State of Mind - 2. Chapter 2

Banking on obscurity, Grier chose to hide in Manhattan. His Sutton Place residence consisted of four interconnected rooms, but dripped opulence and came with the kind of original architectural detail that buyers craved. Grier couldn't care less about stone gargoyles and marble columns. Security was stringent, discreet, and round the clock. He'd deemed it expensive, but affordable. His time with the Organization had paid well, and his assets were secure in several different Swiss accounts.

He had no illusions that he'd be safe forever. The Organization would track him down. But it'd been two weeks without a trace of pursuit, and a cold trail meant a smaller chance of discovery.

Nightmares haunted his sleep – screams and smoke and sirens – and often Grier woke with a shouted denial on his lips, drenched in sweat and sick to his stomach. He'd followed the story in the days after the bombing, morbidly fascinated with how high the number of dead climbed. He could've stopped it, but he hadn't been fast enough. That haunted him most of all.

His living room window faced Central Park. Morning coffee in hand, he caught his reflection in the glass. The absence of a Monitor had spurred a miraculous recuperation. In the space of two weeks, his stamina and acuity had skyrocketed, despite the disturbed sleep. He wondered if Graviel knew the long-term side effects of constant monitoring.

The old fool most likely did.

Grier's skin, sallow to the point of being yellow, had regained the healthy glow he'd enjoyed in his early twenties. His eyes glinted a sharper green, his hair a richer black. Restless energy had replaced the draining fatigue that had plagued him for years.

A vague hope had taken seed: that he'd find the peace he'd spent years chasing. The hurdles were many, including a persistent idea that he didn't deserve any measure of serenity. Not after letting so many die.

But he was going to try.

He slipped into his shoes and donned a light overcoat, one that complimented his tailored trousers and linen shirt. His had never been the boyish good looks of some, but more rakish. His cheek bones were high and prominent, his nose angular. He kept his black hair shaggy, so that it fell just over his deep-set eyes. It was a countenance that had served him well over the years, and one to which he'd grown accustomed.

He locked the apartment behind him and rode the elevator to the lobby. Greeting the doorman with a slight nod, he slipped out into the sunshine. As was his habit, he extended his senses, searching for agents or other Gifteds that may be close. He detected nothing, and with a self-satisfied smile, turned up the street toward the deli.

A figure darted by, bumping his shoulder and nearly jarring him off his feet. Grier twisted and caught himself as he stumbled.

When he straightened, the scathing comment he'd prepared died on his lips. The man smiled at him, and he too straightened to his full height, a couple inches shy of Grier's six foot three. Grier chastised his inattention. At this rate, the Organization would have him in less than a week.

"I'm very sorry," the young man said, smile still in place.

"It's no trouble," Grier mumbled, enchanted by the way the sunlight reflected off the man's blue eyes.

The young man's smile faltered at the perusal, and Grier brought himself up short. Unnerved, he offered a mumbled, "Good day," before walking away.

*~*~*

Trepidation creeping up his spine, Aleck watched Grier stalk off. He was the only Gifted able to mask his presence from others like him, and his talent was a closely guarded secret. He'd felt Grier's subtle probe of the crowd when he'd exited the building, and he'd passed over Aleck without pausing.

What he hadn't expected from Grier was gracious politeness, and he certainly hadn't been prepared for the flash of interest in his eyes. Grier's appearance had thrown him, and Aleck didn't appreciate being caught off guard. Graviel's grainy snapshot had been of a jaundiced and battered man, one who looked closer to fifty than thirty-eight.

While Grier's skin was still pale, it was milky rather than yellow, with healthy spots of pink smudged across the cheekbones. His hair had been shiny and well groomed, his eyes a clear green. And although Aleck had been unable to touch Grier's mind, lest he give himself away as a Gifted, he sensed his contentment. All in all, Grier struck Aleck as a good man, and he always trusted his instincts, ability-enhanced or not.

He turned and walked away, contemplating Grier's reaction.

