State of Mind - 3. Chapter 3

Grier had paved his way; the doorman didn't gave Aleck a second glance. Henry Shipton, his small, tasteful nametag said. Aleck paused just inside the wide glass doors and waited until he had Henry's attention.

"I'm sorry," Aleck said. "But I'm supposed to meet Mr. Swann—"

"Yes, he's expecting you." Henry clasped his hands behind his back, his vague smile just twisted enough to indicate he knew the precise reason for Aleck's visit.

"I'm afraid I've forgotten the apartment number," Aleck admitted in a rush. Then, while Henry chuckled, Aleck reached into his mind and planted a suggestion. He needed to drop his guard for a moment to do so and prayed Grier was too preoccupied to notice the sudden presence of a Gifted so close by. He planted the thought and retreated, raising his mental shields once more. Henry blinked and stared at Aleck for a moment before his eyes cleared.

"No problem, young man. It's apartment 1508."

Aleck smiled his thanks and headed toward the elevator. It was two-thirty. If all went as planned, he had fifteen minutes before Henry called. He'd better make the most of it.

It always paid to plan for a hasty retreat, so once on the fifteenth floor, Aleck made a circuit of the halls, memorizing the location of the fire exits. Aware of how much time was passing, he returned to Grier's apartment and knocked twice. Footsteps approached, but the door never opened. Aleck frowned. Grier was standing right on the other side, he didn't need his gifts to know that. Had he changed his mind?

Aleck's window of opportunity was slipping away. He lifted his hand to knock again when the door swung open.

Show time. Aleck grinned, and Grier offered a small smile in return. "Come in."

"Thanks." He brushed against Grier as he passed into the room. "Very nice." Which was an understatement. Sunlight poured in through the giant picture window. Beyond, Central Park spread out in a patchwork of green and blue. The furniture was dark, a rich cherry. Aleck ran his hand over the curved sofa back, admiring how its patterned brocade felt silk-soft under his fingers. A trio of bold, minimalist prints lined the far wall – the slashes of red and black complementing the chocolate-brown upholstery. "I'm impressed."

"Thank you," Grier answered. "Would you like a drink?"

"Yeah. That'd be great." Aleck waited for Grier to move into the kitchen before circling the large room. "You have impeccable taste," Aleck remarked as he skimmed the titles nestled in the bookcase.

"I can't take the credit," came a voice from over Aleck's shoulder. Only his extensive training stopped Aleck from jumping out of his skin. Grier had been busy in the kitchen five seconds ago.

"You used a designer?" Aleck asked, doing his best to cover his surprise. Grier's sly smile indicated he'd failed.

"I rented it already furnished. The style appealed to me, and I wasn't sure how long I would be here, hence my reluctance to purchase furniture of my own."

Aleck took the proffered glass of scotch. "I imagine this is very close to how you would've done it yourself."

"And why would you think that?" Grier watched Aleck as he took a small sip of his drink.

Aleck shrugged. "Just a feeling." He cocked his head to the side. "It suits you."

Grier watched Aleck for another moment, a hint of the burn Aleck had seen earlier flaring in his eyes. "Shall we sit?"

Aleck wet his lips and Grier followed the furtive movement with his eyes. "Sure," Aleck said, a little breathless. He took a seat on the long couch, cursing himself the whole time. His shortness of breath hadn't been feigned. Eight minutes to go. He could hold Grier off that long – he just wasn't sure he wanted to. Aleck wrapped both hands around his tumbler as Grier joined him.

"That's eighteen-year-old scotch. I hope you're able to appreciate it," Grier said, and Aleck bit back a snort of laughter.

"Well, that was subtle. I'm twenty-six, in answer to your question, and I always appreciate a good single malt."

Grier made a wry face. "Not as bad as I thought. I still feel like a dirty old man."

"You don't look a day over thirty-five," Aleck said. A phenomenon he was still puzzling over.

Grier raised an eyebrow. "Thirty-eight."

Another truth. As far as he could tell, Grier hadn't yet lied to him. "You age well."

Grier downed the last of his scotch. "There's no need to pay me compliments." Since that's not what you're here for, he left unsaid.

"I'll try to restrain myself."

