ken's entrance. Ken shifted, encouraging, and Jin pushed, easing himself inside as slowly as he could. Ken's eyelids grew heavy, and he let out a soft breath.

There was nothing like this, feeling his cock slide deeper and deeper, soaking up the way Ken's body tensed and relaxed and shivered until they were molded tight. Ken's hands slid into his hair, gently stroking; Jin was reminded for a moment of that morning at KGA, when he'd felt Ken's fingertips putting his mind back together.

It was all worth it.

This was all he wanted.

Ken was the only thing he wanted, and Ken was his.

Jin kept his hands moving as he rocked Ken on his hips, feeling his loosely folded legs and his lightly muscled ribs, his shoulder blades and his neck, letting no inch of bare skin go neglected. Each time he flicked a thumb over a nipple he was rewarded by a low, sharp moan and a tug of Ken's fingers in his hair.

_Say my name,_ Jin wanted to say, and hid the urge in another kiss. He tilted Ken back slightly again, urging him to arch his back so he could slide more hot kisses along his neck and chest.

Another low, astonished moan spilled out of Ken. His thighs trembled more and more as he rode Jin's cock, and his breath came in startled gasps. Suddenly his hand closed firmly on Jin's shoulder and pushed him to his back. Never breaking pace, Ken lengthened his spine until he was nearly upright. As Jin watched, he reached down to stroke his cock.

The sight of it pushed Jin abruptly toward the edge. He gripped Ken's hips and urged him on, hungrily watching him work his pale fist along his flushed and glistening dick. Ken's eyes were closed, his expression blissful, his brow knitted in concentration. Jin gasped hard and clenched his thighs, determined not to come yet, but then Ken's spine snapped taut and he threw his head back.

"Jin!"

There was no escaping it. Jin's abs curled tight, his upper body surging upward with the force of his orgasm. His mouth fell open on a silent cry before he gasped and clamped an arm around Ken's waist, sitting up again and thrusting into him wildly. Ken's come hit his chest and neck and Jin sealed his mouth to the hard line of his jaw, moaning with him.

Ken turned his head and found his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip as they rode it out to the final, fading pulses.

"Fu-uck," Jin groaned softly, cradling Ken in his arms and relaxing against his shoulder.

They stayed there hot and shivering for several minutes, letting the wind from the ocean cool them down. Jin never wanted to move.

Of course, it was Ken who came around first, pushing him to his back and leaning over him again. He looked like a fucking treasure after sex, his strange eyes tranquil and alluring.

Then he spoke. "Jackson called me."

Jin blinked and raised his eyebrows. This warranted a serious reaction, but he was so fucked out and content that he had trouble summoning one.

"I'll tell you what he said," Ken said. "Later."

Jin frowned slightly. Hearing Ken explicitly offer to share something with him was new, and vaguely disorienting.

"I'm not going to start a fight with him," Ken went on. "But I can't let him get too far ahead of me."

It occurred to Jin quite profoundly that Ken had never spoken of Jackson so calmly. And he was watching Jin closely, almost patiently, like he cared what he thought. _Confiding_ in him.

"Yeah," Jin said at last, and pulled Ken down to sprawl on top of him. He kissed the top of Ken's head, putting his thoughts together. It had only ever been a matter of time before Ken started making plans like this. Ken's and Jackson's paths were never going to be very far apart. Whatever intentions they had, each would keep the other in his sights, watching and analyzing every move, probably until the end of days.

"He's recruiting," Ken said. "So I have to recruit, too. I have to talk to Lip and figure out what to do."

"I'll help," Jin said.

Ken was quiet for a moment. Then he reached up and put a hand on Jin's cheek, turning his head for one more long, leisurely kiss before he opened his eyes again. "I know," he said. "You always help me."

Jin's heart swelled up until he thought it would pop. He reached up to brush a strand of hair from Ken's temple. "So you do notice."

"Yeah." A small smile tugged briefly at the corner of Ken's lips, but the intensity had returned to his eyes, and he lowered his voice. "I know how much you've done for me."

"Does that mean I get to stay?"

Ken looked at him very seriously for another moment. Then he pressed a light kiss to Jin's lips and said, "You don't get to leave."

With that, he pulled away and walked inside, leaving Jin with a grin so wide his cheeks ached.

Jin put himself in order and then stretched along the lounge chair with a contented sigh, laying his head back and closing his eyes.

Just weeks ago, the simmering rivalry between Ken and Jackson had worried him to the point of fatigue. But now that the new status quo was settling into place, he found himself in a strange state of acceptance.

Jackson was going to grab as much power as he could. That was just the way he was.

Ken wasn't going to tolerate Jackson having more power than he did. That was just the way _he_ was.

Maybe there'd be no conflict. Maybe the war would stay cold. But there was a line in the sand and for now it was drawn between two exemplary Talents who had, separately and yet together, eliminated their only shared predator. Everything that happened from here on out depended on how Ken decided to handle sharing the world with Jackson, whose rise to power was already deeply, intrinsically entangled with his own.

Abandoning Jackson for Ken had been harrowing, in a way. He'd never planned on leaving Jackson, or even Giovanni or Rin. But KGA was gone, and they'd be fine. Jin had no regrets.

He was on Ken's side. And really, he'd known that all along. Whatever the kid needed, Jin would help him, which he knew meant helping Lip and Aki and all the rest. They were right to keep track of Jackson, to guard their own independence. Ken would only get more serious about it as time went on. And Jin would be there at his side, sharing all the knowledge and experience he had to offer.

Whatever. He reached for the wine and finished off the bottle, then settled back into the cushions with a lazy smirk. Fuck if he was going to waste time worrying about the future, or the past. He'd take it day by day as he always had. It wasn't hard when the days were so damn good.

To think he'd landed in Paris all those months ago and thought he was going to be bored. The way things were going, he'd never be bored again.

With one last stretch, Jin slid off of the chair and headed inside to pester Ken.

Hello, Friends

_Paranormal m/m smut? Sounds like a low-key way to pay bills and write boner stuff!_ Cut to me spending the next several years on a dark, dramatic series about hot psychics with mental problems—who fuck. These characters have had me hooked for quite some time. I really miss writing them. All of them!

Thank you so much for reading, everyone. I hope you liked it. And while you're here...

**Reviews keep indie authors going.** Please tell the internet what you thought!

**Get into my other books** at clairecraybooks.com.

**Follow me on Twitter** at @claire_cray.

**Like my Facebook page** at <https://www.facebook.com/ClaireCray>.

Finally, I could never have finished this without my favorite stranger-pen-pal in the entire world: Valerie, you are the best. You always know exactly what I'm trying to get at. I want to write a hundred stories _just_ to send you the drafts and hear your amazing insights and suggestions. You are the psychic of my writer dreams.

Let's all hang out again. Until then!

-Claire

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