Aleck knew he was considered handsome. And it wasn't unusual for him to take advantage of that if the mission demanded it. But his personal life was another matter. Attraction – sexual or otherwise – was a liability. He didn't need or want romantic attachments, and the Organization frowned on them.

But this man, Grier, had been attracted to him. The question was how to use that development to his advantage.

Conflicted, Aleck squeezed his eyes shut. It made better sense to report Grier's position and go home. Leave the rest to Graviel. Yet he hesitated. Grier wasn't what Aleck had expected, an incongruity that boosted his curiosity.

He slipped into a small shop across from Grier's apartment building. His Monitor's presence buzzed in his head, but Aleck tuned her out. He wasn't ready to make a move. He'd wait for Grier to return to his apartment, then he'd choose a course of action. Smiling at the shopkeeper, Aleck began to flip through the mountains of t-shirts and key chains.

*~*~*

Resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder took all the willpower Grier possessed, which embarrassed him. He pinched his lips together and plowed ahead, away from the man with the sparkling blue eyes. He pondered as he walked, for once tuning out the thoughts of the people around him to instead focus on his own.

Sexual desire was an infrequent physiological response for agents – yet another side-effect to the numbing exhaustion of hosting a Monitor. Eventually the body forgot how to be aroused. But not forever, because the electric feeling that had blossomed in his stomach and sizzled through his groin had been clear enough.

He entered the deli and greeted the woman behind the counter. Her face lit up when she saw him. "Hi, Mr. Swann, how are you today?"

Grier returned the smile. "Fine, Carrie. Thank you. I'll take the usual." Carrie bustled away to fix his meal, while Grier took delight in the normality of the situation. He ran his palm along the counter, past the stack of paper menus, smiling when he realized it had been days since he'd consulted one.

Is this what an ordinary life felt like? Twenty years with the Organization had tainted him. He'd helped many people, and for the most part, had made the world a safer place – until recently.

His hand clenched on the edge of the counter, and a frown replaced his smile. These past months had produced one suspicious, questionable mission after another. If only he'd removed himself sooner, before the summit.

He was still deep in thought when Carrie returned with his boxed sandwich and salad. Her friendly expression dimmed when she looked at him, and Grier winced. "Thank you, Carrie," he said, forcing a smile.

"You're welcome, Mr. Swann," the small woman replied. "You look a bit sad. Nothing's wrong, I hope?" As Grier shook his head, he reached out and brushed against her mind, alleviating her worry for him.

"I feel fine, but thank you for asking."

Her brilliant smile returned, and he left without another word. On the walk home, hating himself for his weakness, Grier searched for the blue-eyed man.

*~*~*

Aleck watched Grier greet his doorman and disappear into the lobby. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leaned against the storefront. For over an hour, he studied the building, considering his options. The decision, when he made it, felt right. He wouldn't terminate the assignment. Not yet.

Report, the voice sounded in his head for the third time that hour.

Aleck chewed his bottom lip and stared at the building as he replied. No contact yet.

*~*~*

Aleck woke to a pounding headache that grew tenfold when he struggled to sit up. He swallowed the nausea and eased backward until his head was again cushioned on the pillow. Blindly, he grabbed for the bottle of pills on the nightstand and swallowed two, trying not to vomit at the bitter taste.

He cracked one eye at the digital clock by the bed and cursed. Late as hell, but he wasn't going anywhere feeling like this. He closed his eyes and waited for the painkillers to kick in. Light meditation helped the pain, but it was a struggle to reach even the shallowest state of relaxation. A small moan escaped when his cell phone began to ring, and he waited, hands plastered to the sides of his head, until it fell silent.

Tense, he waited for the inevitable. If he'd been able to cross the room without emptying the contents of his stomach, he would've answered the phone. Not that it mattered. He'd worked with this Monitor before and knew how she operated. The next call would come straight to him.

Report, Nora demanded.

"Fuck off," Aleck groaned and risked rolling over to bury his head under the pillow.

Report.

"I said I'd report when I made contact, damn it, now leave me alone," he yelled, swiping at the involuntary tears of pain that leaked from his eyes. Nora took the hint, but the connection became an angry buzz in his head.