Grier's eyes bore into him. Scrutiny normally made Aleck twitchy, even if he hid it well, but Grier's attentions were producing an altogether different reaction. Unfamiliar, but undeniable. He didn't protest when Grier shifted closer.

*~*~*

Henry whistled as he waved at the occasional passer-by, greeting those he knew and even those he didn't. He studied people – not an unusual hobby considering his job – but fifteen years in his position had made him a connoisseur. Figuring them out wasn't all that hard. Take Mr. Swann, for instance. Quiet and respectful, well-bred, and wealthy. Henry could always smell money. Mr. Swann reeked of it.

As for Mr. Swann's guest…the handsome, bedraggled young man hadn't been selling magazine subscriptions. No matter. Henry had perfected discretion the same time his special sense of smell had kicked in. And the boy had seemed the nice enough sort. He expected Mr. Swann to have as good a taste in men as he had in every other aspect of his life. Class with a capital C, that was Mr. Swann.

The giant clock on the building across the street caught his eye. Two-forty. Henry's eyes went unfocused, and he blinked. Abandoning his post, he pushed through the tall glass doors and strode across the marble floor to the security station nestled behind the elevators. Once inside, he located the fire warning system for unit 1508 and triggered the silent alarm. Closing and locking the door behind him, he returned to his accustomed place just outside the building. As soon as he stepped outside, a welcoming smile replaced his blank stare.

Henry whistled and waved.

Two minutes later, the phone on his desk, located just inside the doors, began to ring.

*~*~*

"You mentioned you were new in town, Jeremy. Was it family that brought you here?"

Two minutes left until Henry's call. Grier had drawn closer, his intentions clear. Which was why, when he sat back and asked about 'Jeremy's' family, Aleck was taken aback. He recovered, but not fast enough for Grier's shrewd eyes. "Have I touched on too personal a subject?"

You have no idea, Aleck thought. "No, it's fine. My parents died when I was very young. My grandparents raised me. But we were never close. I have no family to speak of."

"I'm sorry," Grier said. He placed his hand on Aleck's knee. "Have we talked enough?"

One minute left. "Yeah," Aleck whispered.

Grier pressed close and curled one hand around Aleck's neck. "So long," he whispered. "I'd forgotten."

Aleck had forgotten, too. His sexual experiences were few and far in the past, but he didn't remember anything like this. What harm to give in just once? Just for a moment. He turned his face toward Grier, who didn't hesitate, but leaned forward to bring their lips together.

The telephone rang. Grier stopped, no more than a hair's breadth away from Aleck's mouth. The second the loud trilling registered, Aleck drew back, shaken by his loss of control.

Grier studied the phone, and Aleck took the opportunity to escape across the couch. "Well that killed the mood."

"I never get calls," Grier said, voice pensive.

"Whoever it is has horrible timing," Aleck grumbled. "Tell them to call back." He reclined back against the cushion and spread his legs. Relieved, he saw Grier had lost interest in his seduction.

"I never get calls," Grier repeated before reaching over the back of the sofa and plucking the receiver from its cradle. "Yes?"

Aleck watched and waited, not even pretending to be uninterested in the conversation. He could make out bits and pieces, Henry's voice rising and falling as he tried to placate his tenant. "I can assure you, Henry," Grier said, "there's nothing on fire up here."

"Yet," Aleck cut in.

"Yes, fine. Fine. I'll be right down. No, I'll come down." He punched the off button with more force than necessary. "I have to go downstairs. There's a maintenance issue."

Aleck pouted. "Can I take a rain check?"

"No." Grier stood. "Stay. I'll be back shortly." Rather than hurrying out, though, he hovered over Aleck, a small frown on his lips. "Make yourself comfortable," he murmured, then slipped out the door, shutting it behind him.

Aleck waited one minute before he rose from the couch. The desk in the living room was a showpiece; it held nothing but stationery. He moved on. Grier's bedroom was at the end of the hall, the door closed but unlocked. Slipping inside, Aleck zeroed in on the laptop computer humming on the dresser. Knowing his time was limited, he swiped his finger over the mouse pad, unsurprised when a password prompt appeared. Letting his shielding slide, he rested his fingers on the keyboard, and a few moments later saw the keystrokes in his mind.

