"Doesn't her anxiety affect the rest of the team?"
Slade smiled. "You only think scientists are beyond emotional drama until you have to work with them. Kaia's inhibitions are nothing compared to the theatrics some of the other R & D members have pulled. Oddly enough, it's the men who have the temper tantrums; the women are usually very professional. Go figure. And of the men, our resident flaming queen is by far the most mature." He finished his iced tea and looked over at the girls, who were splashing each other in the lake and trying to catch small fish in the shallows. "Speaking of emotional dramas, how's the family?"
"Rita takes after me, unfortunately," Rose admitted with a laugh. "Headstrong to a fault. Fortunately, Lily is the manipulative one, so Rita usually ends up doing what her sister wants and not the other way around, which is good, since Lily adheres to rules better. I thank my lucky stars they weren't identical twins; two Ritas would be more than even Gar could handle. Mariand'r, of course, bosses everyone around, just like her father."
"How old is Mariand'r?"
"A half-year older than Lily, who just turned six. But she acts like she's oh-so-old-and-wise. I don't know if that's a Tamaranean trait, or just her."
Clouds began gathering overhead, accompanied by a slight but noticeable drop in temperature. Kaia immediately landed nearby, accustomed to Kenyan thunderstorms that developed rapidly and frequently turned severe. To be caught aloft in such weather, generating strong electromagnetic fields, was to invite a lightning strike. By the same token, it was unwise to remain in or near a large body of water.
"Lily, Rita, time to come in. You too, Mariand'r," Rose called. All three girls obediently came out of the water, shrieking giddily as the air chilled them. Rose and Gar held out large towels and the girls ran to them, eager to be wrapped in the warm, dry cotton. Kaia watched, her face a mask of envy, then turned on her heel and strode stiffly back toward the Jeep.
"What's wrong?" Gar asked, surprised by the sudden turn of events. "What did we do?"
"Nothing," Slade sighed. "She always wanted a family and now she can't have one. You can't really blame her for being bitter about it."
"I'm sure she could find some way around her communication barrier," Rose said. "Couldn't she? She's an empath, after all."
Her father gave her an odd look, then shrugged. "That's only part of the problem. The bigger one is that all female Hounds are sterilized -- or 'spayed', as the government calls it. They don't want to hassle with female cycles or unwanted pregnancies, so part of the initial training for females involves a hysterectomy. That's why there are fewer female than male Hounds; most of them don't survive the physical stress of their initial training." He glanced over toward the Jeep. "I have to go calm her down before she starts affecting everyone."
Joseph placed a hand on his father's arm. 'No, let me.'
He could feel the emotions radiating from her as he approached -- anguish, longing, and despair, all with a strong undercurrent of self-loathing, coupled with anger for feeling any of those emotions in the first place. Slowly, he placed his hands on her shoulders; even with her back turned she was aware of his presence, yet she still flinched. He massaged her neck and shoulders lightly, working out the tension in her muscles, and she made no effort to pull away from him. Only when he moved to face her did she abruptly turn away, holding up one hand to hide her ruined visage from his gaze.
It was a familiar feeling. How often had he wanted to smash the bathroom mirror rather than face the image it threw back at him? He had never been vain, but that didn't mean he cared to be confronted with what the government had seen fit to do to him. She hadn't seemed shy about her appearance before, but an unpredictably fickle nature was the hallmark of most empaths. Gently, he moved her hand aside, tilting her face up so that she could clearly see the similar damage that he made no attempt to conceal.
'Not fair!' she signed angrily, tears spilling down her cheeks. He wasn't sure if she was referring to her induced barrenness, her appearance, or both, but either way, he agreed. It was an accurate assessment of life as a whole, and not just for those unlucky enough to have been Hounds. Jessica would have shrugged it off as God's will and made the best of it, but he had never had her strong faith, and never would, now.
Instead, he held Kaia in a loose embrace, letting her feel the mixed joy and pain evoked by the memories of his lost family. What she couldn't have for herself, at least she could experience vicariously.