Aleck threw the covers back and stumbled to the bathroom. His accommodations were neither elegant nor seedy – a standard room in a mid-priced hotel, where the chances of being noticed were slim to none.

He didn't bother with the harsh florescent lights, just whipped his hand across the spigot, blasting frigid water into the sink. Taking large handfuls, he splashed his face several times. For a long moment he stayed curled over the counter, letting the water drip from his face and hair. When he risked a glance in the mirror, his sunken, bloodshot eyes and hollow cheeks drew a scowl. He'd have no chance of holding Grier's interest looking like this.

"Fuck it all," he whispered as he turned toward the shower. Shucking his underwear, he climbed in. What on earth had possessed him not to turn the dogs loose on Grier yesterday? Whatever the reason for his poor judgment, Aleck vowed not to let it happen again today.

*~*~*

Grier frowned into his coffee. Choosing to eat in one of the tucked-away booths instead of going home had been a bad decision. He conducted sweep after sweep of the crowd, but couldn't detect any overt danger. Why was he so uneasy?

He drew his coat around himself and hunched over his meal. The noise was deafening, making it difficult to block the stray emotions of those seated close. When a particularly vulgar thought from the man across the aisle slithered its way into his brain, Grier gave a frustrated sigh and gathered up the remnants of his meal. He would eat at home.

"Are you finished? I was just wondering if I could join you."

Grier froze, knowing before he even looked who was standing over him. A quick glance confirmed his suspicions. "I was just leaving," he mumbled to the blue-eyed man.

"Oh, okay," the man said, but he didn't move away from the table. Grier took a closer look at him, noticing things he'd missed yesterday.

The man's eyes were the cobalt blue that Grier remembered, but today they looked lifeless, the creases below smudged black. Pronounced fatigue or high levels of stress, Grier guessed. Or both. He looked like a strung-out drug addict. Or a Gifted after a long assignment. Anxious, Grier reached out with his mind, searching for the telltale signature that all Gifteds carried. He breathed an inaudible sigh of relief when he found nothing. Curiously, he couldn't penetrate the man's head. That did happen occasionally.

The young man hovered. "I don't want to impose," he said. "But there aren't any empty tables, and I thought—" He paused and licked his lips before flashing a lazy smile. "I was just looking for a bit of conversation."

That's not all you're looking for, Grier thought, but kept silent. Making a split second decision, he gestured to the empty chair, and with a grin, the blue-eyed man dropped into it. "Thanks."

Grier nodded but didn't speak. The man smiled at him through lowered lashes. "I'm Jeremy," he said, offering his hand. Grier grasped it.

"Stephen," he reciprocated with a nod of greeting. Jeremy leaned back in his chair.

"Nice to meet you," he said. He held Grier's stare for another moment before turning to flag Carrie down.

"Yes, beautiful," Carrie teased as she bustled over, "what can I get for you?"

"Whatever Stephen is having," Jeremy said. "It looks delicious." Carrie's eyes crinkled at the corners when she smirked.

"Maybe he'll let you taste his."

Grier groaned. Just what he needed - a busybody matchmaker. "I'm afraid not. He'll have to risk it."

"I'll risk it," Jeremy said with a wink.

"Coming right up, handsome."

Jeremy shook his head, watching as she slipped behind the counter to prepare his lunch. "She looks out for you," he said, taking a sip of the coffee she'd left behind.

Unnerved by his inability to read his companion, Grier was cautious with his answers. "Apparently she's taken it upon herself to do so. I didn't encourage it," he added.

Jeremy tapped his fingers on the table. "No, I expect you didn't. You don't look the type to enjoy being fussed over."

Grier nodded, and, baffled by the mysterious Jeremy, let the conversation die. The silence turned awkward, and Jeremy bit the inside of his cheek. "Okay, Stephen. I can tell you're not comfortable with this." He drained his cup and stood. "It was nice to meet you." The smile returned as he fished out a couple of bills for the coffee. "Don't let Carrie get too cocky," he teased as he turned away.