He'd managed to type four numbers before Grier's fist slammed into his side, knocking him into the dresser. The laptop crashed to the floor. Aleck rolled and rose agilely to his feet, taking in the situation as he nursed his bruised ribs. Grier was back, anger pouring off of him in great waves. He rounded on Aleck, snarling, and began stalking him across the room.

"Stupid, arrogant boy!" he seethed. "Did you think you could fool me with that absurd ruse? I was playing this game before you knew what your cock was for."

Not the best time to remind Grier just how he'd been deceived. Aleck feinted left, but before he could launch himself across the bed, a blinding pain sliced through his head. He swore. Pushing it aside, he struck out in a similar fashion.

A howl of agony was his reward. Aleck opened his mind, revealing himself as a Gifted, and struck out again. Grier was expecting it this time, though, and Aleck's attack failed. Their mental battle was a deadlock. Time for a more roundabout strategy.

Aleck reached out with his mind, squeezed, and the light fixture above Grier shattered. Grier ducked his face against the falling glass, and Aleck jumped, tackling him onto the bed. The momentum carried them to the floor where they struggled fiercely.

Grier rolled them as soon as they landed and wrapped his hands around Aleck's neck. Aleck had a split second to be impressed by Grier's strength and combat skills before his airway was cut off. Fighting back panic, he fit his own arms between Grier's and pushed. The vise-like grip around his throat loosened. With a Herculean effort, Aleck broke Grier's hold and threw him off. Coughing and wheezing, he scrambled backward, but Grier was already up and advancing again.

Aleck gathered his strength and pushed outward with his mind. Grier flew back against the wall, smacking it with a loud crack, and moaning, sank to the floor.

Aleck stumbled to his feet, keeping an eye on the dazed agent. How could he have been so wrong about Grier? The bastard would have choked him to death without a second thought. Alex had sensed it. The man was a killer.

He stumbled a few feet closer, weaving as much from the physical fight as from the mental. He opened his link with Nora, knowing it was past time to report his location.

Aleck?

Here.

Report.

Grier opened his eyes. They were dazed and unfocused. "Do yourself a favor, Crist," Aleck spat. "Stay down."

Aleck?

Before he could answer, something hard and heavy collided with the back of his head. Everything went black.

*~*~*

As the other man dropped to the floor, Grier struggled to his feet. His ears rang. He tasted copper and realized he'd bitten his tongue when he hit the wall. Spitting the blood onto the carpet, he clutched the doorframe until his dizziness passed. Maybe Graviel had a point about Monitors, and there was an excellent reason for having one's libido repressed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been almost killed for thinking with his dick.

He stumbled across the room, kicking away the glass ashtray he'd sent flying at the boy's head. There was an impressive pool of blood accumulating on the carpet beneath.

Laying on the floor, dazed, knowing 'Jeremy' was a Gifted and most likely bonded with a Monitor, Grier had wielded the opportunistic weapon with more force than necessary. Now that the immediate danger had passed, he cursed his panic. He refused to saddle his conscience with another death. Besides he had some questions for Jeremy, in particular, how the hell he'd hidden his presence from Grier.

Time was short; the Organization may already be en route. Grier hoisted Jeremy up by his armpits and flipped him over. He couldn't have the little shit bleeding everywhere while he dragged him downstairs. Hastily, he assessed the damage, noting the cut was shallow, just very bloody. He held his hand over the jagged tear in the skin, focused his power, and prompted the cut to close. It was an ugly job, temporary at best. Healing wasn't his dominant gift. But it would have to do.

Next, he gathered what he dared not leave behind: the computer and his stash of forged identity papers. The majority of his assets were safe in Swiss accounts. The money tied up in the apartment was lost, but he was leaving on his own two feet, not in a body bag. More than an even trade.

He didn't give the pool of blood soaking into the carpet a passing thought. Let Graviel deal with it; he specialized in cover-ups and deception, after all. No one in New York would know what happened to Stephen Swann. And no one would miss blue-eyes either; Jeremy's story was an utter fabrication. He was a Gifted, an agent for the Organization.

Grier packed his duffel with his computer and other necessities. Then, grimacing at the still-tacky blood, threw the kid over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, and fled the apartment. He encountered two people on the way to his car, one in the hall and one in the elevator. It was simple enough to cloud their minds so that neither saw him carrying a bloodied man, obviously hurt, maybe dead, over his shoulder. One even wished him a pleasant afternoon as she exited the elevator at the lobby.