The rumble of not-so-distant thunder triggered a swift retreat to the safety of the cabin, after hurriedly gathering up children, toys, and picnic items. Slade and Kaia watched the children while the others unpacked; not expecting to stay for any length of time, neither of them had brought along any personal items. Fortunately, the cabin was stocked with all the basic necessities, and the maid, who was indeed a teleporter, volunteered to flit off to Calgary on a quick shopping spree.
The day passed quickly, Slade telling tales of life in Kenya and Gar relating stories of his daughters' antics. Aware of Kaia's social isolation in this situation, Mariand'r offered her coloring books, which were eagerly accepted. Rose smiled at the sight of a grown woman coloring pictures with crayons, wondering if the head trauma had left Kaia colorblind as well as aphasic. She may have been a virtual genius with numbers, but she was no artist.
Dinner, when it came, was a very structured affair, requiring their timely presence at the dinner table. Joseph and Kaia were clearly uncomfortable with the arrangement, sitting rigidly in their seats, but neither of them tried to leave. Slade seemed oblivious to it, which may have been his way of forcing them to get reacquainted with everyday human activities. More power to him if it worked; Rose's attempt to do the same with Joseph had been a dismal failure.
Discipline, apparently, was the key to successfully deprogramming Hounds. It wasn't surprising, really, since they were used to it -- or more accurately, terrified by it. Rose hadn't the heart to use the technique with Joseph after everything he'd been through, even if it was supposedly for his own good, but Slade was of the opinion that one could never have too much discipline.
It kept Joseph and Kaia at the table until dinner ended, at which point both of them bolted as soon as it was clear they were permitted to leave. Slade sighed to himself the moment they were out of the room, looking for all the world like any other tired old man.
The children weren't about to be weighed down by the adults' exhaustion. "Play horsie with us, grampa!" they demanded, tugging at his sleeves until he consented. Rose had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the incongruous image of Deathstroke the Terminator romping in circles around the living room on all fours, giving rides to his granddaughters. Gar had no such self-restraint, and laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. Even Joseph smiled at the sight of it, though it was a smile tinged with bittersweet memories.
Kaia and Mariand'r, absorbed once again in coloring books, ignored the equine escapades.
Eventually, the girls were forced to relinquish their pony in favor of pajamas, a decision that met with the usual complaints. Their parents were having none of it, vacation or no, and the children were hustled off to bed by their father. Taking advantage of the momentary lull in activity, Slade pulled Rose aside.
"Is there a bedroom on the other side of the cabin?" Slade asked her.
Rose shrugged. "I don't know; I guess there isn't any reason why they would have to be restricted to only one wing. I can ask the maid. Why?"
He motioned toward Kaia, who was admiring the new pajamas the maid had bought for her in Calgary. "She projects emotions as well as receiving them, and at night, her shields drop. Unless you want to dream about being a Hound, I'd suggest keeping her as far away from everyone else as possible."
"She won't mind, being isolated like that?"
Slade shrugged. "I don't know if she minds or not, but she's used to it, and she understands why it has to be that way. It's probably easier for her as well, since empathy is usually a double-edged sword; this way, she won't have other people's dreams impinging on her, either."
As it so happened, there were no bedrooms elsewhere in the cabin, but there was a den large enough to accommodate one of the beds, and with the help of the maid, the necessary bedroom furniture was teleported to that room for Kaia's use.
The following day was leisurely, filled with outdoor activities like hiking, swimming, and even some water-skiing on the lake. Gar, Mariand'r, and Kaia played a game of flying tag while the others sunned themselves on the deck of the boat, unwinding from the stresses of their everyday lives. Only when the warmth began to creep from the air did they reluctantly head back indoors.
After a day of nothing but play, the children were more willing to head to their bedrooms when the time came for them to retire. The adults stayed up, sipping wine or brandy and trading reminiscences. All except Kaia, of course, who was scribbling intently on a piece of paper.