Grier shot out of his chair and grabbed Jeremy's arm. How much longer was he going to let the Organization dictate his happiness? Damn caution to hell; it was time to start living again. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm a little slow off the mark. My job…never mind." Grier loosened his grip and let his hand slide down over Jeremy' fingers. "Please, I'd like you to stay."

A strange look flashed in Jeremy's eyes. "I'd like that."

*~*~*

His act worked like a charm, though Aleck felt a twinge of guilt when Grier asked him to stay. Time to remind himself what was at stake. Grier had breached protocol, sacrificed his Monitor's life, and could be working to expose the Organization.

Still, the shadowed, lonely look in his eyes haunted Aleck, and – not for the first time –he questioned the validity of his intelligence regarding Grier Crist. He itched to probe Grier's mind, to discover once and for all what secrets he was hiding, but that would be foolhardy and dangerous. Grier would recognize him for what he was, a Gifted, and would either flee or try to kill him. Maybe both. Aleck would have to rely on his training and instincts, both of which were well-developed, but not as impeccable or useful as his gifts.

He wasn't entirely comfortable playing the part of interested paramour, but if it got him into Grier's apartment, he'd endure.

He felt like hell and looked it too. Grier had taken notice of his haggard appearance and had tried to read him. He was suspicious; no surprise there. Accepting Aleck's advances, though… that hadn't been smart. All in all, Grier's erratic behavior was damn confusing.

"You started to say something about your work?" Aleck asked as he settled back into his seat.

Grier shrugged one shoulder. "Yes. My employer got himself mixed up in some shady business deals. I was caught in the crossfire and left soon afterward."

Aleck adopted an empathetic expression, but was more confused than ever. Grier's tone and body language didn't ring of any falsehood. He couldn't detect the slightest hint that Grier was lying.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Aleck said. Grier's hands clenched into fists on his lap.

"Thank you. We were close, and I was sorry to see him so corrupted."

Carrie arrived with his food, and Aleck used the distraction to mask his dismay. Was Grier referring to Graviel? There was no way to know for sure. Time to turn the conversation to more mundane things.

"I'm new to the area," Aleck said. "Perhaps you can offer some recommendations for restaurants…besides this quality establishment," he added when Carrie scowled and smacked him with her notepad. Grier laughed as she stalked away, mumbling about the fickle tastes of youngsters. Aleck joined in, his amusement genuine. "What shall I do to sooth her ruffled feathers?" he asked with a chuckle.

Grier shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine." He blew across the top of the steaming coffee. "I've just met her myself."

"You're new around here too?"

Grier went stiff. "I am."

Not squirming under Grier's sharp eyes took all of Aleck's formidable acting abilities. "It's nice to meet someone like me." He let the conversation lull once more. This time, it was anything but awkward.

"I live a few blocks away," Grier said in a low voice. "Perhaps we could continue our conversation there."

Straightforward. Respectful, even. Though Grier's tone left little question as to the nature of the invitation.

"I'd like that," Aleck answered in the same quiet voice. Grier's eyes flashed with heat, and Aleck caught his breath. Unnerved, he stood and offered his hand. Grier took it, his touch more a caress than a shake, and Aleck's mouth went dry. "I just need to take care of something first. Can I meet you there?"

Grier hesitated but rattled off his address. Aleck squeezed his fingers, then rose and slipped out of the deli, heading in the opposite direction from Grier's building. After two blocks, he ducked into a corner store, made his way to the back, and leaned against one of the refrigerators that lined the wall. It wasn't the best hiding place, but it would do.

The chilled glass felt wonderful so he turned around and rested his forehead on it, pretending, when the owner came slinking back to investigate, that he was having trouble choosing a drink. His head was throbbing again, and this time he couldn't blame it on his Monitor. A few minutes to gather himself, that was all he needed.

The owner leaned around the end of the aisle. "Either buy something or get out," he yelled. "This ain't a hotel."