Once at his vehicle, Grier dumped Jeremy in the trunk, then probed his mind, planting a suggestion that he remain asleep. Sooner or later, he'd wake, but by then Grier would be ready and waiting.

He swung into the front seat and drove up and out of the garage, joining the afternoon traffic snarl.

*~*~*

"Sir! Sir!"

Nora's frantic call pulled Graviel from his nap. Alarmed, he rushed to her side. "What's happened?"

"He was there, for a moment. He was hurt, I think. Then nothing." Nora's voice fell to a whisper on the last word, and Graviel's apprehension thickened.

"But you can still sense him?"

"Barely."

"Barely is better than not at all, Nora," Graviel reminded her.

There was little comfort in his statement, he knew. Grim, he clasped the young Monitor on the shoulder. Nora flinched at the sudden touch, then relaxed with a shaky sigh. Her reaction gave Graviel pause. Events had been spiraling out of control for many months now, and the number of people he trusted grew smaller every day. It was a dirty game, a dirty business, and he'd made harsh choices. Not just with Aleck. With Grier as well.

He'd ignore her jumpiness. For now. "Alert me if there's the slightest change."

Nora nodded, averting her eyes, and Graviel frowned. He left her to her job and made his way back to the bedroom. Meditation would help him focus; he'd need all his faculties when whatever was going on with Aleck and Grier came to a head.

The bed was hard and the light from the hall too bright. Altering the firmness of the mattress was beyond his control, but the lights were another matter. Graviel made a curt gesture with his hand and the door swung shut. Total darkness descended. He closed his eyes, recalling the first time he'd spoken with Aleck. Not the first time he'd seen him. Not by a long shot. But the first time he'd approached him about his gifts, his future, and the Organization.

The boy looked pitiful eating alone while a dozen other teenagers frolicked a few tables away. At sixteen, Aleck was pale and lanky. An underachiever. A troublemaker. Graviel knew him inside and out. His family ostracized him. His grandfather called him a freak. Aleck believed the entire world was against him, but nothing could be further from the truth.

"You want to sit here?" Aleck sneered at him. "Are you crazy?"

"Yes," Graviel answered. "I'm not crazy, but I would like to speak with you, if I may."

Aleck glanced around the small pizzeria before frowning at Graviel. "I guess," he mumbled.

When Graviel slid into the booth across from him, Aleck dropped his eyes. "What do you want?"

"To talk, Aleck."

Aleck's head shot up. "How do you know my name?"

Graviel smiled. "I've been watching you," he admitted. He didn't mention for how long. If all went as he hoped, that fact would come to light soon enough.

"Why?"

"Because you're special."

Aleck glared at Graviel through a messy fringe of brown hair. "I'm not special," he whispered.

Graviel leaned forward. "You are." And with that, he opened his mind and enveloped Aleck in a blanket of comfort and companionship. Aleck gasped.

"You can do it too?"

Graviel nodded. "You're not alone, Aleck," he said, "and you are very, very special."

"I don't understand."

"There are many like you. Extraordinary people with extraordinary gifts, just like yours. Would you like me to tell you about them?"

Aleck bit his bottom lip and stayed silent. When he gathered the courage to look Graviel in the eye, the older man smiled. He reached across the table and covered Aleck's hand with his own. "You have nothing to fear from me. I promise – I will never lie to you."

Aleck yanked his hand away. "We'll see."

"We will." Graviel removed a card from his pocket and slid it across the table. With the exception of his phone number, it was blank. "Trust is given freely once. And must be earned ever after."

Aleck cocked his head at the cryptic words. "What?"

"I know you've been hurt. I don't expect you to trust me. Not right away. I am prepared to earn your loyalty. And your friendship," Graviel added. His smile broadened. "I'm a patient man."

Ten years later, he had Aleck's trust and his friendship. But for how long? Graviel scrubbed his hands over his face. If Aleck ever discovered the depth of his deception, he'd lose the boy for good.

He'd wanted to save the Organization. Now he wondered if his actions would be the death of it. If they could, in fact, mean the death of them all.