Without warning, Kaia let out a strangled squeak, dropped her pencil, and dove into Joseph's arms. It had been apparent to everyone that the ex-Hound's dislike of male contact didn't seem to apply to Joseph, though why he should be an exception remained a mystery.
"Logan's here," Slade announced, as if that explained everything.
Gar went to open the door. Their visitor acknowledged his presence with a nod before growling, "Cripes, Wilson, where's your brain? You know I scare the gal; you two should'a been gone yesterday."
Slade shrugged nonchalantly. "Couldn't pass up the offer to be with my grandkids."
"What's the point in a third-party rendezvous when the first party's still here?" Logan muttered, pulling out a cigar. "Don't worry," he smiled at Rose's frown, "I ain't stayin' long. Just business."
"Why's Kaia so afraid of you?" Gar asked, handing the jammer part to Logan.
Neither one so much as glanced in her direction, knowing that would only upset her more. "Can't rightly say, kid; I spook empaths. Happened to that other one you worked with, too."
"Raven." Gar remembered his teammate's hysterical response to Darkseid's presence, but he hadn't recalled any trepidation on her part in regard to Wolverine or any of his fellow X-Men. Then again, that was long before Raven got used to showing her emotions; if Logan said she'd been frightened, then she had been.
"Yup, that's the one," Logan said, lighting his cigar. "What's she up to these days?"
"Er... well, she died a while ago, but then kinda came back, only evil," Gar explained. "Then she died again, and came back again, but without her body. But at least she was herself after that. I haven't seen her in years, though."
"Sounds just like Jeannie," Logan muttered. "There's one on every team." Tipping his hat to Rose, he said, "See you folks later, then. Have a nice vacation," and was gone before anyone could respond.
Kaia grabbed her paper and pencil and flew off to her makeshift bedroom, too stressed to remain in the company of others. Her departure was the excuse for everyone else to call it a day as well, and they headed off to their separate rooms.
Kaia was fine the next morning, bouncing up to the breakfast table wearing a bright yellow sundress that left very little to the imagination. True, it wasn't something she had bought for herself, but the fact that she would wear it was a shock to everyone but Slade, who was used to people removing most of their clothing as a means of coping with the intense heat of a Kenyan day. She must not have been feeling self-conscious, because the dress bared not only her ID brand but numerous scars on her arms, shoulders, and legs.
She was in an infectiously chipper mood, and soon everyone at the table was in high spirits. It took no effort whatsoever to convince Joseph that he should accompany her on an exploratory outing, and they headed out immediately after breakfast. Slade watched them go, keeping to himself the thought that Kaia really shouldn't be out flying in such a short dress.
They had only flown a couple of miles when Kaia touched down in a small rocky meadow. The rocks strewn everywhere one looked had been deposited by glaciers during the Ice Age, and ranged in size from pebbles to boulders. It made strolling through the waist-high grass more difficult, but it was also much more interesting, as brightly-colored skinks and snakes darted out from between the rocks. With child-like glee, Kaia snatched a sunning garter snake off a rock, petting its head as she admired the bright green and yellow stripes that ran down its back. She replaced it gingerly on its rock and it quickly vanished into the grass, deeply offended at the interruption of its routine.
Thirty-five minutes was all it took to explore the meadow, much to Kaia's disappointment. They were pondering their next destination when a gunshot echoed through the surrounding forest, startling them both. It had sounded very close, though that could be deceiving; large, loud guns made sounds that carried well for miles.
Before they could decide whether or not it would be prudent for them to leave, a flash of color emerging from the trees caught their attention. A group of at least a dozen men was heading their way, dressed too conspicuously to pass for hunters. Odd, since all of them were armed, and Canada was not yet a country at war.
Most of the men hung back at the edge of the woods, watching as four of their number proceeded into the meadow directly toward Joseph and Kaia. Their leader was a big man, both in height and girth, who carried a rifle like it was a natural extension of his arm.
Kaia slid behind Joseph, clutching the back of his shirt. He could do nothing to assuage her fear, as he felt no better about their predicament than did she. It didn't help when the big man said, in a voice loud enough for Joseph to hear him clearly, "Well I'll be go to hell, boys -- look what we found!"