"You have atrocious manners," Aleck mumbled. He turned his head, sliding his cheek along the condensation-coated glass. "Fuck off." Adding a hint of mental suggestion to his words did the trick. The owner blinked once and nodded.

"Right," he said as he turned away, scratching at the stained t-shirt stretched over his belly. "I'll just fuck off."

If only everything was so easy. In a fit of frustration, Aleck struck the glass with his fist. The cans inside rattled. Where was his objectivity? The evidence didn't lie: Grier was dangerous. Why the hell did Aleck want to trust him?

And why, he wondered, turning the other cheek against the glass, was he having such a physical reaction to the man. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened. Aleck disliked being touched, he always had. No accounting for the tingle of anticipation in his chest then. He punched the glass again.

Report.

Bristling, Aleck answered–Have made contact, stand by – then waited. There was no chance that would satisfy Nora.

What is your position and the position of the target?

Aleck pursed his lips. For some reason, he took exception to Grier being called 'the target.' Will update in two hours, he sent. Nora's response was immediate and angry.

Report your position and stand down.

"To hell with that," Aleck murmured. I'll report in two hours. He punctuated his words with a forceful mental shove, hoping Nora took the hint. He'd hate to have to resort to other measures. He didn't enjoy causing his Monitors any pain, but he couldn't risk being interrupted while with Grier. Braced for Nora's backlash, he was amazed when the link stayed quiet.

Aleck pushed off the bank of coolers and ran his fingers through his hair. As he reached the front of the store, he caught his reflection in the window and shook his head. What did Grier see in him? Aleck paused and did his best to tame his wild mass of hair. Good thing the disheveled look was in. Though there was still the matter of his tired eyes and emaciated frame. Shrugging, he left the store and headed north.

If Grier found him attractive despite his faults, who was he to argue?

*~*~*

"An update, Ms. Picket?"

Nora jumped, upsetting the glass she'd been holding, and icy water spilled over her notes and into her lap. Graviel snatched some tissues from a nearby desk and handed them over. Nora grunted a thanks as she mopped up the worst of the mess.

"I didn't mean to startle you."

"That's all right. It's my fault. I was preoccupied with Aleck." Nora tossed the damp tissues into the trashcan and gestured for Graviel to sit. He glanced around, then pulled a chair from the suite's kitchen area and joined her. Their hotel wasn't anything special, but it beat trying to monitor Aleck from the back of a van. Graviel watched Nora pluck at her damp jeans and straighten her glasses. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Bad news, I take it? Aleck hasn't found him?" Nora's pause put Graviel on guard. "Ms. Picket?"

"There has been contact." Nora stretched the words out, pulling at the thick braid of hair hanging over her shoulder.

"But?" Graviel prompted, miffed at having to pry the information from her.

"He refused to report his position, sir."

Graviel frowned and sat back in his chair. Not one to rush to judgment, he pondered before he spoke. Nora was an experienced Monitor, familiar with the protocol of such a situation. She would've pushed Aleck for details. The fact that Aleck had refused was worrisome.

"I can try to reestablish contact," Nora offered. Graviel sensed her hesitation.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No, sir," Nora insisted. "Not really. Just a small sting. The situation is evolving quickly, and he needed privacy."

The situation. Leave it to Nora to euphemize the current disaster. She was far too professional to ask why Aleck was tracking Grier Crist, one of the Organization's best assets.

"Should I inform the Directorate?"

Graviel refocused on Nora. "Why would you do that, Ms. Picket?"

Nora faltered. "I just thought…."

"Am I not a member of the Directorate?"

"Yes, sir. You are," Nora confirmed in a shaky voice, drawing into herself. She reminded Graviel of a church mouse.

"Do I not, in fact, head the Directorate and the Organization?"

"You do, sir. I—"

Graviel cut her off with a gesture. "I understand your concern. Rest assured, the situation is well in hand."

"Yes sir."

She fell silent, for which Graviel was thankful. He had little tolerance for curiosity or insubordination at the moment, and removing Nora would make an unstable situation more volatile.

They were all walking a thin enough tightrope as it was.