Joseph dropped his gaze as the men approached, a tension that was only partly radiated from Kaia twisting his stomach. This was not an innocent encounter, that much he could tell without asking. Perhaps, if they were lucky, they would only be harassed for a while and released.
Understandably, Joseph no longer believed much in luck.
"Yer mighty quiet for Yanks," the big man laughed, stopping a few feet away. "Most of the ones I've met would talk the hind legs off a donkey. That lot thinks they own the world -- like they don't put their pants on one leg at a time!"
"Bloody gorillas, them Yanks," another one muttered, "'specially them muties. Useful as a back pocket on a shirt! Cause of all the trouble south of the border, eh? Wouldn't want 'em comin' up here, bringing those troubles with 'em, would we?"
"Truth," the first man agreed, staring hard at Joseph. "You Yanks wouldn't happen to be muties, wouldja?" He pushed the muzzle of his gun under Joseph's chin, forcing his head up. "Those're some right strange scars you got on your face, fella."
"Get a look at this one," the third on chuckled, pulling a trembling Kaia away from Joseph. "She's two miles of dirt road after a rainstorm!" Kaia glared at him, understanding his condescending tone if not his words.
The first man turned away from Joseph and moved toward Kaia. "Not quite as bad from the neck down, eh?"
Joseph's reaction was instantaneous. He whirled around, his foot connecting with the man's ear and sending him sprawling into the grass. He targeted the man who had insulted Kaia next, knocking the gun from his hand with another kick and following through with a punch to the jaw.
The man hadn't hit the ground before gunshots rang out.
Kaia shrieked. She had felt bullets tear through flesh before, but only on assignment. Hounds were shot by Resistance members, who were in turn shot by government troops. Joseph had fallen, a man with a gun advancing menacingly. Men with guns, shooting Hounds, meant that she was on assignment -- and being on assignment meant killing the enemy.
Bolts of bioelectrical energy shot from her hands, electrocuting the two men still standing. One of the men Joseph had taken down stirred, reaching for his gun, and she closed a mental fist around his heart, silencing all the neural regulatory signals that would have maintained a steady beat. He dropped back to the ground and did not move again. The other man, the big one, seemed to be unconscious, but she didn't want him coming to and attacking her unexpectedly, so she sent a cell-killing electrical pulse through his brainstem.
Having secured the immediate vicinity, she sank down, hiding herself in the tall grass. The others were approaching cautiously; she could feel their fear as well as their anger. There were too many of them for her to attack all at once, especially at long range. Letting them get closer, though, meant giving them a better opportunity to kill her -- and Joseph.
She hesitated. Her primary mission was to kill the enemy. To do so, she should leave her present position and creep through the grass so that she could attack from an unexpected location. But doing that would leave Joseph unprotected. He was unconscious, having hit his head on a rock when he fell, and therefore defenseless.
The enemy was converging on them, circling around to cut off any escape. They didn't know the range of her power, nor did they know that she could fly, but she couldn't use either of those traits to her advantage without abandoning Joseph. She knew she wasn't supposed to put the life of another Hound before the success of her mission -- she would be punished for it, for sure -- but this wasn't just any other Hound. This was Joseph. She had to protect him; it was only fair.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the men. One of them was braver than the others, and had struck out on his own, a good twenty feet ahead of the rest of the group. To take him out would give the impression that he was closing in on her position, so she chose a different target, one in the middle of the group, and fried his brain with a grand mal seizure.
Predictably, the men panicked, backing away from their dying friend and firing shots randomly into the grass around them. Another man clutched his chest and fell, gasping, but instead of causing the others to run, it strengthened their resolve to rid themselves of the source of the threat. The group solidified and began to run toward the place where Kaia was hiding.
The brave man got there first, his gun a small but still deadly .22 caliber. Kaia hissed at him, shielding Joseph with her own body. It was an empty bluff, really; she could generate electromagnetic shields if she had to, but they were too weak to deflect bullets, and a .22 produced no substantial kick to throw off the aim.
What succeeded in throwing off his aim was Slade's flying tackle. Gar flew on toward the rest of the men, changing into a gorilla and flinging his opponents in all directions. Grabbing one of the fallen guns, Slade backed him up with firepower, taking out the rest of the men.
He turned, seeing Joseph lying motionless, and ran forward, but a low growl from Kaia stopped him in his tracks. She was still in Hound mode, and he wasn't dressed in the familiar kennel keeper's uniform that was her sole voice of authority. He repeated the series of shrill whistles he had previously used to get her attention, hoping that it might jar her into the present.
It did. She blinked, startled, and slowly got to her feet, only to drop to her knees again when she remembered Joseph. Slade knelt next to her and looked down at his son. Joseph's face was far too pale, and the bullet wounds couldn't account for that -- one was merely a graze, the other a relatively minor injury to the thigh. Slade pressed his fingertips against the cold skin of his son's neck, feeling the feeble pulse which indicated that life had not yet drained from the still form. His chest barely moved with the shallowness of his breath, but he didn't show any signs of cyanosis -- yet.
Which only meant that his body lived. If the head injury was too severe, he could be brain-dead; Slade had no way to check for that. At least there was no external sign of bleeding, though the paleness and low blood pressure may have indicated hemorrhaging. He forced his mind to concentrate on the present, away from the possibility that Joseph would not recover.
"Garfield," he called, not looking up to see if his son-in-law had even heard him. In a flash Gar was there, crouched beside Slade. "Take Joe back to the cabin, and make sure you keep his head elevated. I'll clean things up here."
Gar nodded, knowing better than to ask questions. "Clean things up" most likely meant getting rid of any survivors who might otherwise decide to return at a later date. As with everyone else who was living through the Sentinel War, he had learned to keep his moral objections to himself.
Kaia paused momentarily before following Gar into the air. Slade ignored their departure, just as Gar ignored the sound of gunshots that echoed in his wake.
"How is he?" Slade asked Rose when he arrived back at the cabin three hours later.
"I think he'll be OK," she smiled, clearly relieved that her brother was still alive. "He woke up a couple hours ago. He's got a contusion, but if I interpreted Kaia correctly, it's not a severe one, so he should be fine after a few days of bed rest. Lord knows he's survived worse."
Slade looked skeptical. "Kaia's an engineer, not a doctor."
Rose shrugged. "She's an empath whose specialty is nerves. If she says he'll be OK, she ought to know." She handed him some papers. "See if you agree. Her artwork isn't professional, but you can follow it."
Slade glanced over the papers. Using crude stick figures, Kaia had drawn the confrontation, showing Joseph being shot and striking the back of his head on a rock as he fell. She then drew a cut-away view of a head, with a lumpy structure that could only be the brain colored in bruised, unhealthy purples in the front and back. Stars and unhappy faces decorated the paper around the injured areas.
The next page began with a series of clock faces that he took to mean the passage of time -- certainly not a specific interval, since the position of the hands didn't follow chronologically. The next picture was another cut-away view, but this time the brain was all healthy pinkish grey, with no stars. The final image had a stick figure that had to be Joseph, judging by the curly blonde hair, who was now smiling, joined by a stick figure with a patch over one eye. Slade hadn't seen himself represented as a stick figure since Grant and Joseph were children, and it was mildly amusing to be drawn in such a fashion after so many years.
He made his way to Joseph's room, not surprised to find Kaia sitting by his bed, one hand resting on his chest, the other on his forehead. She sat upright, but her eyes were closed, as if in a trance.
"What's she doing?" Gar whispered, peeking into the room over Slade's shoulder.
"Scanning," he explained. "Sometimes nerve damage doesn't show up right away, so she's monitoring his nervous system for any changes. Expect her to stay there for about six hours, and don't interrupt her; she's liable to go into defensive mode and attack you before she realizes who you are." He glanced back at Gar. "Goodnight," he said, before heading off to his own room.
Gar watched him leave. He and Slade had formed an odd sort of father-son bond ever since the incident with Terra so long ago, but he would never understand Slade's willingness to go about life as usual when a family member was injured. The only ones who could keep Slade by their bedsides were Wintergreen and Adeline, neither of whom had been comfortable with such intense vigilance. With their deaths, it frequently appeared like Slade had no ties to bind him to others; his displays of affection were always sporadic, and according to Rose, too frequently suspiciously shallow. Perhaps that would change with his new ties to Rose and his grandchildren, and with Joseph's presence in Kenya, if he chose to go.
The incident put something of a damper on the rest of the week. They continued to stay at the cabin, but now Slade went on daily patrols of the surrounding acres. Rose and Gar kept a closer watch on the children, while Kaia stayed with Joseph as he recuperated.
Rose stood in her bedroom, staring at herself in the mirror. It was their last day in the cabin; in an hour, Emil would arrive to take them home. She fingered the delicate gold locket that hung on a chain around her neck. It wasn't like she'd never see him again, but the selfish part of her was reluctant to let her brother go. Staying in her room wouldn't change anything, though; it would only rob her of her last private conversation with Joseph. Even though she knew the answer, she had to ask; it was important that the final decision was clearly his.
She knocked softly on his door before peeking inside the room. He was sitting on the bed for once, reading over a handwritten musical score. The lack of a title -- or any other wording -- was an indication that the music had been written by Kaia; he had made some comments in the margin and changed some of the notes, using a different color of ink.
He was wearing only a pair of shorts, but Rose no longer found that odd. Although she didn't think it was warm enough to be without a shirt, the kennels were housed in the subterranean labyrinth of the Pentagon basement levels. Since Hounds weren't given clothes to wear unless they were on assignment, they quickly grew used to living in colder temperatures.
"That looks new," Rose smiled, indicating the sheets of music.
He nodded. 'Kaia wrote it after dinner a few days ago, and wanted me to look over it. It's not very complex, but it's a nice melody.'
She sat on the bed next to him. "She really seems to like you."
Unexpectedly, he looked away, his hand absently rubbing the burn scar on his right arm. After a minute, he turned back to Rose. 'I protected her once. From a keeper.'
Rose's eyes widened in astonishment. To attack a keeper was usually a death sentence for a Hound, and not an easy death, either. For a Hound to risk such punishment was rare enough, but to risk it for another Hound was unheard of. No wonder Kaia liked him.
Her gaze fell on the scar, noticing for the first time the matching one that ran down his leg. Like most Hound injuries, it had been deliberately inflicted; now she knew why. Hounds weren't treated kindly even when they were well-behaved, so punishment for poor behavior tended to be vicious. She shuddered to think of the other things that had been done to him, that had left only psychological scars in their wake.
"That was kind of you to defend her," she praised him.
He stared at the floor between them for a long moment before responding. 'I -- it was Jessica all over again.'
She rested her hand on his knee sympathetically. Joseph was too empathic to willingly stand by while someone else was abused, and when it came to sexual abuse, he was fiercely protective. Jessica had taken a long time to recover from what Number One had done to her, and Joseph never forgot her pain. Anything which reminded him of that was likely to bring out his most aggressive response.
Rose slipped the locket she was wearing over her head and held it out to him. Her brother looked at it, then at her, taking it only when she assured him that it was OK. He opened it and froze, staring down at the tiny but clearly recognizable photos of his late wife and mother.
"Jess gave it to me a week before the government raid," she told him quietly. "We all knew it was coming, you know; we just thought we'd have more time to escape. She acted like it was for me, but I always understood what she couldn't bring herself to admit: that I was to give it to you in the event that she didn't survive the war and you did." She smiled briefly at the memory of her sister-in-law. "I added the picture of your mom afterward. Jess always got along so well with Addie, it was so silly, but I was actually jealous. Gar's such a sweetheart; he knew exactly what to say to make me feel better." End, Part Four